The highest rated (so far)

July 3, 2008

So, think over your past lovers and rate them out of ten.  The best I’ve had so far was a 9.  And my GOD am I excited about a 10.  Which I will find, if it kills me.

So, I’d been seeing David for quite some time.  He knew I didn’t do anal sex, and was very understanding.  We had a great relationship – we cared for each other a lot (and still do).

We broke up because of scheduling really – we were both students with opposite schedules and then he was busy all weekend which was my only free time.  For the last two months of our relationship, we saw each other once – when we were both in the same part of the city on the way to two different bus stops.

So one night, whilst in bed, I decided I was okay with trying anal sex.  And he was a bottom, so that was better for me.  And OH MY GOD.  I mean, I thought the things he could do with his tongue were incredible, but this guy’s ass – have you ever held a Rabbit?  You know how it moves in ways you wish a human body could?  Well this guy’s ass moved in those ways, and could have taught the Rabbit a few things (if a Rabbit were inverted, that is).

The lowest rated I ever had is a better story though, I think.  So one time, when I was far too young and stupid, I had a house party because my parents were on holiday.  It was a legendary party, everyone there still remembers it and shudders at the thought.  But anyway.

My ex was there, and as we were both really rather drunk, we started making out a lot.  And then ended up on my parents bed.  Obviously, as we were both about 16, neither of us had much of an idea what we were doing.  But let’s just say the CD in the next room is one I’ve never listened to since, and the only reason I knew I’d finished is because he started getting dressed and there was evidence across my lower abdomen (they say how far it goes is no indication of how good it is – that’s UTTER bullshit.  If it’s shit, it drips out, if it’s good, it reaches my nipples at least).

Although, I have had to fake it before, so I suppose that’s not the worst.  That’s just the worst that sticks in my head.  And yes, we can fake it (if you’re sensible and use a condom, there’s no mess to worry about, so you just pull a face, grunt a bit and it’s all done :D)
Oh, but that worst sex story?  It’s improved drastically by the fact that 30 minutes later (after he’d made a run for it), I was lying on the couch and my friend Hannah started licking my fingers and saying they tasted nice.

Me: Four words for you: Jamie.  The.  Finger.  Puppet.
Her: I don’t care, it tastes nice.


More Jim

June 30, 2008

So, last I wrote, Jim wanted to see me again.

So the following Thursday, we go out for dinner.  At like, 5pm.  Not my choice, I must add.  I ended up skipping lunch, because lunch then dinner at 5pm officially makes you a senior citizen.

So we eat, then he’s all: what do you wanna do now?  I’m thinking we should go for a drink or something.  But it’s like, 7pm.  We can’t just…go to a bar at 7pm.  Other people still haven’t even started dinner, we’d be the only ones there.  So we decide to go back to his for a bit while we find out what his friends are doing, then meet them in a bar later.  Only that doesn’t happen.

We end up in bed, and it’s one of the only times in my life I’ve let anyone fuck me.

Did you see that Sex and the City where Carrie gets with the best man?  It was like that.  It was AWFUL.  And I had to finish myself (well, start myself and just keep going).  Afterwards, he looked all proud as he asked: Did I last a long time?

Fuck yes, was what I wanted to say, I thought it would never end.  But instead I just did a coy grin thing that seemed to please him without me having to lie nor tell the truth.  Always the best way.

What’s not the best?  As I was lying there, ankles on his shoulders, he decides to start a nice little conversation.  And I don’t mean dirty talk, I mean an actual conversation:

Jim: So, you really don’t like girls?
Me: No, I really don’t.
Jim: But why not?
Me: Because I just don’t, let’s not talk.
Jim: But…girls are hot.
Me: Not to me.
Jim: Yeah, but you’ve not seen my girlfriend.

Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but not many guys with girlfriends fuck guys they pick up in gay bars.

Turns out, he had a girlfriend who was living abroad for study or something (I’m vague on the details, I didn’t particularly want to hear them), and she was returning in a mere FOUR WEEKS for their MARRIAGE.  That’s right, he said girlfriend, he meant fiancée.

So all of his subsequent texts went unanswered, he got a special ring on my phone so I knew not to pick up, and the two times I bumped into him in public I pretended to have no idea who he was.  Hell, I even once made my next boyfriend pick up the phone just so he got the picture.  Didn’t work though.  He still kept calling until I changed my number.

The inaugural posting

June 21, 2008

So, I’ve thought about starting a blog like this for a while. A blog where, yes, there will be a lot of adult content, but it won’t be a sex-blog as such.

So, I’m in my early twenties, gay, currently unattached (after 12 unsuccessful boyfriends in half as many years; and far too much sex many sexual partners). But unattached, I mean I am seeing someone. Let’s call him Jim. I met Jim on Monday night, on a random night out to a nearby gay bar. We chatted for a bit, then he invited my friend and I to go sit with him and his friend.

My ass had barely touched the chair when he was licking my face and nibbling my ear. I’m not used to having my face licked (I mean, sure, when I was 16, that was a cool thing to do), but the ear was nice. He put his hand on my leg, and told me I was a bottom.

Actually, I’m a top. When I was much younger, I had a very bad experience with anal sex which put me off it for a very long time. It was only very recently that I got back into it, but as a top (almost exclusively). He wouldn’t accept that I was a top (I’ll give you, I’m of average height and quite skinny, and while not overly effeminate, I pay a lot of attention to manners and etiquette which often comes across as queeny). But anyway.

After a while of chatting and lots more beer (another thing I only recently got into), he asked what I was doing after we left the club.

Me: Going home to bed.
Jim: What about me?
Me: I assume you’ll also go home to bed.
Jim: Can I come with you?
Me: My apartment looks like a bomb just hit it, and my sheets have not been washed in far too long, not a fucking chance in hell mate No, you can’t, my roommates and I agreed not to take people home.
Jim: Well, how about you come to mine?
Me: We’ll see.

Fifteen minutes later, and after his attempt to drag me to the toilets with him (I like to maintain at least a little class, which I realise is not demonstrated by previous events, which will be discussed in the future), we all get up to leave. We put my friend in a taxi heading east, where she lives. Now the problem – I live north, and he lives south. What to do?

As you’ve probably worked out, I got in his taxi. We got back to his apartment, where we wasted no time taking our clothes off, and then lying on his bed making out for a good 5-10 minutes. Hands started wandering, and I started to kiss his chest and stomach (both beautiful – this is why we have sex with sporty people), and then went to remove his underwear with my teeth. But before I’d even got to see the goods, he grabbed me and pulled me up to face-level. “I don’t want to. Sleep.”

What. The. Fuck.

So now I’m stuck lying in bed with a raging erection, having gone home with a guy that is way hot, and nothing I can do about it. I considered masturbating (I have masturbated in the same bed as someone else before), but because he had only just fallen asleep, I didn’t know if it was worth the risk. Add to that – what would I do with the mess?

So I decided to give up and go to sleep. But I couldn’t sleep, because I was just too damn horny. Fortunately, after about an hour or two (of hell), he woke up. He rolled over to face me and kissed me hard, his hand diving straight into my underwear. He stroked my hard cock lightly, and moved so that I could reach his better. His cock was beautiful. Only just over five inches long, proportionally thick – my perfect size. My gag reflex is annoyingly strong, but when it’s that size I have absolutely no issues getting the whole thing in my mouth.

“Fuck me.” Woohoo! Two words I loved hearing. He lay back on the bed, pulled me between his now spread legs and said it again. Not wanting to disappoint, I used the cheapest and nastiest of lubes (yes, spit. Remember – we’d been out drinking, a lot. In fact, just before we left the club I had thrown up a little. On my arm. Dead classy), and pressed my cock against his asshole.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as I gently pressed harder, sliding into him slowly. His ass was incredible – he had said he normally tops, which is such a shame, he makes a great bottom. I fucked him slowly, two hours of lying with an erection meaning I was considerably closer than him. My cock sliding in him felt great, and I thrust the entire length of my cock, nearly coming out on more than one occasion. He started to moan, and he was making a great job of making sure I’d need to wear a high collared shirt the next day.

I ran my fingers along the base of his cock, which throbbed with my touch. I knew I was close, so I grabbed his cock and started jerking hard. Suddenly, he bit down on my nipple, and I knew there was nothing else for it.

But you see, I’d been stupid. Too drunk to think it through. No condom. So my drunken logic told me to come outside him. So I did. I’ve never produced so much in all my life. It had been a while, I’ll give you, but by the time I stopped shuddering, his stomach and chest were COVERED in jizz. He grinned at me, and ran his finger down his stomach and licked it, which I love – spunk games always do it for me.

I collapsed onto the bed next to him, and carried on playing with his cock while I recovered my breath. But as I jerked him off, I noticed he was losing his erection. Then I noticed his breathing getting shallower.

Asshole fell asleep while I was jerking him off. Now, I know I’m not that bad. So I blamed the drink.

I got home around 7am, and went to bed for a while. I woke up at lunchtime to a phone call from him, telling me he wanted to see me again. Which I will write about next time.