Friday 29 June 2007

Tom Farrell aka Tom Sawyer (oh yeah!)


Hey guys! Why has everyone been keeping Tom Farrell a secret from me?


The super model type with a real super cock! Great combo.

He's another one of those guys your wanna take home to meet the family (clothed, I guess?).


And then into your parents' bed for really unbelievably hot sex (unclothed, I guess!).

Tho not while the folks are in the room of course. Well ... ? Unless there is absolutely no other option. Or your parents are rather unlike mine. Or you are rather unlike me!!!



The photos DO indicate the fucking may not be of the filthiest kind ... but I reckon it'd be good enough. And maybe he's much more adventurous than the 300 count Egyptian cotton sheets photo-shoot suggests.

And, think about it, that big thick hot dick might inspire you to inspire him to more gritty stuff.

But then again, if it's something more vanilla you're after ... perhaps this is the jackpot!
'Emerson' Story - An Update

Hey guys. Just to let anyone interested know that I've worked a bit on my 'Emerson' piece of a few weeks back - just use the Blogger search function to bring it up.

Some minor changes throughout - the voice of 'Emerson' has been made more distinctive to character and more consistent - 'friends' should've been 'mates', 'thanks' 'ta', 'think' 'reckon' and so on. And I've tried to catch him more physically - bring him more into focus from that angle.

But the main thing is that the story's been extended. I'd run out of creative steam by the time I originally got to the end and it kinda fizzed out cos of that. So there's more steamy stuff - all just to reveal character of course!

Hope you enjoy!

Thursday 28 June 2007

Duncan - The Blocky Guy

Duncan is a type of guy I don’t usually post. But when I think about it honestly, he’s a type I reckon has THE real erotic charge.

He’s not conventionally handsome or good-looking. But usually muscular. And stocky. And has big big sex potency. He probably drinks beer in a pub on a Saturday night. Essentially straight - Ok guys, I hear you – ‘politically incorrect!’ - but gimme a break. All this is the ‘blocky’ bit.

He’s got so much grunt even 100% tops wanna be fucked by him. The rougher the better. You know, tossed on the floor. Rolled over. Lubed up. And jackhammer rooted till YOU cum. Blocky guys don’t cum!

He may condescend to jerk himself off after.







But he'll mostly ignore you. Until you beg to be fucked again. In a whimpering an unmanly fashion that you never thought yourself capable of!


Now, if you're quick enough, you’ll glimpse his power-packed furry
muscle buns in those few seconds he’s not facing you! No soap in the shower routine for him.


So, guys, do you approve of this new (if momentary) blocky direction?

Monday 25 June 2007

Some Heroic Moments at Wee Jasper, Sydney - And Elsewhere

Some not-so-long-ago heroic moments abseiling with a bunch of friends at Wee Jasper, outside Sydney. When I realized I had (a bit) more courage than I imagined.


Total adrenalin blast when I got to the bottom of the cliff face. Though, strangely enough, I didn't have the urge to rush back up to the top and do it again!


Some similarly heroic moments from a couple of Latin guys, beginning with some half-hearted and gratuitous preliminary kissing - actually, often the main event for me:

Followed by some more committed sucking and cumming:






Love the way the guy's hole is open in two and four! Makes you so wanna just slip ya cock in!


And then some good old-fashioned down-to-earth fucking and cumming:





And finally, for the sexually more advanced, some real tasty-looking rimming:





So ... have you been a bit /very heroic lately? How?

By the way, these two blokes have that quality of almost being able to be physically sensed. Reckon the flavor would be musky, acrid and sweaty. Hot!

A Moment of Levity - Wisdom and Aging

A senior citizen drove his brand new BMW Z3 convertible out of the Car sales room.

Taking off down the motorway, he floored it to 90 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left. "Amazing!" he thought as he flew down the fast lane, enjoying pushing the pedal to the metal even more.

Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw a police car behind him, blue lights flashing and siren blaring.

"I can get away from him - no problem!" thought the elderly nutcase as he floored it to 110mph, then 120, then 130mph. Suddenly, he thought, "What on earth am I doing? I'm too old for this nonsense!" So he pulledover to the side of the road and waited for the police car to catch up with him.

Pulling in behind him, the police officer walked up to the driver's side of the BMW, looked at his watch and said, "Sir, my shift ends in 10 minutes. Today is Friday and I'm taking off for the weekend. If you can give me a reason why you were speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go." The man, looked very seriously at the policeman, and replied,

"Years ago, my boyfriend ran off with a policeman. I thought you were bringing him back."

"Have a good day, Sir," said the policeman.

Sunday 10 June 2007

'Construction' Workers


Construction workers (as if this guy is one!) don't usually get me in. Much.

But this guy does - big time:





Think it's the sweat bod. And the dark hairiness.






In fact I know damn well it's that!

Friday 8 June 2007

John Raymond H

He always seemed tense and about to explode. Aggressive in the way he approached all things. But, somewhat contrarily, agitated and fidgety. Extraordinarily intelligent and single-minded. An iconoclast. Self-contained. And driven. And his loyalty and fearlessness were legendary. A mass of unresolved contradictions that if harmonized might have made him less. You were drawn and repelled, at once.

John Raymond was department head. At 32.

He was stimulating and usually exciting to work with. A perfectionist. Who was impossible to please. Everyone tried but kept their distance. His temper was legendary - when things weren’t going well.

The first time I really had anything to do with this strangely complex and contradictory guy was a couple of years ago in what has become jokingly known in the department as ‘The Great Ideological Struggle’.

Remnants of the public service left (with John as a youthful and next generation starter) were fighting the proposal of a particularly draconian redundancy package in my own section. And it had come down to a round-the-table meeting of department and section heads. Finishing with a couple of particularly acerbic attacks directed at our department head. This led me to a rather theatrically-explosive defence, which was not unenjoyable!

We went back to my section in more than a mild state of euphoria. John put himself in my chair, kicked off his shoes, and got his white-socked feet up on the desk. I could smell their freshly-laundered cotton and the faint scent of sweat. He pulled up his trouser legs, one at a time, revealing heavy muscular calves, thick with wiry blond hair.

My seemingly imperceptible reaction provoked ‘They’re ok?’

‘Fine. Good.’

‘I beg your pardon!’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘Oh. Missed that one. … So you with anyone at the moment?’ He was razor-sharp on the uptake.

‘No, you?’ Almost as a retort – he’d been that unsettling.

‘Was with someone for a couple of years but then she wanted kids. And I wasn’t ready.’

A pause, no reciprocity. Did I give away too much? Yep.

‘So you’re interested in a bloke now’

‘Kinda.’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘He’s not really available.’

‘With somebody else?’

‘Nope’

‘Straight!’

‘Yeah’

‘Oh Christ. … Sorry mate’

‘No problem. So if you ever need to get out of going to hell by doing some really ugly purgatory-typed penance … .’

He roared with laughter. The risk had paid off.

‘At least we can be mates’ – signaling the empathy.

Gradually we began to lunch. And blocky talk became something quieter and more serious. We read similar things. And traveled a lot and in the same way. Liked similar kinds of people. So lots of similarities but not too many. The connection developed.

Social things followed. Which was exhilarating for me. But confusing too as I began to knowingly drift into imaging more. At parties, he’d have his arm round my shoulder, particularly after a few drinks. … Apart from anything else, I think he probably liked to confuse people. Or just jerk them round a bit.

We’d been out at a pub. Beer had been the enemy. I remember the warmth of his big firm muscular body lolling against me. His warm breath occasionally on my neck.

He couldn’t drive. As usual. But this time I took him back to my place. And into the spare room. He rolled back onto the bed, as if in slow motion. I couldn’t leave. Just stood there watching him breathing … slowly in and out.

Then after a few minutes ‘Oh fuck I’m horny’. He put an arm over his eyes. ‘I could do some of that ugly penance now if ya like. It’d be ok’.

I weighed everything up.

And nervously unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. He lifted his hips for me to get his jeans down. And his arms up, for his tee-shirt over his head.

A thick short cock, with a fat throbbing vein down the left side. He was dribbling pre-cum, almost continuously. The taste got me achingly rock hard. And the strong odour of jocks sweat made me crazy to cum. Which made me take his dick more down my throat - to get his fleshy balls right up against my face. The smell of his bush overwhelmed my senses.

After a few seconds, he blew. And blew. And blew. With a final long slow deep groan. And then he seemed to drift off to sleep.

I slowly striped him. Smelling his feet as I got his socks off. And momentarily sucking his fleshy muscular toes.

And then, inspired by his own determined character, I quickly undressed and slide between the sheets behind him. And wrapped myself round his body. But no reaction. I stroked his thick silky blond hair, and down his broad neck. And felt over his full warm furry pecs and arms. The thick wiry hair of his legs almost grazing my skin as I rubbed my thighs against his. My balls tightened and I was squirting cum over his hairy buns. He laughed quietly, more to himself. Not asleep!

After half an hour, he rolled around, turned me over onto my stomach and got on top. He opened my legs with his knee and wiggled his butt around as he forced his cock into my crack. And then into my hole. All the time pre-cumming ‘lube’ and making it easy to work his dick in.

‘Mmmmm’ as the rhythmic thrusting got faster and faster. ‘Aaaaahhhhh’ as he unloaded.

John was extraordinarily beautiful as well as handsome. In that Leonardoesque way. Always groomed to perfection. Usually in navy blue suits that spiked up his blond hair and golden honey-coloured complexion. In a way that seemed suspiciously calculated. But still the prefect foil for his blocky character.

Then he stayed over a couple of times. And it became more the norm.

‘What do you reckon’s happening about us mate?’

‘Penance seems to be becoming something else.’

‘Yep’

And he’s still my partner.

Thursday 7 June 2007

Vincent – Reprising a Big Bad Banksia Man

Somehow I feel Vincent is not a vanilla kinda guy – more your rough trade type. And could be more active than passive – what do you reckon?! Seems well equipped for that job:




Working the wall in a slightly gentler mood:

Apologies for re-posting this last photo:

Any guesses why I did?

If you can't - go to the bottom of the class!
Not-so-Lilliputian Paraders at ‘Reyna Elena’, Flores de Mayo

The Reigning Reyna Elena

And every year, there are also lots of Reyna Elena (Queen Elena) parades within the Flores de Mayo celebrations … for not-so-Lilliputian persons.


Gays in the Philippines are seen as part of the community rather than apart from it. Which is not to say that gays are necessarily equal here. But queans often have certain specific recognized roles in the social structure. For example, as (often unpaid) workers within political campaigns, and within the Church.

There has recently been an election of the second and third tiers of government – that is, the congress and local councils and their mayors. Patterned after the US system. And the nexus between the gay community and politics was evidenced in the Elena Parade - the escorts of the ‘Beauties’ being new council members. The relationship is reciprocal – gays gain social recognition and councilors involve themselves with the Gay Community for political support.

But this is all the outsiders’ point of view! And, as a local friend rightly tells me, I have missed the essence or spirit of Reyna Elena completely. So I’ll try to capture something of his (positive) criticism. And the local gay point of view on the event.

To be the Elena is the dream of every gay and no-so-gay guy in a provincial community. A dream because it is a great honour to be chosen by your peers – by the old matriarchs, by past Elenas (who on the night endlessly re-live their moment/s of glory), by your peers – the couturiers, make-up artists, and in fact by all the members of gay society. It is an acknowledgment of your popularity and worth, your sexual appeal, your intelligence, and your good looks. Beauty is not enough - you also need grunt in the community. It’s like being Prom Queen – everyone wants to be The Chosen One. It might be seem old-fashioned but it is also a very affirmative image for gays – proud, defiant, putting it out there, not caring what anyone thinks and exhilarating in a distinctive gay identity. And the extraordinary exhilaration for the Reyna of being the focus of the provincial gay calendar!

Preparing for the Pre-Parade Photo-Op:



‘And I too young to do drag?’:

‘No way!’

The Photo Op:



Momentary (but understandable) losses of concentration:


Composure re-gained:

A moments’ relaxation before big parading:

Some repair work:

‘That’s better!’:

Some would-be Elenas:




Final group photo before parading:


On parade with escorts:





‘We lost our escorts!’

The Reyna parading:

‘I’m much prettied - I should’ve been Reyna Elena!’

‘No, it should’ve been me!’

The parade moves on … :

And now we all have to wait for another three years ... for the next parade. Like the Olympics.