Expanding Whorizons

It is impossible not to want you when I see you.  Impossible not to be moved to want to touch you, stroke you skin, kiss your lips, hold you in my arms.  I revel in the way you feel, and smell, and taste.  Some of my fondest memories are kneeling at your feet, head cradled in your lap while I inhale your scent.  I can feel the heat of you, pressed against my cheek while you stroke my hair.  Slowly, I start to stroke my cheek against the growing hardness I find there.  Heat, hardness… It’s a tease, a taste of things to come.  Slowly, still on my knees, I move until I’m in front of you, hands on both of your thighs.  Looking up, I see your face, your eyes half closed slits as you watch me.  It’s not a sleepy look, but one of intensity.  You watch my every move.  With our eyes locked on each other, I slide closer, hands moving until they cup the hardness that’s grown – hardness that speaks to me of how much you enjoy this, and how mu...

Without really understanding why, I stopped in at a local bar that I rarely frequented these days.  I could say I was thirsty, but who ‘really’ goes to a bar just to slake their thirst?  I suppose, if you expand your definition of thirst, it might be closer to the truth.  Hadn’t been out in what felt like years, though really was only a couple of months.  Bar’s in the city, I’m in the ‘burbs.  It tends to cater to a clientele affecting an intentionally hyper-masculine demeanor.  What can I say, the smell of leather can be an heady scent. Up front, I will admit that I dabble more than embrace the leather lifestyle.  I attribute it to the ‘moth/flame’ mentality – the intensity of leather sex is incredibly sexy to me.  I’m both titillated and terrified.  That smell – of warm leather – took me back to an experience I had years ago.  Let me be clear here – I don’t not judge those into leather, in a way I envy them that they've found a pla...

It happened like so many other stories.  I’d been a fan of his work for a while.   We met at a weekend event and I finally got up enough nerve to chat with him in the elevator.  Just a couple of words, a brief acknowledgment that I knew who he was.  I didn’t want to intrude.  Later that evening, another quick chat, a photo.  Cuter in person than I imagined he’d be.  Throughout the weekend, I tried to keep track – surreptitiously – of where he might be.  The fact that we were at the same events, not really a surprise – it was a well planned out weekend for attendees.  I tried not to be that ‘hanger on’ that seems to be prevalent at events like this.  The sycophant that can’t help but get on so many people’s nerves.  Last day of the weekend, a charity auction.  An early auction, won, an intriguing opportunity – fueled by a few too many beers – to show how much I enjoyed his work.  “How’s your weekend been?” “I’ve be...

I love that feeling when I’ve just gotten a haircut, the way my hair bristles when I stroke my hand up the back of my head. So soft to the touch. I imagine it’s your hand. I imagine you’re touching me with affection. I imagine the contented feelings it would bring. I imagine leaning into you, while you gently stroke my hair. Sex has always been about approval to me. Undoubtedly, a therapist might have something to say about that. Sex is never just about my pleasure – hell, if I wanted to feel good, I know how to do that. For me sex is as much, no more, about the pleasure I can bring someone else. Yes, it’s about approval, but it’s also gaining a sense of pleasure, and accomplishment, in having your partner enjoy what you’re doing. Sex is not just about the dick, the cock, the junk. It’s about the touch, the caress, the kiss. Hard to be a died-in-the-wool sensualist and not have it come across as romantic. Sex has also always been about losing myself in the moment. That would be...

It dawned on me last evening just how much I’d been shirking my responsibilities both in terms of my blog, and the exploration that premeditated it. To that end I submit the following. Clearly it had been a while since I’d opened the toy box. I was a bit concerned – not sure why. Perhaps I had this thought that, without practice, I’d be starting from scratch – so to speak. I admit that the experience was a bit challenging. I spent the day out with a friend, first wandering the shopping district of a small town near us, then wandering the campus of my alma mater. Not sure what really drove me to visit my college, other than proximity. It was a beautiful albeit hot day. I feel like I got a good workout. I dropped my friend off at his place, and decided that I needed to take some time for me. Not sure where my head has been, but it’s not been in an experimental or a sexual mood. I tried to put that behind me, and opened the drawer in which I’ve taken to keeping my toys. I chose a ...

“That’s good, Dad.  You’ve got me wet, and loose.  It’s time.” I realize that, what little talking we’ve done has been in hushed tones.  Almost like we’re afraid to break whatever spell we’re under.  Slowly, I move away from you.  Dismounting, if you will.  I stand by the side of the bed, looking at you.  You look vulnerable, and turned on.  I reach forward and move your briefs down.  You don’t hesitate this time to lift up so I can remove them entirely.  I see you move your legs apart, just slightly.  I know it’s to give you better leverage.  I’m naked, and hard, and precum is drooling from my dick.  I turn, and you’re looking at me just like I had been looking at you.  You look… hungry. I slowly crawl up on the bed, mounting you.  I can feel your hard, wet dick against my ass cheek.  I lean forward a little, reaching behind me to place the tip of your dick against my ass hole.  I feel you start to...

There was something really exciting about straddling you, looking at your hands tied above your head.  I knew that, if you had wanted to get away, you could.  Your being complicit in the situation made it a real turn on.  I leaned forward, lips nearly touching yours, “you look so hot like that, Dad.” You didn’t answer, but moved forward to kiss me.  I moved back, just out of your reach.  I smiled.  It was a naughty smile.  I slid backwards, down your body, until I was kneeling over you, hands at your waist.  I reached for your belt, slowly.  I was anticipating this experience now.  I unbuckled your belt, and reached for the button of your jeans, taking a moment to brush the back of my hand against your hardon.  I loved knowing that was for me.  I loved knowing that you were turned on by me.  I unbutton your jeans, then slowly pull down the zipper of your fly with my right hand, while my left strokes the swell of your b...