Expanding Whorizons

Sex involves a certain amount of vulnerability.  In my life, I’ve been vulnerable—and clearly made poor choices with whom.  The result is that it’s not easy for me to be open to sex, or to be open with people.  One of the things I’ve chosen to do with my life is approach sex, and vulnerability, and try and gain back some of what I think I’ve lost. I rarely feel visible, in uncontrolled settings.  Take that for what you will.  In light of that, over the years, a couple of ways to deal: 1)  self-medicate so that I feel less inhibited 2)  pay for sex The former rarely has worked out well.  Though it has afforded me a handful of interesting stories to share.  I’ve shared them, though admittedly left out the ‘buyer’s remorse’ that typically hits the next day.  Sure, there was the time in NYC during gay pride when I knelt before two men and took care of their dicks.  Sure, there was the pair that I sucked off in a back alley in Ch...

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I remember, vividly, the feel of a black shirt under my hands.  I remember how the material felt as I slid my palms across it, across his chest.  Reverently, my fingers sought the buttons.  Nervous, I fumbled.  He was patient. Starting at his chest, at my hands, my peripheral vision could just make out the gentle smile on his face.  A curl of lip, more pronounced for the dark swath of goatee.  He didn’t help me.  This was my task.  This was my honor.  One by one, I undid the buttons constraining his chest.  Bit by bit, the cloth receded and I could see the skin of him, dusted with hair.  Once I’d unbuttoned all, I stood there – unsure if I should reach for his pants, unsure if I should take it upon myself.  Again, he read my thoughts, “Go ahead, finish with the shirt.” I reached, hands slightly trembling, to free the shirt tails from his pants.  To do so, I reached around him.  I drew so close to his chest tha...

Something remarkable happens to me, when i let down my guard.  It doesn’t happen often, but when it does… There i knelt, naked but for the collar and short leash He had placed on me.   i’d been bathing His boot with my tongue.  i’d been so intent on my task that i hadn’t noticed Him lean over me.  Gently, His hand touched my head, stroking my hair. “Good boy.” i felt so many things when He said that.  Pleased, grateful, perhaps a bit proud. “Take off my boots.” i sat back, on my haunches, head bowed, focused on untying His left boot.  Once untied, i gently lifted His leg until i could pull the boot off.  Once it was in my hand, i risked looking up at Him.  He was watching me, knowing what it was i wanted.  A small smile played on His lips, and He nodded – ever so slightly.  i slowly drew His boot to my nose, inhaling once, twice.  my chest felt full of His scent.  Before i could get too distracted, i placed His b...

We all respond differently to touch.  For me, touch has always been negotiated.  I know that may sound strange.  Touch has never been entirely safe – I won’t bore you with the reasons.  Suffice it to say, home never felt safe, and boundaries were never really respected.  Because I’ve always been a bit skittish about touch—whether touching , or being touched by, someone else—I’ve found it surprising that I’m drawn to massage.   Perhaps it’s because it is inherently a healthy, safe structure in which touch is healthy, respectful, helpful and therapeutic.  Sounds good, doesn’t it?  Ok, maybe it’s just because I know what the rules are and that gives me a false sense of safety. In any event, the recent addition of a couple of new sites dedicated to eroticizing massage has made for some interesting evenings.  Staunch supporter of porn, as I am, I find msyelf replaying the set up to scenes almost more often than the sexiness.  Something...

Standing in front of me, naked, all I could think was ‘WOW!’ Gorgeous, head to toe.  Muscles, solid, rock hard.  Amazing, what his body felt like under my hands, my finger tips.  The room was quiet, everything we said between us was quiet, hushed. We’d started kissing, gently, lips touching lips.  Tentatively lips parted, tongues intertwined.  He tasted good.  Soft lips, light dusting of beard, smooth skin.  I enfolded him in my arms, feeling the hard muscles of his back with my hands, caressing his skin, amazed at the muscles of his ass.  Lips went to his neck, I breathed in the scent of him.  I’d watched him strip, the room fully lit, trying to take it all in.  Now that he was naked, he padded over the the bed – I watched his muscles play under his skin, felt how hard my dick was.  I’d stripped down as well, and as he sat – back against the pillows, legs spread – I moved to join him.  I slid my arms through the spaces u...

Worshipping takes on many forms, tactile, oral, and other.  It was my privilege to start while He was still dressed.  He lead me from the living room to a large bedroom.  At the end of a king sized bed sat a bench – ordinary enough in appearance, though leather clad.  The leather about my neck now attached to a short expanse of chain, more a lead than a leash.  The links were small, and light.  The leash, and the collar, both more symbol than practical restraint.  i am naked, He is fully clothed. “Where shall we begin?” His voice, again low, rumbles through his chest.  It’s not, I realize, a rhetorical question.  Then it dawns on me, what good is worship that is driven by commands?  He wants, i hope, for me to enjoy his body as i hope, breathlessly, that he will take and enjoy mine.  “May i undress You, Sir?” my voice trembles slightly, afraid to misinterpret what is going on.  He hears that tremble, places a hand on my nec...