Tuesday, April 30, 2013

what the L? (Part 2)

After breaking it off with L the first time, I naively believed we could go on as if nothing happened. I fought through the sinking feeling, and the emptiness I felt thinking of us no longer being on those terms, and thought I’d be okay. It never occurred to me that L would be feeling the same way; she’d never given me any indication that the sexual part of our relationship was anything more than a fun diversion.

That changed that weekend while L was at work. Her job had her working every other weekend, 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. and she asked me to keep her company via Skype chat. Saturday went okay, but Sunday I could tell she was upset. I figured her husband had pissed her off somehow, or his son (from a previous marriage) had done something, but when I asked she’d brush me off. She would go from talking sweet to me one minute then being a true bitch the next, and I was still clueless.

When she started making mildly flirty and suggestive comments, I replied in kind, but in smart-ass ways. I thought she was doing it to remind me of what I no longer could get, but in a good-natured way, so I responded accordingly. At one point I said something a little too risqué, and realizing that one of her coworkers might see it, I followed up with “Not to be weird or anything, hehe.” She immediately came back with “Well, you are being weird! WTF is wrong with you lately?”

“Oh, I’m sorry; I wasn’t trying to be weird. I was just playing around. I’m fine, really!” I wanted to assure her that everything was okay with me so she wouldn’t panic and think I was losing it.

“Well, I’m not!” she typed. Before I could gather my wits enough to find out what she meant, she typed “I only have 10 minutes before I go home and I have stuff to finish up here. I’ll talk to you later tonight.”

I was a bit thrown by this turn of events, and I anxiously waited for her to come back online. I have to admit, I took a little pleasure in the thought that maybe L wasn’t as unaffected by our relationship as she’d led me to believe.

But L doesn’t always (or even usually) play fair; when she came online, she refused to acknowledge that last exchange, simply saying she’d had a “bad day at work” (which I knew was bullshit because I’d been with her for most of it). She did say she was coming into town either Monday or Tuesday to have lunch with a friend, and asked if I wanted to come with. I readily said yes; no matter what, I still wanted to spend time with her any chance I got.

Monday morning she told me that her friend couldn’t make it that day, but maybe Tuesday, then later in the day she told me her friend wouldn’t be able to make it at all, but that we could still go. The rest of Monday passed uneventfully, except that I wondered what would happen if it was just the two of us at lunch together.

Tuesday morning we were on Skype, and she said she thought she’d get her father-in-law to go with us. I was mildly disappointed, but I like the FIL and he’s the kind that always insists on paying. I asked L again what all that on Sunday was about, and she evaded the question again.

We’d started a video chat because she said she preferred talking to typing, and she was already dressed for the day. I was still in my night shorts and t-shirt (I sleep nude, but throw those on in the morning to maintain at least some dignity) and feeling horny as hell.

“I want to see you naked,” I said, grinning.

“No!” she replied, but I saw the smile on her face. “We’re not like that anymore, per your request! Remember?”

“You were kind of mad about that weren’t you?” I asked.

“Well, yea, it pissed me off!” she laughed ruefully. “It was different when I was the one who wanted to end it.”

I was already rubbing my dick; she couldn’t see it, but noticed my arm moving. “What are you doing?” she asked, pretending to be shocked but laughing at the same time.

“You know what I’m doing. And I know you want to do it too!”

“No, we’re not doing that!” I was just starting to feel disappointed, when she added “But I’ll watch you!” She was grinning and I swear my dick grew two sizes bigger.

“You will, huh?” I asked, standing and slowly pulling my shorts down for her. When my dick sprang free her eyes widened.

“God damned, I love your cock!” she said. “I want to watch you play with yourself!”

She didn’t have to tell me twice; I stood there, stroking my dick, letting her see the pre-cum on the tip. “You have to show me something to help, though!” I said. Before I had finished the sentence, L had pulled her shirt and bra up, exposing her exquisite tits. For a 40-year-old, her boobs were holding up well!

From that point on it was as if she hadn’t offered any resistance at all. I asked to see her ass, and she immediately stood, dropped her pants and panties, and bent over spreading her cheeks for me. When she turned back around, she kicked her clothes off, sat in her chair and spread her legs so I could watch her finger her pussy and clit.

I stood closer to my laptop, angling my cock towards the camera so she could watch me cum. I tried catching it all in a towel, but I missed some because of the how hard I was ejaculating. She came seconds later, pulling her own camera closer so I could watch her pussy and asshole clenching and unclenching with her spasms.

We cleaned up, talked a little more, then said our goodbyes until later when we’d meet for lunch. I just knew that this would be the beginning of everything being better between us.

Did I mention that I’m naïve?

Monday, April 29, 2013

Weekend Update

Good morning! How was your weekend? It was relatively quiet here, with no big parties or revelations or drama. Well, maybe a little Friday night.

The wife went to a baseball games Friday (of course) and L wound up coming over. The niece was here too, but left shortly after. L and I sat outside, talking, while I finished a cigar. She's definitely ready to leave the ex (again) after her daughter graduates, and says she really doesn't have any choice but to go back to the boyfriend. She thinks this time it'll work out because... blah blah blah. It's all the same rationalizations of why it didn't work the past 20 times or so, but this time will be different. I don't even bother arguing about it with her anymore because it doesn't get anywhere. By next week, she'll be telling me how she knows he's crazy and she can't be with him, etc. I just go along for the ride, anymore.

I did get the impression that she wanted me to make a move Friday night when we came back inside the house. She was being a little more flirty than usual and laughingly reminiscing about some of our past... exploits, while standing close enough to brush against me. I was tempted, but I played dumb like I didn't get the hint. If she'd directly told me, or made the first overt move, I wouldn't have resisted or even wanted to.

But I suspect she was just looking for a self-esteem boost, at my expense. She just wants to know I still desire her (which I obviously do), but would have shot me down cold at the first move. Or, worse yet, she would have let me take her in my arms, and maybe even start kissing her (and dammit, I ache to do that again) before putting a stop to it. She'd get her ego boost, and she always did say she likes the way I kiss, but would leave me high and dry and frustrated, wondering if this meant we might be back "on" again. We've done this dance before, and I'm just glad I was able to resist it this time.

The moment passed, neither of us acknowledging what just hadn't happened, and we continued talking for another 10 or 15 minutes. Then we said our good-byes, hugged (chastely), and she went on her way. L doesn't like to be turned down, though, so if she knows I deliberately ignored her signals she'll make me pay in some way.


Since starting this blog, I've noticed a marked improvement in my moods. Not to say I haven't still been moody here and there, but I haven't had the truly dark feelings from even three or four months ago. And though I still get aggravated with the wife, even that is easier to shake off these days and I'm better able to appreciate her for the person she really is, and not just the person my mind makes her when I'm depressed.

Writing about it, and knowing people who sympathize and empathize read it, certainly helps, and I thank all of you for the role you play. Those of you who regularly comment, either with encouragement or perspectives I haven't considered, or both, are especially helpful.

And I don't think it's a coincidence that my activities on dizcreet.com coincide with this improvement. A number of my contacts there have indicated they have read my blog, and a I believe at least a few have become regulars. Their encouraging words concerning my writing gives me warm, fuzzy feelings as well, though it's the physical aspect that helps me most there.

As I've written before, I've never had a great deal of self-esteem especially as regards my appearance. I've fought (and mostly lost) against being fat since I was a kid, and I've never considered myself good looking, face wise, regardless of my weight. Most of the pictures I've posted on that site are of my dick, which gets plenty of compliments (every dick picture does, though) but I did post the same body pic there that I did here and one picture (now removed) that showed my face but with sunglasses on. As far as I know, nobody gagged over them, and I haven't heard anyone say they lost their boners because of them, so that's a positive.

I think what helps most is just the contact with other men who are going through the same thing I am. JFB from Break Out has been a big help as well, having already gone through much of what I am now, but it amazes me just how many of us are out there. I might not have realized this without dizcreet.com. And it gives me an outlet to "openly" (in a semi-anonymous fashion) be the person I am.

One of my friends and I have definitely made a connection, and there's talk of possibly meeting. The hurdles aren't insurmountable, it will just require an effort of will on both of our parts. Ultimately if we don't meet, or if we do but one or both of us back out, then we'll at least be friends. But I find myself hoping we can work it out, and relatively soon. He says he thinks I'm a sex addict (but in a good way), and I think he's probably right.

One good part about pointing the Dizcreet folk here is it's easier than answering the same questions the same way, over and over. They can read all about me and get a good picture of who I am and what I'm looking for. One disadvantage to having made my blog known, though, is the knowledge that people I'm talking about will read it. I have to fight the urge to either tone down or not write at all about something to avoid offending or embarrassing anyone. If I start doing that, then the whole point of having this blog is lost. I'll just have to hope that the people who matter to me from there will be understanding.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Friday Weigh In

Ugh! Not the best results this morning, and I really thought I'd done enough this week to lose weight. I only had one "bad" day, Tuesday, and that just was lunch. And Tuesday night I ran all over the place as our softball team lost badly in its first game.

But I didn't do as well at tracking my calories, and I guess they snuck up on me. Last night I went to a baseball game with the wife, the niece, and my sister, and it was $1 beer night, so I drank more than I should have.

Anyway, this week's weight is:


There doesn't seem much point in posting a picture this month, as I'm only 2 lbs down from where I started (so disappointed in the month!). Trust me, I look exactly the same. I'm going to get back on my own ass this next month of May (or off my ass, I suppose) and put a better effort into it.

I posted to Flash Fiction Friday stories on this week's theme "appointment." The word limit, 264, made it difficult for me to write the stories the way I wanted to write, but forced me to be more succinct. I think that's a good exercise for me, because I tend to get wordy (as if you couldn't tell.)

And one of the problems I have when writing fiction is I get bogged down in details, or lose interest when I realize how long it's going to take to finish one chapter, much less a longer story. A tight limit like these FFF stories have makes that part of it easier. I tell the story in as few words as possible, then start cutting out the unnecessary parts to make the limit.

Have a good weekend, y'all. I'm working on another post that I might get up tomorrow or Sunday, if I can finish it, so check back if you get time.

FFF - Appointment - 4/26

I don't think I did a great job with either of these two stories. Word limits are a problem for me; I never use 10 words when 25 would do. In both of these stories I had to cut out details that I think left gaping plot holes. 

On the other hand, maybe it's better to have the holes for the reader to fill in. I tend to want to lead my readers from A to B to C, when maybe it's better to have them at the start line, point them to the finish, and let them make their own way there. Anyway, here are two of my takes on this week's Flash Fiction Friday.

Key Word - "Appointment"
Word Limit - 264
Extra Credit - Leave her boots on
Bonus Words - 25 each for aliens, park rangers, crock pots, or a dinosaur

Laura shivered in the cooling air as the sun set. The bet with her friends to spend three hours alone in the desert, nude except for her boots, seemed silly now, but she only had another hour to go. Money is money, and the $500 would pay the rent and put a roast in the crock pot!

The stranger startled her when he appeared from behind the hillock; Laura realized there was nowhere to run. The man gaped at her but quickly recovered and smiled.

“My friends bet me ..” she trailed off, blushing.

“I see,” he responded, smiling. “Will you lose the bet if I offer you something to cover yourself?”

She shook her head and gratefully accepted the poncho he produced from his pack. “I’m Laura.”

“I’m Brax,” he replied. He spread a blanket from his pack on the ground. “Would you like to join me?”

If Brax was going to hurt me, she reasoned, he already would have. “What brings you out here?” she asked, sitting.

“I’m a visitor from…another planet. I had an appointment to meet someone, but he didn’t show.”

Laura smirked. “That’s the lamest pickup line I’ve heard in years!”

“I assure you, I am quite sincere,” Brax responded. “He was to give me a dinosaur bone for our museum of Earth.” His smile never wavered.

“Whatever,” Laura muttered. “I’m bored!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I’ve got an hour to kill; Do you fuck on your planet?”

Thirty minutes later, Brax dressed and packed the poncho and blanket. A well satisfied Laura wiped at his cum running down her legs and tested it with her tongue. “You don’t taste like an alien,” she smirked. Brax smiled and waved, and disappeared behind the hillock. She hadn't bothered taking her boots off.

She hurriedly dressed when her friends arrived a few minutes later, and stared wistfully out the window at the light rising from the desert floor. The sperm swarming in her vulva released a chemical causing her eggs to all ripen and eject at once. It would be a healthy brood.


Susan Albright struggled to contain her tears as she watched the white panel van recede in the distance. “Border agents don’t cry!” she told herself, angrily. But she was ashamed and naked, except her boots, and the tears just couldn’t be held back. “Come back, you bastard!” she screamed, knowing it was futile.

In the van was one Alejandro “Speedy” Gonzalez, a notorious smuggler of illegal aliens. His admirers claimed he’d never be caught because he was too fast for the Feds to see. The Feds claimed they only needed know where he was crossing the border.

It took Susan two months to track him down, following leads until she found him in a cantina in Tijuana. Her boss told her to arrest him, but she wanted to know where he was getting the Latinos in. He had an appointment to deliver a load that night, and she decided to seduce him so that he’d let her ride along.

“Smugglers are hot,” she’d told him. “I want to fuck you right after you drop them off tonight!” He’d agreed readily enough. A man with a hard cock will do anything to use it.

She should have known something was wrong when they wound up in the middle of the desert, alone.

“We fuck here, now, or no ride along!” he told her. Susan dreamed of the accolades she’d receive as she sucked and fucked him. Once done, he kicked her out of the van and drove off laughing. It was a small wonder that he let her keep her boots.

With the taste of his cum still in her mouth, she cursed herself for a fool. “This is the fourth god-damned time this has happened!” she screamed.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Life, Death, and Nipples

I debated with myself (those are the only debates I can win, and my record stands at around 33%) whether or not to bring up the bad from Saturday in this week's Weekend Update, but ultimately decided not to. I didn't want the good things that happened this weekend to be diluted by the bad, and I didn't want to minimize the bad by then talking about how incredible the JO session with my Dizcreet buddy was.

The wife comes from a large family; she's one of 9 siblings (5 girls, 4 boys), and she's the third youngest child, and second youngest girl. They were close growing up, though the two oldest, a boy and a girl, were more distant to the rest. I guess that makes sense, because they were the ones who were stuck with being in charge when their single mom was out cleaning houses to make enough money to feed 9 hungry mouths. I'm sure there was some resentment on their parts, having to grow up too soon, just as there was resentment on the younger siblings part for the inevitable abuses of power the two oldest wielded. (The father was abusive, and when her mom divorced him soon after the youngest was born, he was deported  from Germany back to Yugoslavia. The wife barely remembers him, but she hates him.)

Saturday afternoon she got another one of *those* calls; the brother she's closest to in age (and probably closest to growing up) was dead. I say "another" because this is the fourth such call about a sibling having died that's she's gotten in the past 20 years that she's lived in America.

The oldest sister was first, back in 1996, from suicide. She was being treated for depression, but it finally got the best of her. From what I understand, she was a troubled person from early childhood. While just a teen, she became pregnant by the priest of the church her family attended. (If you're thinking that sounds like Joan Jett's character from "Light of Day", congratulations: you and I officially think alike!)

The youngest sister died in 2005 or 2006. Her death was ruled accidental, when she took a prescription med that interacted badly with another prescription med. I really liked her; as the youngest, she was the one most full of life and pep when I lived among them. She used to wear a baggy sleep shirt with big arm holes, and I always furtively tried to get a glimpse of her boobs when I could get away with it. I saw plenty of flesh, but never the nipple. (And to be clear, she was over 18 by the time I met her.)

The oldest brother died last year after a lengthy battle with leukemia. I only met him once, and don't know a lot about him, but I admire the fight he had in him. He and his wife had a "surprise" baby shortly after he was diagnosed, and he fought to live as long as he could to see his boy grow up. He made it into his son's 9th year. Though it was expected, his death was no easier for the wife. The one thing she could at least take from it was that he was no longer in the excruciating pain. I'm glad that she went to Germany in 2008 for Christmas, and got to spend some more time with him.

I never saw his nipple either, by the way.

Saturday it was the fourth youngest, one year older than the wife. He'd broken up with his girlfriend a couple times, and the wife started becoming concerned about some of his Facebook posts. She'd talked with him last week, and implored him to take care of himself and to talk with someone, but to not do anything stupid. She told another sister and brother to keep an eye on him, that she was worried.

In truth, all of them were worried about him, but when someone gets it in their head to hurt themselves, there's only so much that can be done. You do what you can, but short of having someone committed, you really can't watch them 24/7, especially when you have your own problems to contend with.

Early Saturday he went by the girlfriends apartment (she'd kicked him out a few weeks ago) and begged her to marry him. She said no, so he left. The girl called the police later that day saying she couldn't get in touch with him and was worried about him. They found him in his car on the side of an autobahn. He had a pain pill prescription from a recent surgery, and he'd taken them all at once.

The wife blames the girlfriend, and herself, and her siblings, and they probably blame themselves as well. It's natural to think of what more one could have done to prevent something like this. I even wonder if I should have reached out to him, though we haven't been close since I lived in Germany.

But the truth is, there's really only one person to blame. I don't mean that to speak ill of the dead, but he's the one who made the decision, and the only one who could have made the decision to live.

The wife cried quite a bit Saturday, and decided it was a good time to get drunk. I agreed whole-heartedly, though I kept my own drinking under enough control to take care of her. She cried, she drank, she threw up, and cried some more. Sunday morning she was hung-over, but felt better as the day wore on. She cried, or came close to it, a few more times, but mostly she's started the process of getting it behind her. It'll take time, but she has, unfortunately, had some experience with this.

As bad as I feel for the wife, I feel worse for her mother who has now outlived four of her children. I don't have children, but I've always heard that's the worst thing for a parent, especially a mother.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Weekend Update

Except for drama in the wife's family Saturday, it was mostly a good weekend. Parts of it were fantastic, even. I'll write about the drama later (perhaps) but for now I want to focus on the good things.

First, I went into the weekend feeling good about my diet after the weekly weigh-in. It gave me the push I needed to stay focused on it and not let myself go (eating wise) like I usually do over the weekend. And I was more active than usual this weekend, with a long softball practice Sunday evening (though I'm incredibly sore this morning!)

Friday night, the wife and I went to Carrabbas and had a really good dinner. Amazingly, she didn't dominate the conversation by bitching about work or talking about baseball. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind if she bitches about work, but she'll go on and on about it, often repeating the same things (while bouncing from one topic to another like a kid on too much sugar) and it gets old really fast!

But we had a pleasant evening, with actual conversation. When we got home we started a little light kissing (the niece was out for the night), which soon developed into increasingly passionate kisses. We made out for a bit in the living room, playing with each other through our clothes, before going to the bedroom, hurriedly stripping, and making love fucking! I finished first, as usual, and then helped her along with the aid of her favorite toy. (In my defense, she doesn't cum from sex no matter how long I go, so this is pretty normal for us.) I would have liked to have gone longer, taken my time to play and eat her out, but we weren't sure if the niece was coming back home or not, so we felt a bit rushed. Still, it was pretty fantastic.

When I got up Saturday morning, I checked Dizcreet for any updates and saw one of my friends, Brent, online (I use his screen name with his permission). Now Brent and I have chatted before, not quite flirting but there were hints of it in our conversations, and I know him to be the kind of person I respond well too: intelligent, good conversationalist, good sense of humor. Plus, he flatters me a lot, and I like that. We'd not had a lot of time to that point to stay in a chat at the same time, so nothing had developed yet. But Saturday morning he had the house to himself and I was up before the wife and had some time before she would be awake. The niece had stayed out after all, so I was basically alone.

He and I started chatting, talking about each of our levels of experience (basically none for the both of us) and what we were looking for. It was feeling like a good opportunity to play, but I was unsure and hesitant; I don't have a lot of chat sex experience with girls, and none at all with a guy. I wasn't even sure how I'd feel about it with another man, or if I could really get into it. One of us (I honestly don't remember who) made the first playful move, and the other responded, and I told myself  "fuck it, role with it and see what happens."

We got increasingly playful, then were soon both into full on, "I'll put this there and do that just like this!" mode! It was much hotter than I expected it to be, and he later confirmed it was the same for him. I was typing one-handed while stroking myself, getting nearer and nearer to orgasm. When he typed that he'd cum and it covered his belly and chest, I erupted, coming harder than I have in several years!

Now this is mild compared to what some of you do, but it was a big moment for me. It wasn't the same as finally getting to suck a guy off, but it was a first time for me doing anything like that with a guy. I braced myself for the inevitable, post-cum shame or guilt, but it never happened. In fact, I was upbeat and almost bubbly all Saturday morning, feeling kind of energized.

I saw him later Saturday on Dizcreet again, and we talked about the morning. Brent assured me that he'd really enjoyed it, and agreed with me that it was totally different from jerking off to gay porn and imagining yourself in that situation. He, like me, had never done anything like that with another guy and was looking forward to another round. Maybe next weekend?

Now we both know if we ever do get to be with another guy that way in real life, the result may be different. I think we'll both get into it at the time, but we aren't sure about that "after the cum" feeling. But for now, we've both passed and hurdle and are happy with the results. And I'm glad it was with Brent.

I thought about it often the rest of the weekend, staying horny with the memory and with the anticipation of maybe doing it again next week, if it works out. As for a real life meeting? Well, the chances are greater than zero, I suppose; he only lives 3.5 hours away (give or take), so who knows? For now, we're both just enjoying the ride and there's no need to push anything.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Friday Weigh In

I really wanted to draw this out this morning, but I slept late and for some reason the wife won't leave me alone for more than a minute. It's not like she's being romantic or anything, she just senses I want to do something that I don't want her to know about, so she's making it a point to be in the way.

I'll clean this up later but for now just know that this morning I weighed 248.6, down an even 5 lbs. from last week, and 3.2 lbs from my starting weight.

I set myself small goals to ultimately reach my overall goal, and they're in the form of I want to be under... The first goal was to be under 250, and now my new goal is to get under 245, and so on. That for me is better than focusing on the final weight, 220, because I can celebrate little victories. Plus that keeps me from concentrating on how far away from the final goal I still am.

So, I'm in good spirits today, and I enter the weekend with a positive attitude about my diet. I just have to avoid over indulging like I'm prone to do, which can mean putting two or three lbs back on by Monday.

Have a good weekend everyone!

Flash Fiction Friday - Stolen - April 19

Key Words - Stolen
Word Limit - 300
Extra Words - 10 words for everyone you personally invite to join FFF
Extra Credit - Involve a Panda Bear
It's not a lot, baby, but it's ours. Our first place together; can you believe it?

It's small, and has a weird smell, and the walls are paper thin. I swear I can hear the upstairs neighbor grunting as he (god, I hope it's a he) drops a deuce.

Oh, baby, no please don't get all paranoid! I was just kidding; I can't hear him. Nobody will hear you when you have to potty, I promise!

Except for me.

No, no, I'm kidding! Baby... Yes, I promise I won't listen!

Now it might take a few weeks to get some furniture in here. We about blew both of our paychecks just putting the first and last down on this place. We'll be eating ramen noodles for a while, I think.

But next payday, if we have any leftover after the bills, we'll rent-to-own some nice stuff. At least a bed and a couch.

Damn, I wish it could be more. We should have planned better and saved more money before...

No, baby, I'm absolutely thrilled that we're living together! I just wish I could give you more. Everything is just so fucking expensive.

I know it's important to you, but you're going to have to cut back on your save-the-Pandas donations, okay?

I really thought I'd have more of my shit together by now, you know? You deserve a nice house outside of the city, instead of this shit-hole. God, when was the last time the walls were painted? And did you see the kitchen floor? The way the linoleum is bubbling up?

Fuck! What the hell was I thinking, dragging you here into this? You deserve so much more. You deserve a man who can at least put some fucking furniture in!

I... I'm sorry, baby. I'm just feeling down; you know how I get. I just feel so fucking useless.

No, of course I don't think you're a loser! Why would you say that?

Oh. Yes, I know you can have your choice of guys. But...

No, I don't think you're stupid. But...

Well, now that you ask... why DID you choose me?

Really? You think I'm smart?

And kind?

Okay, I do have a good sense of humor.

Hot?! Oh, please, I'm not...

Okay, okay, have it your way; I'm hot. Thank you baby.

Yes, I do feel better. You always make me feel better. You stole my heart!

Really? You want to here? Aren't you afraid of the neighbors hearing us?

Ha ha. We don't even have a bed.

Oh, yea, the mattress. I forgot about that.

God I love you, baby! 

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Chips Ahoy!

I mentioned Dizcreet.com before, a social media site primarily for bi, married men. I suppose it's mainly a "try to hook up" site, but it also provides a place for guys like me, who have the desire to be with a man but haven't gotten it to work out yet, to talk about their experiences (or non) and their feelings about it.

I know, I know... guys talking about their feelings; how gay!

Since starting this blog I've found that I'm starting to chip away at some of the walls the homophobic training of my formative years put up. I mean yes, I played around as a pre-adolescent, and I had the one experience when I was older, but I've kept telling myself "I'm not gay, or even bi, because I'm not attracted to men." And that's still true, really; I don't respond to the male form, either face or body, the same way I do with women.

But some of the other differences I always told myself were there are starting to be not so different anymore. For instance, my attraction to women has always been more about their personality, their intelligence, and their sense of humor. A physical 4 or 5 by most peoples' reckoning (and I apologize for using such a sexist numbering system, but it's the only way I know to make my point) can easily become to me an 8 if I like them because of the above. And the hottest woman in the room can become a 3 easily if they are mean-spirited, dumb, and/or humorless. When I was younger I might still have wanted to fuck a woman like that, but in my older years I'd go with the first example every time.

Since joining Dizcreet.com, and making "friends" and looking at their pictures and learning a little something about some of them from what they post, I'm discovering that I feel in some respects the same way about men. I don't care about sculpted abs, big muscles or what their faces look like. I like the guys who seem intelligent, nice, and can make me laugh.

That's not to say I'm lusting after those guys; for me it's still (again, so far) the act that I fantasize about, not so much who I do it with. But I do know that I probably wouldn't want to do anything with a boorish and crass guy, no matter what he looked like. And I'd be much more willing to overlook the flaws in any guy who was more like, well, me.

Another difference, and in a way it kind of goes along with the first one, is that I never considered flirting with a guy. Now I did flirt with T, the guy I used to work with that I tried to get something going with, but I didn't really feel it, you know? I said things I thought he wanted to hear ("nice cock!" or whatever) but not because I really thought that way. And in some ways, I'm still doing that on Dizcreet.

But I'm slowly starting to appreciate the different shapes and sizes, and frankly think of some as being more attractive than others. And it feels like it flows a little easier when I say "wow! That's a suckable dick!", like I really mean it. That has less to do with size than proportion, and how neat they're kept. It's still more about the act itself, because I think in terms of "would I want that in my mouth?", but it's definitely a different way for me to think. And when someone says the same thing about mine I find it easier to respond in a flirtatious manner, like I would with a woman. I just keep chipping away at those walls.

I haven't yet gotten into a one-on-one chat with any of the "friends" in my list, but someone tried to get my attention last night. I was horny, and in the middle of a good wank (the wife and the niece were both gone, hallelujah!) when I posted "who else is jacking off right now?" There weren't any responses for the next 10 minutes or so, and I finished my thing and left the site. But this morning I saw that a friend had responded in chat asking if I was still there and wanted to chat. I sent him a message saying I was sorry I missed him, but I would probably be back on this evening around 7ish, and he replied a little later that he'd try to be on around that time.

And I'm actually kind of looking forward to it. I know the wife will be gone, so I can chat with him without worrying about her looking over my shoulder. And if the niece is gone and will be out for a while, maybe I'll play with myself while we talk. And if he wants to Skype too... well, we'll see. I don't get off on the standard gay porn of some stud jacking off, but something tells me it could be different if I'm watching someone I have a connection with, especially if I know he's turned on by watching me. That feeds into my whole need for validation; it wouldn't work if I thought the guy found me unattractive. Is that irony, or am I just being a hypocrite?

At least one of my readers that I've developed a rapport with has signed up for a Dizcreet account, and we're friends on there. I wouldn't be opposed to chatting or Skyping with him, were he to be interested and the timing were ever right. (It's not my place to name names, but if he wants to identify himself that's fine with me.)

I don't know if all the walls will come down, but it's fun to swing the hammer at them and watch the chips fly! 

Monday, April 15, 2013

Weekend Update

Good morning, and how was your weekend? Things went well here; the weather was nice and I got some yard work done. I got a bit of a sunburn on my arms and legs, but that's just the base for a good tan I'll get this year.

The college kids who live behind us had a big party Saturday for alumni weekend. They had a live band, plenty of beer, and one of the parents organized a crawfish boil (he is, of course, from Louisiana.) Normally I'd have sat in my yard and resented all the noise and grumbled about those damned kids but they invited the wife and I over and, against my normal instincts, we decided to go.

And we had a pretty good time. I'd never eaten crawfish before, but one of the parents showed me and the wife how to get at the meat in the tail. Only the really hardcore ate any other part of the critter, like the head, and I'm not hardcore; I stuck to the tails. It wasn't bad, but it's a lot of work for a small amount of meat. I guess that's why they cooked 300 lbs of the things, though. Along with they crawfish, they boiled small potatoes and a delicious spicy sausage, so we got plenty to eat.

And the band was very good, too. They played a kind of easy going, jazzy rock-and-roll. It was a nice, spring day so all the young college girls were wearing light sundresses, some of them short enough to make me awfully glad it was a breezy day and they were drunk enough not to care. I love thongs!

The wife left at 5:00 to go to the baseball game but I stayed another hour or so, talking to some of the kids. I wound up drinking too much, but I don't think I made an old-man fool out of myself or anything. And now they know me as Rob, instead of just the asshole who yells from his back door to cut the music down or put that fire out (in the past they've had open fires near the fenced area where all the trees and bushes grow.) And I know them as Gil and Chuck and Tim and Baxtor, and not just the damned kids making all that noise and mess.

Sunday I mostly just stayed around the house, recuperating from drinking too much the day before. Despite being home and having stopped drinking by early evening, I was still drunk when I stumbled to bed at 9. I slept until 6:30 Sunday morning and felt better than I had a right to, but still not great. All-in-all, though, it was a good time.

Friday, April 12, 2013

This one time (Part Three)

On to the third, and final, part of this story. I briefly considered punching it up a bit, making it a bit sexier. I want to give you bitches a hot story; I know bitches love a hot story. (Sorry, that sounded funnier in my head than it looks now that I've written it.) But instead, you're going to get the real story. And it's just not that hot. Some of the details are fuzzy, but that has more to do with how lame it was than how much I'd had to drink (though that obviously plays a part in it as well.) 

Zeke's apartment was on the ground floor, which was fortunate because I don't know how well I would have navigated stairs at that point. I knocked on, then pounded on, his door (not a euphemism) but he didn't answer. What the hell? Was the fucker already asleep at (looking at my watch) 1:30 in the morning? Oh, shit, it'd gotten later than I thought! Time flies when you're passed out, I guess. I might have been better off just going on home and sleeping it off. 

But as they say, there's no rest for the horny, and I'd decided there would be no sleep for the intended target of my horniness. I walked stumbled around to the back of the building and starting pounding on Zeke's window (still not a euphemism), softly hollering out his name. After what seemed like seconds, but was probably long, long minutes for his neighbors, he looked out his window and saw me. 

I need to interject some physical details about Zeke at this point, as I've just realized I neglected to do that. All great sex stories have the part where the participants are described in exacting details. Zeke was about 4 inches shorter than me, and though he wasn't skinny, I was fat so I outweighed him by about 50 lbs. He had curly, orange-red hair than normally hung down to his shoulders, but this night he had a bad case of bed head. He kind of looked like a pasty-white version of Buckwheat, to be frank about it. 

He gave me the kind of look that you only see from people who were in a deep, comfortable sleep and then rudely awoken by a drunk, horny teen. I'm guessing he did the mental coin flip: "heads I go back to sleep, tails I get some head. Hm, best two out of three. Dammit!" He sighed and gestured for me to go back around to the front (still not a euphemism), and I hurried around. 

He had a sheepish grin on his face when he opened the door and stood aside to let me in. "Hey, Zeke," I drunkenly whispered, which meant I was probably at least 10 dbs louder than I would have been if I'd just spoken normally. "You can't sleep either?" 

"Blow me," he growled, but still grinning. 

"Funny you should mention that!" 

Aside: Okay, I'm not going to try to make this sexier than it really was, but I will try to make the dialogue a little more interesting. :end aside.

Well, we both knew what I was there for, and now that Zeke was waking up he was getting into it too. We went back to his room and he lit a few candles. (He wasn't being romantic by any means, he just hadn't paid his electric bill in a few months and was cut off.) While he was doing that, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, and I might have nuzzled his neck. He tensed for just a second, then relaxed while I undid the button on his shorts and let them drop to the ground. I fondled his cock for a bit, then he turned towards me. I don't know if he'd intended to kiss me or not, but I didn't give him the chance. I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth. He wasn't fully erect, but his dick grew as I sucked on it. After a very short time he pulled out of my mouth. 

"You still have all your clothes on, Rob," he said, laughing nervously. I was too drunk to be concerned about my appearance at that point, so I pulled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes, and shucked off my pants and underwear (tighty-whities, if you must know.) "Let's get on the bed," he suggested. 

He hopped on the edge like he did the first time, and just like then I leaned over and started sucking him again. This time he gave me some guidance, told me to use my hands, and maybe it was at least a little better than the first time. Soon, though, he told me to stop. 

"Get on the bed with me," he said. "I want to suck you too." His bed was a double, kind of small but there was enough room for both of us. He directed me to lay opposite him and scooted down so his cock was near my face. I played with him and took some time looking at it. He was circumcised (did I mention that before?), and probably a little smaller than I am now; maybe around 5.5" or 6", and not very thick. Not a bad "starter" dick, if you know what I mean. 

Meanwhile he was playing with my dick, and I was introduced to a condition that many men have to contend with: whiskey dick! Between the alcohol and being just plain nervous (despite my bravado) I wasn't even able to get a chubby. But Zeke was a real trooper and didn't let that deter him; he leaned over and started sucking on me just as I took his cock in my mouth again. 

Even without a hard-on, feeling his mouth on me was pretty good. And my cock did start to grow a little bit, which must have excited him because his dick got a little bigger, and harder, too. The position was awkward, with both of us laying on our sides and leaning over the other, so he just kind of rolled on top of me in a classic 69. With this position, I think I was able to get most of his cock in my mouth (he really wasn't that long, I guess), and my nose was brushing against his balls. He wasn't very hairy, as I remember it. 

He was alternately stroking my shaft as he sucked me (probably just with a finger and thumb, though, as I never did get fully erect) and fondling my balls, which felt pretty good, so I tried to mimic what he was doing. I don't remember tasting any pre-cum, but my mouth was juicier than it had been the first time. My fingers were wet from stroking him while sucking, and without really thinking about it I reach up and over, and tapped on his back door (there's the euphemism!) He groaned when I did and said "Now that's what I like!" I worked my finger in and out until I was past the second knuckle; I had no knowledge of prostates at the time, but I must have been working his pretty good. 

After a bit of this he lifted up and turned around, and said "I want you to fuck me!" Now this hadn't been part of my plans at all, but I was willing to try it at that point. He got some kind of lube off of a shelf near us and smeared some on my dick (which was still mostly soft) and his asshole. He tried his best, but the most he could do was get the head in just a bit and kind of move around. The more he worked at it, the smaller his dick got until he was practically as deflated as I was. He got more frustrated, which increased the tension and also made it less and less likely that I would get hard enough to penetrate him. 

Finally he gave up, and I asked if he wanted me to finish him with my mouth. It was what I'd wanted all along, dammit! He said no, and that the mood had passed since I couldn't get a hard-on. I apologized and said it was just because I was so drunk, and next time would be better. 

"I don't think there will be a next time," he said, with just a hint of bitterness. 

"Why not?" I asked. 

"Well, this was okay, but you're really not my type. I just don't think it would work out." 

That stung a little. "I'm not your type? Why, because I'm fat?" I was starting to get in a pissy mood. 

"Well, yea, that's it mostly," he said, haughtily. 

I felt a little crushed. I wasn't attracted to Zeke, and I sure didn't want a romantic relationship with him, but he was a friend and a convenient outlet for my curiosity. His words stung, and for a moment I thought I'd just get dressed a leave, angrily, and maybe write him off for at least a while. 

But I didn't; instead I shook it off and we started talking. I asked him about his experience with being with guys, and it turned out there had only been two: an older cousin and a guy who was a circus roadie (or maybe the cousin was the circus roadie; I don't know.) He talked about a girl he was seeing and fucking, and basically we just moved back into being friends. Maybe it was my weight, or maybe Zeke felt inadequate, like it was his fault I couldn't get hard. I don't know and I suppose it doesn't really matter.

After that night we remained friends, and hung out together quite a bit, but neither of us mentioned it again until a few years later. He brought it up when I was home on leave (I was in the Army) and he and I were riding around. He hinted at wanting to fool around and I gently, but firmly, shut down that conversation; I was at a different point in my life, and was a good 3 or 4 years away from really feeling the urge to do anything with a man again. 

I still feel bad about the way that night ended, and what was really a lost opportunity. I wish I'd waited until another time when I wouldn't have been so drunk, and maybe both of us would have enjoyed it more. Or maybe I would have been too uptight to even do as much as I did. I only told one person about that night, a bisexual girl I dated in college (but never fucked.) She asked why I didn't kiss him, and I told her it never crossed my mind. I just wanted to suck his dick, not make out. Kissing would have made it... gay, or something. 

One last thing from that episode: the next morning I woke up, hung-over as hell, to find my friend Patrick standing by my bed calling my name. He had been one of the guys with my cousin and I the night before, and came by to check on me. I had this weird idea that he was a master lock picker of some kind, but it turns out I'd just left the door unlocked. My cousin later told me he'd sent Patrick over. I'd driven Chuck home the night before, and he waited about 20 minutes to call the house to make sure I was there. Of course I wasn't and he had been worried about me.

Moobie Friday

A rare three-fer today as I post my moobies. Blame JFB at Break Out (I can't link easily from my phone, sorry) for this.

Friday Weigh in

Not a good week, diet-wise. I didn't eat well all week, using one excuse after the other to eat more than I should, especially in the evening. I also drank more this week than I should have, which makes it harder to exercise control over my snacking. I didn't monitor my calorie intake at all, but kept telling myself "oh, I haven't been THAT bad today" while making vague mental notes of what I'd eaten. I also fooled myself into thinking the half hour each day at lunch I spent throwing ball with some of my softball teammates made up for the overeating. Not that the exercise, such as it was, wasn't good, but it won't compensate for over indulging.

So I'm up this week:

253.6    +1.8

I know I shouldn't tie my self-worth into my weight, but I do. I especially tie it into my ability to lose weight, because (in my mind) that's an indication of my discipline; my willpower.  For all the other things that are wrong with me, I should be able to control something as simple as how much I eat, and therefore how much I weigh.

This week I'm going to make an effort to get back into some kind of exercise program, either consistently walking in the evenings or getting on the elliptical or something. And I'm going to get back to tracking my calories. I tell myself when I make a home-made meal that it's too hard to figure out portion sizes and calories, but it's really not. I have to take responsibility and get this shit under control.


Tonight's the first home game for the local lower-A baseball team, and the wife is excited. I know in one way she would love for me to go with, but she knows I'd be cranky and bitchy the whole night so she won't push it. I'm looking forward to having some time to myself anyway, and I really hope the niece will find a way to get out of the house for the night.

This one time - Part Two

I don't really remember what was going on in my mind after that night with Zeke. Looking back on it, I call it "my drunken attempt", but the truth is I wasn't very drunk at all that night. Buzzed yes, but not drunk. It was the next time we tried that I was really wasted.

I truthfully didn't even plan on a next time; I figured Zeke didn't want it, and I wasn't going to beg him again. I don't think I was embarrassed or ashamed, and I don't remember any awkwardness between us the next time we hung out, which probably would have been within a day or two. Zeke might have felt awkward, or afraid that I would say something to someone and get him in trouble, but he never said anything or acted any different that I could tell. We were probably even alone together a few times after that, but just never brought the subject up. I'm not even sure I thought about it that much, except maybe at night when I'd jack off, but my fantasies were varied so who knows.

It was about two weeks later, I think, when I was over at Zeke's and I asked if he wanted to go with me to my cousin Chuck's house. Some of the guys were going to hang out and drink some beers and have what we so proudly told ourselves were intellectual discussions about the world. Zeke didn't have anything better to do that night, so he said yes, and we went. I drove a '72 Volkswagen Beetle back then. It's not important to the story, but I loved that Beetle and thought I'd bring it up.

One of the guys, Greg, said he'd heard something funny that day, the expression "He was as happy as a queer in Boy's Town." We all chuckled (oh, come on, it's kind of funny) but I glanced over at Zeke to see what his reaction was. He was grinning, but I could tell it was a bit forced. Ten or fifteen minutes later we headed on out, as it was getting a bit late and I wanted to get out before more gay jokes were brought up. To be fair to Greg, he was, and is, one of the more tolerant people I know, and he wasn't intentionally gay bashing with the joke.

Anyway, Zeke asked if I could take him to Kroger (a grocery store, for those of you who are unfamiliar with it) to pick up some things, and then from there I took him home. He asked if I wanted to come in but I declined, as I was tired and just wanted to go to bed.

"Ok," he said. "Well, I wanted to tell you... about that thing a couple of weeks ago, you know what I mean?"

I laughed and said "Yes, Zeke, I know what you mean."

"Right," he chuckled. "Well, anyway, I've been thinking about it and well, if you ever want to try again I say go for it." He had a kind of tight grin on his face, maybe feeling the same blood-pounding-in-ears, light-headed feeling I'd had the night I talked to him about it.

And for some reason, all of the embarrassment and shame I hadn't felt before hit me all at once. It was like I was being called out for what we'd done. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but in my mind I was thinking "there's just no fucking way that's ever happening again." Looking back, I think it was just the years of homophobic training those of us who grew up in the South in the 70s and 80s had kicking in, making the idea at that moment simply revolting to me. I wonder now if this is the reason that, for me, the urge to be with a guy will be real strong for a period, then almost fall off altogether for a long time.

I think Zeke saw something in my face, because his grin fell a little bit and he looked a little sad. "Yea, we'll see Zeke. I don't know, but we'll see, okay?" I didn't want to mislead about the likelihood of anything happening, but I didn't want to just flat out say "no fucking way" either. I felt bad, like I'd done something wrong or mean, and I pretty much avoided being alone with him for the next few days, which made me feel even worse. It wasn't that I was worried about him trying anything, I just didn't want to talk about that anymore.

The next weekend Chuck and some of the guys came over to my house (my parents were away), and I got shit-faced. I was a fat guy who did a lot of drinking, so I hardly ever got drunk enough to miss chunks of the evening, but I did that night. Bits and pieces came back to me later, with my cousin filling in some of the blanks, but basically we drank a lot that night. I'd somehow decided that my cousin was the one who was a danger on the road and I insisted on driving him home. I don't remember that part, and I only vaguely remember him walking from the car saying "bye" in a sing-song voice that he would use when he was drunk to annoy people, namely me.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the Beetle, engine running, in the parking lot at Zeke's apartment building. I don't know how long I'd been passed out, but it must have been a while because my head was clearer than it had been earlier. I was still drunk, but from that point on there aren't anymore blank spots. It's a wonder I didn't run off the road and hit a tree getting there, but I was incredibly lucky (and yes, stupid) about my drinking and driving back in those days.

And there wasn't any question in my mind why I was there. (To be continued.)

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

This one time (not at band camp) - Part 1

It occurs to me that I haven't yet told the story behind my one drunken attempt to have sex with a guy. Well, it was two attempts, but with the same guy. Like, a couple weeks apart. Well, let me just tell it.

Larry, or Zeke as he was known to us, was probably in his mid 20s when I was 17 and hanging out with the same group of friends as he was. Incidentally, I'd find out years later that L also lived in the same apartment complex, probably two doors down from Doug, a good friend of mine who was the gateway to all the others.

Aside: Okay, this doesn't really have to do with the story, but I want to make sure this is clear, so bear with me. I met Doug through a relative of mine when they were sharing an apartment together. Doug and I became good friends, and through him I met the other guys who lived there, one of whom was Zeke. Over time we partied together quite a bit, and I would consider most of them to have been really good friends. L was 5 years younger, living with her mom just a few doors down. We never met during that time, but it's likely we saw each other in passing. :end aside.

Zeke was a gifted musician and is still the only person I've ever met who could play a guitar right or left handed. Okay, that might not be so rare, but he could also play a right-hand and left-hand strung guitar equally well whether he was holding it right handed or left handed.

He also had an amazing keyboards/electronic piano setup (four of them, each a different kind, arranged in a semi-circle in his room) and would play them all hours of the day. You could call out a song, and if he'd heard it once he could play it almost flawlessly the first time. After that, you couldn't really tell his cover from the original. He could also sing like nobody's business, mimicking the tone and timber of both men and women singers.

Now it may sound like I'm exaggerating his skills, but I swear that I'm not. I once played the XTC album English Settlement for him, and he fell in love with the song "It's Nearly Africa." He listened to that song separately, then went back in his room, fiddled with some settings on his four different keyboards, and within 20 minutes was playing it perfectly, including the percussions. Whenever he played, his eyes had all kinds of crazy. I would have been afraid of him if it weren't for the fact that even then I could have broken him in half.

I figured out over time that Zeke was probably gay; it wasn't anything specific, just an accumulation of his mannerisms and things he'd say. I once asked Doug what he thought, and he agreed, but we both agreed it didn't matter. Zeke was... Zeke! He was a part of our brotherhood. And/or sisterhood. But I did start thinking of possibilities.

So one night I found myself over at Zeke's, as usual, drinking a few beers and watching him play guitar while I held my guitar and pretended like I was learning something from him. He was so good, but couldn't teach worth a lick; despite many hours of trying to learn from him, his ADHD had him going from one song to the next so fast I never had a chance to learn the chord progression so I could practice it later. Plus, this night I was to busy going over in my head what I'd say to pay much attention.

He finally set the guitar aside and grabbed us both another beer, and before he could pick it up I said "Zeke, I want to ask you something." He looked nervous, which really wasn't unusual for him, but said "Okay, go ahead." I took a long pull off the beer, trying to get some liquid courage, and blurted out "Are you gay?"

He winced slightly, and the look of shame on his face was fleeting, but made me feel bad nonetheless. "I'm not judging," I hurried to assure him. "You're still my friend no matter what. I'm just curious."

"Well, 'gay' isn't exactly right. I like girls and guys, so I guess I'm bisexual." He took a long drink off of his beer. "Is it so obvious?" he asked suddenly, a little alarmed.

"No, not really," I answered truthfully. "I picked up on little things here and there, but you aren't broadcasting it or anything." I took another long pull and emptied my beer, steeling myself for the next part. I was just getting up the nerve when he jumped up to grab me another beer. When he came back, it took me another few minutes to work up the courage again, but I finally did.

"Zeke," I blurted out (I did a lot of blurting back then), "I want to suck your dick." My blood was pounding in my ears and I felt almost light-headed, but I'd said it! No matter what else happened, I'd said it!

Zeke looked shocked, and I couldn't help laughing. He finally grinned and said "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm serious," I said, still chuckling. "Look, I'm curious about it, and I figured you were one person I could ask without having to worry about offending too much."

"I'm just... I can't believe it's you asking that! I would never have thought you were gay."

"I don't know if I'm gay, but I'm curious and want to try it out. Zeke, I want to suck your cock. I want you to cum in my mouth!" For some reason, I thought saying it more directly would be a good idea, either to help him over the shock or maybe get him horny. I mean, he's a guy, right? I'd never had a blow job, but I figured they must feel pretty incredible. Who would turn one down?

"I don't know, Rob," he said, looking embarrassed. "This is just weird. You're still 17 aren't you?" I nodded confirmation, feeling disappointed. "I could get into trouble for that, especially since you're a guy."

"I wouldn't tell anyone" I whined. "It would just be between you and me. Come on, Zeke, I'd really like to do this."

We went back and forth probably another 10 minutes, but I'll spare you the line by line account. The end result is that he agreed that I could suck him, but I had to agree to stop when he said to stop. He went into the bathroom to clean up a bit, and I followed him to watch from the doorway. I was nervous, excited, and horny as hell!

He led me back into his room and stood in front of his bed. "What now?" he asked. "Hell, I thought you'd know!" I said. We chuckled a bit, then I reached out and pulled his zipper down and unbuttoned his shorts, letting them fall to the floor. He wasn't wearing underwear, so I just took him in hand and gave it a few gentle tugs. His cock grew in my hands, and in my memory it was pretty decent sized but I didn't have a lot other than my own to compare it to.

Zeke's bed was raised off the floor sufficiently that when he hopped up sitting on the edge, I only had to lean over a little to take him in my mouth. I don't remember how far down on him I was able to go, but not far enough to hit a gag point, so maybe about halfway or a little more. I didn't know what I was doing, and porn wasn't as readily available to learn from then as it is now, but I figured a classic up-and-down movement couldn't be too wrong, so that's what I did. My hands were on his bed on either side of him, bracing myself, and I considered grabbing his ass but decided against it.

The taste of his cock was strange, but not bad. From tasting my own, I knew what pre-cum would taste like, but I don't think he ever produced any. I had a good idea of what his cum would taste like because, again, I'd eaten my own before. I really wantwd to experience this!

All in all, it was probably a pretty bad blow job. I didn't know to use my hands, or to cup his balls, or really anything else. Just the up-and-down movement. It was only two or three minutes before he told me to stop, and though I wanted to continue until the payoff, an agreement is an agreement.

I asked him if it had been okay, and he said yes, and if I'd kept up much longer he would have cum. I told him that's what I wanted, but he said he was worried about me choking or something. I told him, and I meant it, that I liked sucking him and would like to do it again sometime but he got that embarrassed look on his face again and didn't really say one way or the other. I told him I was horny and was going to go home and jack off, and asked if he'd touch me just so I'd have something else to think about to help me along, but he refused. I got the hint and left, figuring that would be the end of that.

But I was wrong. (To be continued.)

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Closing one book, opening a new one

The last contact I had with Jeff (from the CL ad) was March 28. I sent an email asking how things were going, and he replied saying they were good but busy. He said maybe we could meet up the next week (last week) and things would settle down by Tuesday. I said when he knew more about how his week was unfolding to send me an email and we'd get together for that beer. I haven't heard anything since, so I'm guessing I can write that one off. It's a shame, too, since I thought that was finally going to go somewhere.

Thanks to TJ Pederson at A Bi Problem, though, I've signed up at Dizcreet, a site for married men exploring their bi-sexual nature. The site is still in beta, so I'm not sure if it's supposed to be a "dating" or "hookup" site, but for now it seems to be a good social network, and another way to show off my dick pics. And look at a lot of dick pics, if you're into that sort of thing, lol.

I've written before that I'm not attracted to men; I don't think of guys as being "hot", and even naked pictures of dicks don't do anything for me. It's the act that turns me on. But I do like the compliments I've gotten on my dick pic, both from my readers on this blog and from my new "friends" at Dizcreet. And it is fun to get into the banter, the back and forth of messages and compliments and whatnot.

I often wonder if, when the time comes and I do meet a guy to play around, if I'll be able to really let loose all of my inhibitions and enjoy the moment. Or will I be too worried about how I look, how the guy sees me, if I'm acting too "gay" or too "straight" at the moment? What will I balk at, when the chips are down?

I love for the wife to stick her finger or one of our slim toys in my ass while she's going down on me, but would I want a guy to do that? My fantasies with a guy really aren't about him blowing me, though, as much as me blowing him. If he wanted me to play with his ass, would I be into it? I guess I'll have to wait and see how that one goes. I'm almost positive there will be no dick-in-ass in either direction, but only "almost" because I can't say my tastes won't change down the road.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Weekend Update

How was your weekend? Mine was pretty good, mostly, except for... well, let's get the good stuff out of the way first.

Friday night we went to a local establishment and saw a kick-ass, rockin and rollin band. I got drunker than I needed to, but damn I had a great time! The wife isn't a big fan of that type of music (she likes more of the club music) but some of our friends were there and she had a good time hanging out with them.

The local baseball team had their Open House day Saturday morning, so the wife went to that with our family friend (and the guy who paid for hers and his season tickets) while I went to my mothers for the weekly visit. I was feeling pretty rough, but I pulled it off and got out okay after a respectable 30 minutes. I came back home and zoned out for a bit waiting for the wife to get home, which she did around 11:30 a.m. We didn't do a lot after that except our weekly grocery shopping. I took a much-needed nap for about 3 hours, had a cigar, then made chili and cornbread for dinner.

Sunday was a beautiful day, so the wife and I hopped on the motorcycle and went to Happy's, a local flea market. Whenever I feel fat, ugly and/or dumb, I like to walk around Happy's. After 15 minutes or so, I start to feel thinner, prettier, and smart! I understand that fully half of the people there are probably doing the same thing, but it works for me. I had another cigar when we got back home, and cooked some lemon pepper chicken breasts for dinner.

So, like I say, mostly a good weekend. Now on to the bad stuff.

This. Is. Embarrassing. It's TMI, it's pretty gross, but first and foremost it's embarrassing. If you read past this point, you only have yourself to blame. Duly warned? Duly warned!

So sometime before I woke up Saturday morning, all hungover and feeling rough, that damned hernia that swelled up last week started bleeding. Of course I discover this as I'm in the bathroom doing... bathroom things, and it really scared me at first until I realized what was going on. I'm not talking about a little streak of blood as I wiped; it was a disgusting mess! Now you'd think this would be a cause of alarm, but apparently with external hemorrhoids it's not that big a deal and you just work through it.

Well, I got that cleaned up and just kind of hoped it would go away. I use a hemorrhoidal gel that I was hoping would seal the area that the bleed was coming from but that just made it a gooier mess than before. By the end of the day, I was just glad I was wearing really dark blue underwear! I threw that pair in the hamper with the rest of the laundry Saturday night, got cleaned up good again, and wore a different pair to bed when we went. (I normally sleep in the nude, but didn't want to soil the sheets with my ass blood.)

Sunday morning wasn't as bad, but again, I'm glad the underwear was dark red. In truth, the bleeding was never really heavy but the accumulation of it and the way it would get smeared around throughout the day made it look a lot worse than it was. I got cleaned up, and decided what I needed to do was put a barrier between the bleeding area and my underwear. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to walk around all day with a wad of toilet paper stuck up your ass? Especially when you spend some of that day on a motorcycle? It worked, but damn it was painful!

So I started thinking that I needed something thinner, but absorbent enough for a light flow of blood. Something like a cotton or linen napkin. And it would be nice if it had an adhesive strip to keep it in place, because throughout the day your normal bending and twisting and sitting and whatnot will tend to cause it to shift around on you. I didn't want it to stick to the skin, so the adhesive should be on the back and you stick it to the underwear. And it should definitely be hygienic; a hygienic nap...kin... dammit!

So, what has two thumbs and is going to wear one of the wife's panty liners to work?
This guy!
So. Embarrassing! 

I'll take a couple spares with me in case I need to change it through the day, but I need some way of having them handy without stuffing them in my pocket. A bag of some kind, and if it's big enough it could hold my other stuff too, like my wallet, keys, glasses and contacts stuff, etc. And I don't want to hold onto it all day, leaving me with just one hand, so it needs a strap I can throw it over my shoulder. And what the hell, it might as well be pretty too, right? 

Oh, right, like a purse. Dammit!

The only good part about it is they're scented, so every time I fart it'll be like walking in a flower shop. 

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Drinks all around!

I'm celebrating one month of blogging, so drink are on me! Of course I understand it's safe to say that on the internet, especially on a Sunday morning, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Actually, yesterday was one month, but I was too hung over in the morning to write anything, and then later in the day I just didn't have time. I did have a nap and then a cigar, though, and made cornbread and chili for dinner. So it was a pretty good day all in all.

But back to celebrating! In my first month, I've had a total of 2050 page views, averaging right around 65 per day or so. The weekends are the slowest, getting usually in the 30s, but that's to be expected; people are busy with family and friends, and aren't trying to avoid real work like they are during the week. (That's what I'm doing at work, anyway.)

My all-time high was March 9; I had 167 views that day, and it was mostly due to James F Break at Break Out introducing me to his readers and saying I have a nice wiener. Thanks, JFB! I'd written him an email asking for some advice on how to become more popular, and he told me to simply keep doing what I'm doing: write good posts (I hope most of what I write is good), comment on other blogs, and be patient. Good advice for anyone doing anything, I suppose.

I have 7 members to this blog so far, JFB being one of them. You can see who they are on the right side. For the page hits I'm getting, I assume I have some fairly regular readers who aren't members, and that's cool too. You're all welcome! GAM (Gay Asian Male) is a frequent anonymous commenter who likes stocky, hairy guys, but supports my efforts to lose weight as well.

I've really enjoyed blogging here for the past month, and showing everyone my wiener. I'm planning to continue both for some time, though as we all know it's inevitable that the number of posts will trail off at some point. But not too soon, I think. I still have a lot of my back story to tell, as the mood strikes me. Some "secrets" have yet to be revealed, and perhaps they never will be, but most likely I will at some point. And it may cost me goodwill among my readers; I hope not, but these things happen.

I also hope to have adventures to relate here, both with ladies and with men, but that remains to be seen.  So far, it looks like all of the opportunities I've been working on have gone south, which is very frustrating. But there are always more opportunities out there to be found, and I'll keep trying. I hate having to start over, but we do what we must, no?

Thanks to all of you for a successful first month.

Friday, April 5, 2013

Friday Weigh-In and Other Topics

My first weigh-in was disappointing, mostly because it looked like I was on my way to a big loss. With my tooth hurting so much all week, I'd eaten very little during the day both because it hurt too much to chew and because the pain kept my appetite down. But during the evenings at home, I managed to find enough soft foods, which typically meant ice cream and the like, to blow it. Then yesterday I got my tooth fixed and I kind of went crazy for lunch (a Hardee's Big Bag lunch) on my way to work. Dinner wasn't bad, but I wound up having some snacks afterward that I really didn't need.

So on the one hand, yea disappointing that I didn't lose anything. On the other hand, considering how badly I ate in the evenings, at least I didn't gain anything. So the first week is a mulligan.

Week 1: 251.8

I'll do better this coming week.

The tooth got fixed yesterday, at least temporarily. I go back in two weeks for a root canal, but the main part of the pain is gone for now. It hurt like crazy when the novocain wore off because of the poking and drilling and the mild TMJ I have, but a vicadin took care of that pretty quickly. It made the drive home in the surprise snow storm interesting, but I made it alive. My jaw is still a little sore this morning but the tooth itself feels fine.

I took another vicadin last night, along with a strong drink, and slept pretty good, but now my thoughts are muddled and I can't quite get any pep into my writing. I'll try to be more interesting later.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Tooth story, bro.

I'm going to the dentist this morning, finally! I normally hate it, especially if I have to have novacain, but I'm so sick of the pain from my bad tooth I'm actually looking forward to this visit!

Update: You know what I'm finding out? I like vicadin! I may need to have the wife pick me up from work though.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Getting Caught

"I'm sorry."

What else could I say? The wife was looking at me, disbelief and pain in her eyes, and crying. "You were cheating on me?" she asked, incredulously, her voice raw with emotion. It was a rhetorical question, of course. I couldn't very well deny it; she'd seen us lying naked in bed, spooning.

I'd already fucked Julie once and I was just thinking I might be able to go again in a few minutes with a little foreplay when I heard something and looked up. The wife was standing in the door way, and the icy cold dread immediately ran up my spine. Before I could say anything she said "Thanks" in a flat voice that scared me, then turned and ran out of our apartment.

Julie and I got dressed quickly and I walked her out to her car. She said "I knew this was a bad idea, meeting at your place." I almost replied with "Well why the fuck didn't you tell me that?!" but didn't. This wasn't Julie's fault; I was the one cheating, and I did so willingly.

"Yea, sorry I put you in this spot. But look, it was fun but this is over." For some reason I thought it was necessary to spell that out, but it really wasn't. I didn't care much for Julie, but she wasn't dumb.

I left the apartment complex, but as soon as I got on the road towards the wife's work, I saw her car speeding in the opposite direction, heading back home. She saw me and pulled into a parking lot while I u-turned and pulled up beside her. We got out of the car, and now I'm back to the beginning.

"Who was it?" she asked. And here I could have made the next three months or so much simpler for everyone if I'd just been quick enough with a lie. She didn't see enough of Julie to recognize her, so I could have told her anyone. But for some reason, I told her.

"Julie," I said, "one of the girls at work." Of course the wife knew who that was. She'd seen everyone I worked with every Friday night when we'd have pizza waiting for us coming in to count in our sales. The wife came because she liked the atmosphere, and the free pizza. There were only two women in the office, and she would gravitate to the both of them while the guys got rowdy and a little crude.

As I said earlier, I didn't really care much for Julie. She wasn't a very nice person, and though she was pretty and had some nice curves, she wasn't hot enough to make up for her personality shortcomings. Also, she had that fake toughness that some people get when they know the people around them are too civilized to punch her when she really, really deserved it. She'd laugh about how she "told that motherfucker to suck my dick, and he just took it! Pussy!" and seriously believe it was because the guy was afraid of her and not just too worried about going to jail to lay her out. Plus, I hate it when a girl says "suck my dick." It's just so fucking stupid!

So why was I fucking her, and causing all this pain for the wife? Because she let me the night that she and I, along with the boss and another woman from the office, went to Louisville KY. And she told me I was one of the hottest guys at work (in an office with about 20 other guys.) As much as I don't believe it when people tell me things like that, I still eat it up. I wouldn't do it now if I had the chance. If I'm going to cheat on my wife now, the person doesn't have to be great looking, or even good looking, but they have to have a good personality. And feeding my ego helps.

One other thing I sometimes think I missed a chance on was when the wife said "I want to go home!" We were in a public parking lot, and it was cold, so I said "Yes, let's go home and talk." She almost said something else, but then said "okay," and got in her car. I knew at the time that she meant she wanted to go home to her mother and family in Germany, but played it off like I didn't understand it that way. I didn't feel then the way about being married that I do now, but how much better would it have been for both of us if I'd had the foresight to know that my cheating (this was actually the second woman I'd cheated on the wife with in as many years) was a symptom of my wanting out? It would have hurt her, and me, but it would have happened after 5 years of marriage when we were both still relatively young. And it would be 15 years in the past now.

Back at the apartment we talked and cried, I assured her (honestly) that I love her and didn't love Julie, that it was just meaningless sex, and told her I'd do anything for her to forgive me even though I didn't deserve it. Eventually we both had to get to work (though my day was fucked as far as sales were concerned) and she said we'd talk that night.

And we did talk that night. And we drank; oh BOY did we drink! Back then I rarely had more than a beer at a time, but I keep some good gin in the freezer just for those times when I felt like having a small drink. That night we killed what was an almost full liter bottle of Beefeater's. Nowadays that would give me a little buzz, but back then that was enough to fuck me up pretty good. And it fucked the wife up pretty good too, which was what she was looking for.

The one lie I did tell the wife, as she asked me about the affair, was when she asked if Julie had given me a blow-job. I immediately calculated the chances of ever getting head from the wife again at about zero if I told her the truth, so I said "No, she can't stand to do that and refused to." (The truth is, Julie was pretty damned good at giving head, and let me cum in her mouth twice and swallowed! In the four times she and I had gotten together, that was already once more than the wife had managed in five years.) I stand by my decision to tell her that lie, and don't regret it a bit.

When we went to bed, the wife turned her back to me. I was close to her, but not touching, when we fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to pee and when I got back in bed I got a little closer, and put my hand on her hip. She took my hand and placed it on her breast, then turned towards me for a kiss. We made out a while, then she grabbed my dick and pulled me to her. I rolled onto her, then into her, and we made love while we cried. When it was over, we snuggled and went back to sleep without ever having said a word.

I don't know if she came or not, and I don't even remember if I did, but that wasn't really the point. She was marking her territory, as it were, and I was letting her. I remember thinking to myself that I would never hurt her like that again. I justify the later flings (and the ones I hope to have in the future) by saying it won't hurt her as long as she doesn't find out; I'll be more careful and not get caught.

I worked there with Julie another three months before deciding I just don't have what it takes to be in sales. The wife still came by on Friday's for pizza night, and stopped in at other times as well unannounced. I got it, Julie got it, and she knew we got it and didn't care. She could have insisted that I leave the job, and I wouldn't have objected that much as I already knew I would be leaving soon, but she didn't. I had one conversation with Julie about the situation, telling her that the wife was mad but wouldn't cause trouble as long as nothing happened. We agreed to keep conversations professional only from then on, and we stuck to it. Like I said, I didn't really like her that much to begin with, so it wasn't hard to do. 

When I finally left, I think the wife and Julie both sighed in relief.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Weekend Update

Not a bad weekend, all in all. I was off Friday and the niece and I took L some lunch, and I was planning to grill some steaks Friday night for dinner. L was heading back down the road for home, so it would have just been the wife, the niece and I. But the niece decided to go out with some friends, and I was feeling lazy by then, so the wife and I went and had a light dinner at a local chain restaurant. I wanted some lovin', but I was worn out and was fast asleep by 9:30.

Saturday morning the wife and I were getting dressed to start our chores. The niece was up and about, but I was horny and told my wife I wanted to cuddle a bit. We lay down and kissed, then she told me to take my pants off. I'd originally really only wanted to cuddle, but as soon as she said that I was hard! She was wet as well, so I knew she wanted it as much as I did. The niece was walking back and forth in the hallway from her room to the bathroom, which was distracting, but I came in about 5 minutes. It was fun being sneaky and quiet, but I felt bad for the wife because she didn't get to come.

We drove down to visit L for the day, and ended up having some great sushi at our favorite Japanese steak house down there. A long drive back, a few drinks, and again we were both too tired for any playing and were asleep before 10:30.

Sunday morning I made Breakfast Bacon Cups, which turned out wonderfully, and later grilled the steaks (finally!) for dinner. It rained most of the day, but I got a small window for having a cigar and then grilling, so I'd consider it a win.

My mood was mostly up, but there were a few spots here and there where I got aggravated with the wife, the niece, or with L. But I was able to maintain control and not snap at any of them. The wife realized I was mad at one point when I was trying to show her something on her computer and she kept interrupting me. She'd asked me the question in the first place, and it grates on my nerves to try to answer somebody's question and to keep getting interrupted, especially about stuff that's not relevant to the question. So I stopped trying to answer and handed her back her computer, and wouldn't answer any more questions about it. I would have blown up otherwise. She was quiet for a few minutes then said "I'm sorry," and kissed me, and that was that.

Now on to TMI stuff. Seriously, don't read any further because this is gross. I mean it! You only have yourself to blame if you go any further!

Okay, it's not really that gross, but I figured if I oversold it you wouldn't get as mad as if I undersold it. Anyway: I'm dealing with a painful hemorrhoid. I've had the itchy, burning butt hole before, but this is so much worse! I actually have a swollen external one, apparently where a vein filled up with blood. It's uncomfortable to sit for any length of time, and standing only provides some relief before it starts to hurt again. The weather might have been right on the edge of nice enough to ride my motorcycle to work, but forget it!

I'm treating it with a store branded version of Preparation H, but it's not helping much. I'll probably have to see the doctor if the swollen node doesn't go down, but god I hate doing that. One it's money I don't want to spend; two about the only thing he can do is nick the swollen part and drain the blood (gag!); and three it's just downright embarrassing. And I'll probably get stuck with a nurse practitioner, so that means the woman there will be the one gazing at my gnarly butt hole. It's funny how during sex I don't worry about all that, but in a non-sexual situation it just makes me really uncomfortable.

On top of that I have a tooth that started aching really bad yesterday, and this morning it hasn't subsided any. So that's another visit that's going to cost me money, especially if it gets too bad to wait until my scheduled appointment. I'll have to call them this morning because I don't remember when it's supposed to be, but I hope it's really soon.