Going Deeper (inside strange men)

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This is a little mortifying - I remember writing up a post about this, and I mentioned it in a relevant online community, replying  to a post about cheese - and then when I went to find it, there's no post. Oops.  It was a series of tweets. Like this one . Or  this one.  Or  this one. And maybe  this one.  It's a theme I enjoy. Churning up frothy crema.  It's gotten to the point where the blog has over seventy posts - many of them quite long - and I forget which bit of writing went where. A lot of the time, something like this gets folded into a long post, a rambling aside that supports some bit of action. If there's something that intrigues me enough to want to mention it, but if it doesn't tie in to a particular long evening of fuckery, sometimes they get a tweet instead. And, when I've made a video clip and written out a short paragraph, in my mind it's a "blog post" - but no, not always.  So - a quick post about smegma. I wasn't circumcised

  Holy fuck, y'all, this one got long. I may have to slice it in the middle and make it two. But... it's a whole thing, in my head, and I like most of it.  If you're the guy behind the corner of the porch, I'm just spacing out - get in touch, and maybe help me pull the rest of that memory out. It's tantalizing.  Adrian is having a birthday pool party. I thought that Husband and I would be able to attend this one together, but he's still feeling really cautious about his new tattoo, so he decides to stay home for this one. Adrian and his husband have an awesome house and a beautiful backyard pool, and the crowd in the invite list is a mix of lots of guys I know, so I'm excited to attend. I've been to nice (i.e., fully-clothed, behave-yourself,  have you met the Baroness? Do try the gravlax!) parties at their house, but I've only heard tell of the wilder ones they have during pool season. It... doesn't disappoint. As is so often the case with pool