Racy

I get to the party, walk around the driveway, open the gate. It's a birthday party for a casual friend, but it's at Ben's house. I love going to parties at Ben's place; he has a great pool with a neat conversational setup, but he's also got an interesting yard and he's cool with you fucking wherever as long as you don't screw in the master bedroom. And it draws a crowd with a good cross-section of boyish to bearish, and HOT. I have fun at Ben's parties. I put my bag down, take a hit on the THC vape, and the first friendly face I see, is Lorenzo. He and I go back a ways; Husband and I played with him and his own husband years back, and I've fucked both of them, and they've both fucked both of us... friendly guys. But Lorenzo and I have a spanking connection that the other two will happily just go in the other room and make out and suck dicks while we satisfy our twisted urges. I like to hit him. He likes for me to hit him. It makes us both horny. This post will be scattered with pictures, and a bit of video, of me hitting Lorenzo. I do it every chance I get. Some of these were taken in bars; some in backyards, others on urban sidewalks. It's a fraction of a second, then a couple minutes later once the blood has rushed to the surface of the skin in response to the slap, he pulls his shirt back up or his shorts back down, and I snap the picture. I got his husband to video in slow motion as I spanked his ass at a different pool party... I love how you can see the flesh ripple as I play percussion on his butt. 

So tonight, I have a new toy - a maple hairbrush paddle from WoodRage. I ask if I can give him a smack, and he turns his ass cheek toward me... OH, yeah, I forgot to mention, this was a JOCKSTRAP pool party, so there are naked guys, there are guys in jocks, and there are butt-cheeks galore, EVERYWHERE. So I didn't even have to pull down his suit. I pop him a HARD one on the ass - guys turn their heads at the smack and the yelp - it's a little more than he was expecting, I think. I usually hit him with my hands. I mean, I didn't hide the paddle; I waved it in his face first and ASKED if I could smack him with it, but I can hit harder with a paddle than I can with my palm. And I know he can take it, even if he wasn't expecting it. So, yeah, ba-zinga! It leaves a mark. After he dances around for a little bit, he asks for some proper spankings... more of a drum solo than a cymbal crash... so I lean him up against one of the porch pillars and start hand-spanking his ass cheeks. After maybe a dozen or so ringing slaps, he turns and kneels down and sucks my hard dick while jerking his own for a while. I shove my cock into his throat, gagging him, but in a friendly, good-to-see-you-again sort of way, not aiming for punishment or racing toward orgasm, so much as a kind of sexual bro-hug. It feels good to be in his throat, kind of thing. Then, I ask to put one in MY favorite place - his sweet Dad belly. And... he says yes. The picture on the crapper? Was after he'd gotten home, and he was still horny, and needed to get a picture of the handprint and the hardon. All in all, an ENTIRELY delightful welcome to the party. 

I wander around, hugging and kissing and occasionally playing around a little with various guys; this is a good crowd, and lots of guys I know, but also lots of guys I don't, which is nice. I'm not good if there are NO familiar faces, or at least I'm much less able to relax... but if there's a bunch of guys I know, then strangers feel less intimidating. I run into Gabriel Marco - I always remember him because he has a first name last name thing that sticks in my mind. That, and because I've always thought he was hot. We've flirted before, but we kind of flirted to a standstill like a decade ago, back when neither of us had silver in our beards, and so I see him at parties but we don't go past "Hey, how YOU doin'?" and then go hug other people.

Honestly, I had kind of decided he probably thought I wasn't in his hot dude league, because he's really muscular and handsome and looks like some hot Guido from a New Jersey beach wrapped up in a nice guy. And he made a point several times about being 90% top, and laughed and shook his head when I told him I wanted to talk to that ten percent. It's half a joke - I DO love topping guys who mostly top, partly because I enjoy giving them pleasure they don't get to enjoy as often, because I know about guys who think a top's prostate flips the switch on his manhood and he can't be a hot top anymore. I think this is bullshit, because like a friend of mine said in college (he was quoting some band I can't remember, "It's music, sex, and cookies... it's cookies, music, and sex. And it doesn't matter which order they're in, 'cause I like 'em all the best." I love getting fucked. I love having a bottom suck my cock and massage my prostate - which is a very different experience, mentally, from bottoming. It has to do with who's driving, who's in control of the action, and who's pleasure is the goal... for me. This will become clear later on, but in the experience with Jimmy, I felt like I had been thoroughly serviced, not dominated, DESPITE the actual mechanics of what went on. I'll have to ask him what he thinks about that. I think he'll have an interesting opinion. We're both versatile pleasure-loving horndogs, and I think he thinks about this shit. But anyway. I think Gabriel and I may have gotten to a "two left shoes won't make a fun pair" point, and what I was really GOING for, was enough of a fencing match back and forth, that we could figure out the options. Because me getting fucked... is also an option. Him getting fucked, also an awesome possibility. I can certainly reciprocate with any of this. But you've got to have some back-and-forth to figure out what's happening, and I think I come off too blunt or awkward sometimes, and over-serve that first conversational gambit. I end up coming off as a dom top sometimes, because my attitude pushes forward with "Ug! Me big horny top, you suck my big dick," because I'm open to either the possibility of "Sir, Yes, Sir" followed by several minutes of oral pleasure, or pushing back with "Fuck you, you suck MY dick, me BIGGER horny top!" and then we make out and kind of talk through that emotional wrestling match. I think I'm a better player when I win the toss (i.e. I think I'm a better top than I am a bottom), but I do my damnedest to bring my A game and rock my partner's world from either side. Just sayin, Gabe, if you read this. I'll get yours next time.  

So I started to back away, to move on , but... with the new brain, I just decide that's bullshit, and I start rubbing on his sexy muscular chest, and then nuzzle the salt and pepper of his beard, and tell him I've always found him sexy, and we have a little conversation about how we apparently had each misunderstood that the other had some reason for not playing around, and so we make out and play around, and then decide to go find someplace quiet for a while. We end up in Ben's office. If that furniture could talk... it would definitely need therapy. I show Gabriel things. We make out for a little bit, and then I fuck his throat until he gags hard on my cock. We do this... for a while. I honestly don't time it, and I was rocking slightly with the THC, but I would guess probably fifteen or twenty minutes. It's kind of awesome, actually... I am mostly sitting scooched down in a big old-fashioned armchair, and we talk for a little bit about how sexy he thinks I am, or something nice like that, and then I shove my cock in his throat for a while until he needs a break again. He pulls his head up and we talk about what a muscular stud he is, I stroke the veins in his chest, the ridge of his collarbone, with his throat-slime and my pre-cum drizzling down his face. It is... awesome. After a while, we both need a break and a beverage, so we go back outside. 

DeMarcus is here. He's looking particularly fine - he's got on a jockstrap, of course, his big meaty buttocks bouncing as he walks, and he's got his hair cut in a short mohawk fade, so that it looks like his head is shaped like a wedge in back. I walk over where he's standing and we greet one another; I smack his ass with one good hard ringing slap, and then someone else needs his attention. 

CONTENT WARNING: There's race play with me and DeMarcus. It's fully consensual, agreed-upon, discussed, and checked in during. We're good. But if this bothers you, stop reading this. I won't type racial slurs on my blog, because I find them personally offensive as well as socially reprehensible. This sounds really ironic and like a conflict... but, I abhor interpersonal violence, and I enjoy hitting people. I'm not a violent person, not a scruffy fighter type in real life - pain play and spanking in BDSM is a very ritualized, special thing of its own, and it's something we've agreed between the two of us is right and OK. The thing a lot of guys don't realize, it's SCARY FOR ME TOO. Becoming a person who hurts people, is scary. It's like imagining myself, in a way, as a monster. I don't let that persona fuck with my life... but that pleasure in hurting, in being aggressive and dominant, I think is a response to my own childhood of being bullied and powerless. I can lean into that feeling, allowing that poor scared kid to hurt somebody... AND, at the same time, my self as sacred lover/Father figure is guiding the experience, because I'm hurting the boy in a way that's GOOD FOR THE BOY TOO, because it goes to the scary places, but the Daddy holds him safe the whole time it hurts. It's a weird fucked-up trip, but DAMN it's hot when it works. Anyway - I feel the same way about race play. I hate the idea of myself being racist. I have fought to purge those ingrained cultural norms from growing up in the South, but I know some of it is kind of like the way I feel about being gay - I will never know what it's like to grow up in a not-racist society, in a not-racist family environment (my immediate family was fairly open-minded, but it definitely didn't go past a generation) or in anything like a racially blended school system. It has a pull on me, too. It pushes a button of being something I find reprehensible, something I find repugnant... and it's mixed with a power trip. It's remarkably heady. I have such strongly conflicted feelings about it, it feels like the sides of my chest pull apart sideways some times. And I've had conversations with DeMarcus about this kind of thing, and he's got a lot of similarly conflicted feelings. The fact that he's given me permission to discuss this in my blog, I feel is a deep honor. He's a beautiful young man, and a deeper thinker than you'd believe if you don't look past the beautiful body. 

I'm talking with a small group of guys, and Jerry, the guy everybody is calling Sexy Santa because of his AMAZING body and a STELLAR white beard (and he's handsome as fuck) keeps asking me about the slap. I explain to him, and a couple of other guys standing with us, about how I spank for handprints - cupping but relaxing the hand, striking through the body I'm hitting, and how it feels connected to him for quite some time after, the tingling on my hand echoing the tingling on his ass. Sexy Santa Jerry starts talking about privilege from our being white men, and I ask him if he ever considered his hotness privilege. Because it gets him things, especially in the gay world. It gets him invitations; it gets him cuts in lines, it gets him attention in places where other guys will not get the same attention. He actually pondered it for a while, and we had some good back and forth. I feel like I have a very modest amount of hotness privilege - like I have a big-ish dick, and I have a pretty good beard, and I'm comfortably above-average looking... but I don't feel like anybody's likely to sign me up for print modeling any time soon. It seems ironic, as aggressively as I occasionally behave, but I feel oddly intimidated by a lot of guys, and it's a very literal ACT to walk up confidently and make a pass at a hot guy, and I am constantly AMAZED and delighted that it works as often as it does. I mean, I think I'm hot, and I value my own worth, and I think I'm a skilled and talented sexual partner - I'm not trying to aw-gee-shucks here... but some of these guys I end up having this amazing sex with, I find myself in awe of them, and sometimes it's marveling at sheer muscular athleticism, but sometimes it's somebody's amazing genetic lottery that makes him six-foot-four and blessed with model looks... guys that I would think would turn me down, I win more times than I lose. Don't get me wrong - I get turned down; I get no-thank-you's, I get "Eeww, no." And I smile, and I go away, but more than half the time... they say yes. And that feels really vulnerable and weird to admit, but honestly? I think that a lot of guys just respond to an open confident offer. I KNOW that I know what I'm doing. There's no doubt in my voice; I know that I can deliver an exceptional experience. In a sense, I'm faking the confidence to walk up to some of these smoking hot guys, because I feel like I'm batting out of my league. In another sense, I'm confident in my skills and my abilities, so I'm making a genuine offer which I'm both willing and capable of fulfilling, so it doesn't come off whiney, or wheedling, or creepy, or fake. 

After a while, DeMarcus's friends are done with whatever they needed, and I've moved on from the group I was talking to. I'm standing just at the edge where the pavilion meets the lawn; there are guys milling around in groups everywhere. I call his name, and he comes over to stand in front of me. I hug him, give him a kiss, and then I push down on his shoulders. He resists. He kind of half-collapses against me, but doesn't bend at the knees. I can tell what's going on - there aren't a lot of guys being sexual in plain view, at least yet - I know there are guys getting busy in the bedrooms of the house (and the office, thank you Gabriel) and there's quite a bit of clandestine touchy-feely happening... but I want him to kneel and take my cock in his throat, here in the middle of the party where everybody can watch. I want to display my domination of him, his submission to me, for everyone to see. I want his last shreds of dignity to be part of my prize for the evening. I want him to feel ashamed and insecure, but to trust me. He struggles. He starts to explain. I reach around and smack his ass, and I push down on his shoulders. Eventually, he kneels, and he opens his mouth. 

He's as good as I remember. His control of his gag reflex is absolute; I can hold my cock in his throat, and he just sits like an obedient little brown Buddha, looking up at me with adoring, focused eyes. I have his full attention. I know the trick of waiting until he starts to run out of air, and when that happens, every time, I feel the most delightful fluttering spasm in the back of his throat as the autonomic nervous system starts to panic from lack of air. I do it again and again, idly commenting about it to other men who pass by. He really is a treasure - I can see him being some man's favored body servant, able to provide services that nobody would ever even imagine possible. I fuck lazily into his throat, and then with more vigor; eventually, I can make him gag if I thrust hard enough, and I enjoy doing that a few times. His hair where the mohawk part is thickest pulls up where I grab it, and I tell him how sweet it was of him to grow me a convenient handle so I could hold him by the head and get my cock all the way in where I want it. After a while, friends of mine need my attention, and I let him go hang out with his buddies again. 

Later, I see him in the pool. I go and stand by the side of the pool; there's a ledge running around one edge, so that you can step down into it without getting all the way wet. It's also convenient for a shorter guy to stand on and suck my dick. I call his name, and he comes over. I give him some poppers. I explain, "I'm about to do some really unpleasant things to you... so you'll want to make sure you're thoroughly prepared." He takes a couple extra whiffs. I hold his head and thrust my cock into his mouth, and guys are watching us from around the sides of the pool. I fuck hard, making him gag and retch, watching his tight muscular body arch and tremble. I take some poppers myself, and then give him some more. I hold my cock in his throat until he runs out of oxygen, and then just hold it there as his body spasms and he starts to panic and struggle to pull off. He can't breathe; my dick fills his entire throat, and his nose is smashed against my crotch; I'm holding it there with a double-handed grip that he knows better than to touch. I let him off for a huge deep sucking breath, and then sheathe my cock in him again before he has a chance to replenish his oxygen, and do it again and again. He is SO AMAZING at it. I lean over, and whisper in his ear, "It's like you people were MADE for this." He groans. After a while, I let him up for air, and turn his face to a young twink standing next to me. I say, "Hey, this is my cocksucker" and I gave him a mocking slur of a fake name, "Can he suck your cock?" The twink agrees that sounds like fun, and DeMarcus gets passed around to a couple of guys. I show them how to choke him with their dicks, and how to grasp him firmly by the head to make sure they get to enjoy the deep part of his throat. 

DeMarcus wants me to fuck his pussy. He didn't say "My faggot pussy," but it was close to that. Same number of letters. Either you know... or you don't want to know. He asks if we can go indoors - there are some things that aren't quite as comfortable on full display, and he's been such an exemplary service boy for me all evening, I'm feeling generous. So we go inside. I ask Ben on the way in, "Is there a convenient place where I can fuck this boy?" and he recommends any room on this side of the house except for the master bedroom; we end up in the same office where Gabriel swallowed my cock. I put down a towel, because I have every intention of making him drool. And for probably twenty minutes or so, we play. I beat his beautiful caramel-skinned body in a number of unkind ways. I fuck him in the throat, getting my cock ready, and then eventually I shove it in his ass. I'm not gentle. I make it hurt. I explain that because it's still early, I may not be able to get off yet - but if I do, I will want it to be in his throat. I want him to swallow my seed, to take my cum into his body and make it part of him, to digest my protein and my DNA and incorporate it into who he is. I tell him that that the sad, beautiful, tragic twisted thing about this whole experience... is that no matter how many white dicks he sucks, and no matter how much of the White Man's semen he swallows, he will never not be Black. It's fucked up. 

At one point, I'm talking about gagging, about how much I enjoy the power of a man submitting to me like that, and he is on his knees in front of me; I reach my hand into his throat and just feel around, and he just relaxes his mouth and LETS me. He's got amazing gag reflex control. I hold his throat with three fingers, and the bottom of his jaw with my thumb, and just push his head backward, looking him in the eyes, and he leans back until he falls off balance and catches himself on his hands... it's like a two-person yoga pose, and I feel like I have drawn him like a bow. He looks so fucking beautiful, spread out under me, his whole body under amazing tension, looking at me around the hand in his mouth. His eyes are wide open and totally devoted. I tell him, he looks like a bronze sculpture of some exotic demon, or some djinn from a fairytale - his skin is gleaming smooth and dark, and his entire body is flexed to control his posture and keep from retching. The entire contact between his body and mine, is my hand inside his throat and gripping his chin. My right shin brushes his right hip some... but he is totally hanging from that hand.

And at that moment, as I'm just holding him there, awkwardly off-balance so that he's having to struggle and tremble to keep from falling; he's kind of on his toes with his knees up off the floor, and his fingertips are holding much of his weight... someone opens the door. And I wonder what THAT picture looks like. They shut it again really quick.

Not long after that, someone knocks on the door and says "DeMarcus?" And just like that, he has to go. He bounces out to get dressed and pull his stuff together. He does stop and kneel down, dressed in his shorts and tshirt, to give my cock one last full-throated goodbye before he leaves. 

I wander around. I hang out; I visit. I refill my water bottle, and talk to some people. DeMarcus's abrupt departure has left my cock feeling frustrated, and so I take it out in search of more meat. I manage to catch hold of Jimmy, a guy I know mostly just from these parties - he's compact and stacked, his body elegantly thick in a way that gives him a muscular ass and thick thighs, and makes him easy to throw around, but substantial to fuck. He and I get along. I ask him if he'll suck my cock. He does for a bit by the pool, and then we decide to go indoors. I end up in the office again - I've been in here multiple times tonight - and we start out with him sucking my cock until he's made the Good Drool, and then move to him face-down on the floor. He starts out aiming for doggy, but I grab both his shins and pull his knees out from under him so that he falls flat on his belly. I like this position; it allows me to thrust hard, and the boy can't get away. If they try, it's easy to hold them down. Consensually, of course. 

I love fucking this boy's butt. You know, how when you FIRST put your cock into a guy's hole, the first inch or so feels really tight because of the anal sphincter? He's like that, for the first three or four inches. It's like he's got a long tight tunnel on the open end of his hole. Yes, please, Daddy likes it VERY much. I'll ask him if he's willing to share a picture of his spectacular ass. Anyway, I start gentle, because although I know he's already been playing this evening, he's told me that he's gotten his hole wrecked already a couple of times tonight, and he's not sure how much he can take. Sexy Santa apparently made a special North Pole delivery, as well as two other randy partygoers, so his poop chute is tender. We have a few false starts - he can't take it, but then we relax and try again. I'm persistent. He needs more lube, and then I use my thumb to massage his prostate, getting him warmed up and ready, and enter him once again. I eventually work my way up to being able to pound him pretty relentlessly, shoving my cock full-depth into his hole, wriggling it around in his second hole, holding his face in my hand so that his nose and his mouth are all squished up and he has to wait until I say so before he can breathe... we have a good, hard fuck. 

It becomes obvious that I'm not going to get off, before he wears out. He asks for a time out, and then needs to tap out of further fucking. I ask him if I can put it in his throat some more, and we do some of that, and he fingers my ass, massaging my prostate. I take over jerking my dick, and he works in more of his fingers until he's very nearly fisting me. I breathe hard and fast, and I cum in a shower of tiny droplets, spraying upward and falling down like sticky rain. He licks up a few of them, doodling with others with his finger on my belly, drawing random designs. We lie together for a bit, talking about how much we enjoy these encounters, and playtimes we've had in the past. When we've cooled off, we go back outside and get in the pool. 

I am hanging out in the pool, talking with Jimmy and Ben and several other guys, when Del wanders over. I know him from years ago, when my Husband and I kind of molested him at the Eagle, before we all got to play around at pool parties. He's a hot guy, silver hair with a beard, lean muscular body and a huge dick. We talk some about the things I've been learning, the things that have been fascinating me, and I offer to demonstrate for him. I have him sit up on the edge of the pool, and I go to town on his big dick. He's had a little too much libation at the party to ever get as erect as he can (I've ridden that thing once; it's a beautiful monster) but I was able to swallow it, milk it with my throat, gag up slime, hold it down my throat for a while... it was fun. It was kind of like the playing with Lorenzo - more sociable than sexual, just for the pleasure of playing with him, and for showing off my skills. I like that about these parties; it's OK to just have fun, there's not always an expectation of getting off. 

Finally, I wound down hanging out in the pool with a small cluster of guys, watching them drink shots and make faces ,just enjoying the breeze and the relatively not-quite-as-baked-as-usual summer night air. It was... an AWESOME night.