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Mostly, I try to stick with guys my age or older. Just a personal thing. I realize I'm not the adonis a lot of guys are looking for, and most of the older gents, like 38+, just want to have a good time, get along with someone.

My wonderful wife tends to have a thing for younger guys, and more power to her. We do the occasional 3way, and I've brought it up in the past on here, but it's not usually anything to write home about. Most of them are a bit weirded out by me getting involved with them, so it's rare that one will be a return trip...or even a stay til they're done trip.

I'd started up a conversation with the kid next to me on the plane back from South Dakota, on my way home to (you can see it in my profile) Georgia. I was happy to get out of the lousy weather and into other lousy weather, but less freezing my balls off.

He was 19, a student at Mercer. We met at the gate for the connecting flight in Denver and started up a chat. I have no gaydar at all, so I just figured we were shooting the breeze. He introduced himself as "Oscar", was about 5'4", maybe 110 lbs, soaking wet. He had close-cropped brown hair, brown eyes and a constant smile.

It was a happy coincidence that we were in the same row, and I asked the young lady between us if she'd like the window seat, so we could continue bullshitting.

When the question came up about where he was over the Holiday, he answered, "Reno", when I asked what for, he said, "Breaking up with my boyfriend, apparently."

He went on to describe a horror story of a closeted kid that he'd accidentally outed..He was supposed to play, "The friend", but hadn't gotten the memo. The other kid's Mormon parents had six different degrees of shit to throw on the wall about it.

"His loss, I'm awesome." He said.

When we landed in Atlanta, in the rain, I asked how he was getting back to Macon. He mentioned he'd wait for one of the shuttles.

"My car is parked in multi-day...I'll give you a ride, no problem." It would be a little bit of a problem, but I was trying to be the nice guy. Not the pervy nice guy, just the nice guy. You CAN do that, I do it all the time.

He accepted, and off we went. He had more than a little appreciation for my car, a '15 Challenger R/T+...his exact words, "This thing must be a constant erection."

It is.

We headed down I-75. We continued chatting, and, while I'd kept it to myself on the plane, I felt I could let it slide, when he commented about how he just could never get into being with a woman, I said, "Well, I've been bi since I was 13, so I can relate to how it would be with a guy."

He looked at me with what appeared to be shock. "No way. I mean, you come across as an open kinda guy, but no way do you read "Queer".

I related to him the events of visiting my friend, his SO and a friend of theirs. He kept saying, "seriously?" in an incredulous tone.

I exited at the Mercer ramp (163? I think?) and started towards campus, taking his instructions to his place.

When we got to the dorm, I'd planned on just letting him out at the door. He said, "Go ahead and park, come on up. Least I owe you is a soda." Except he had a look in his eye....

It took maybe 30 seconds of the door being shut on his dorm room before he had his clothes completely off and was on his knees in front of me. He had that way that most younger guys do, a lot of enthusiasm, not a lot of technique...which is fine.

I was sitting back on his computer chair, my pants open but not off as he knelt between my outstretched legs. He worked me, kind of more slobbery than I usually get, and pumped what small amount of my cock was still not in his mouth. More often than not, though, he completely swallowed my 5.5".

One of the topics we'd gone over was how I usually bottomed because of my size and the fact that I don't cum from oral. He'd said he was much the same way. I wasn't sure if he'd forgotten that, or if he was just in the mood for dick, because he worked on me like no tomorrow. 30 seconds to a minute at a crack he'd spend mouthing me, bouncing up and down at breakneck speeds. Then, he'd pop off, jack me with the increasingly large amount of spit he'd produce and go down to my balls, taking each one in his mouth in turn, but not sucking. Just rolling them around, one by one.

In terms of blowjobs, I've had better. He was awesome, don't get me wrong (heaven forbid he get on here and find me...I'd hate to have him see bad criticism...nah, fuck it...I'll be a practice dummy anytime), but I wasn't going to cum.

I mentioned as much to him. He quickly turned around, just long enough for me to catch a glimpse of his healthy, completely bald prick. He went to his dresser, and I instead got the view of his tight, athletic little ass.

He came back, and I could see his great cock. A bit under 7" I'd say, just about average width. His balls looked tiny in the slight cool air of the room, as they should be, but nowhere down below did he have any hair at all...not even stubble.

Later, he would tell me, "Got it lasered off. Tired of shaving."

From his right hand, he pulled a condom out of an Altoids tin, tore the cover open and rolled it onto me. He produced a small...tiny...vial of some lube out of the same tin and gratuitously slathered what was left inside onto me.

Then he went back to his bed and laid down, bringing his legs up, "Just like you were on the chaise, at your friend's house? The other night? Sound fun?"

I didn't answer. I just took off my shirt, shucked off my pants and maneuvered myself to his little pink opening.

With me, you kind of have to be slow. I snap shut after about no more than a few hours. I learned that he wasn't the same way as I started slowly pressing in and out, building up a 'spreading open' tempo. He just grabbed my ass and pulled.

I was buried in him in less than the time it took to type this sentence.

He began to rock, back and forth on the bed. I looked down to see my shaft go in and out of his tight little hole, the roll of the condom backing down onto me as it was pushed down. It would vanish for a second under his balls as he'd roll completely down, then come back as he cleared it again.

I had to watch with a scientific detachment while he did it, thinking about how the curvature of my dick was hitting his prostate...I could feel it on my head as he'd roll himself away from me, and he'd shudder from it, a thick line of clear fluid appearing, then rolling down to hit his stomach, then rolling down to his side. I needed to watch it like this, or I'd already start cumming.

He may not be the best at oral, but he's awesome at taking cock.

The spectacle was almost pushing me over the edge though, and before I could comment that it was about time, I felt his prostate swell, and his tight sack get tighter.

A large glob of cum flew out of him, and I mean FLEW. It hit the bedspread about 3" to the right of his head. The next one hit his face, just underneath his right eye. He quickly grabbed himself and pointed downward, towards his chest as the next half-dozen spurts painted his hairless torso.

I kept going, enjoying the pulsating motions of his orgasm on the head of my dick. I thought I could keep going now, for a few more minutes. That was, until I saw him take his finger, wipe the semen from his cheek and stick it in his mouth, licking it all off.

That pushed me over the edge. Before I could help myself, I jammed into him once, twice, a third time. I leaned forward over him and brought my face down to his, my mouth on his, hard. I could taste the remnants of jizz on his tongue, and wanted more. I pulled back up a bit, realizing I'd smeared what was on his chest on the hair of my own. I reached down with my own finger, place it in the puddle above his cock head.

SLAM, in I went again, the pulsing in my perineum was there, and I pulled out once more, taking the finger out of the puddle and putting it in my mouth.

SLAM, I buried myself and felt my tight balls on the upper part of his crack. The taste of his cum was clean, salty, and the little bit I'd grabbed coated my tongue. The first jet of my cum flew out of my head into the bag as I pulled out again.

SLAM, I collapsed forward onto him, my mouth finding his again, his tongue going in as I gasped, my cock gouting semen into the latex. Filling it. Creating a puddle of my own inside.

I'm not sure how long I came. I hadn't topped in forever, and it was glorious. Our mouths fought on each other for only a few minutes before I started to feel the tingle of sensitivity hit me.

I pulled out, grabbing the base of the condom so it wouldn't slip off my drained and going-down prick.

Standing up, I realized I had sticky jizz all over my chest. In a fit of raunch, I grabbed my shirt and pulled it on, refusing his offer of a towel. I did, however use it on my groin area.

We exchanged numbers and email addresses. He said he'd love to get together again. If it's worth writing about, I'll make sure you folks hear about it.

I have noticed now when I beat off some time back. I no longer shoot ropes of juicy cum from my well stroked cock. Instead it just oozes out my piss slit and runs down my shaft. I'm in my late 50's any other guys notice this. Although I still enjoy eating my precum and my load!!!

I just watched a video on another site of a guy taking 57 loads to his face....:yikes2:

I read thru the thread about the first time we tasted come. It is a great thread and as I read thru it, I started to think about the orgasms that I remember. The ones that are so hot they stay etched in your mind forever. Fortunately I have quite a few of these thanks to my love of oral sex and a very accommodating wife. I would say one of my favorites combined the 2.

My wife and I were in a 69. Paul was behind her, fucking her hard, his cock rock hard and leaking. Her pussy was so pretty as her pink lips clung to his cock as he withdrew, looking as if they were trying to pull it back in. Her mouth was stroking my cock with intense lust. With a hard cock slamming into her and my tongue lashing her clit, she was in a near constant state of orgasm. Her ass twitching, her body writhing, pushing back to meet every thrust of Paul's big dick. I sense Paul's impending orgasm as his body tightens, his balls pull up, his ass clenches and he let's out a relieving moan as his cock twitches and pumps my wife full of his pent up load. He leaves it in her for nearly a full minute. His cock makes a tight seal and there is no hint of his come yet. I spend the minute licking the spot where his cock is entering my wife, and cleaning the juice off his shaft and lightly tickling his ball sack which is hanging right on my face. My favorite position. Paul starts to withdraw his cock so I move my mouth back to her pussy and make a seal against her bald pussy and his cock. My anticipation is driving me fucking crazy as he pulls out so slowly it is barely noticeable. Her ass is still vibrating from the stimulation and she is still stuffing as much of my cock as possible in her mouth. Finally I feel his swollen head reach her opening. As he pulls out, there is a sudden gush of sperm and pussy juice filling my mouth. Not a drop missed. I revel in the taste as I let it slowly seep down my throat. Honestly, I don't remember if I even came. That experience made me feel like I had come. I felt so satisfied.

Share if you like.

Hell yes I remember anytime I am with a sexual partner I beg for it I turn into a real slut please just do not stop I want more and more

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"The medium is the message." -- Marshall McLuhan

The message of late seems content being hate. Many understand the canvas
and pigments of hate. Fewer grasp the canvas and pigments of love.

Where hate excludes, love includes. Hate creates divisions where no
divisions exists. All human beings are human beings. We all share
universal needs, desires.

Where hate follows shortcuts, love goes around to take the longest and
most arduous way. Hate tells us the way to equanimity is degradation of
us all to the lowest form we can be. Love conversely smiles, reaches out
a hand to help one another upward to our fullest potentials.

Where hate snares with graphic violence, love invites us in attending
to gardening for the community. Hate only tells us that never is enough
and all is scarce. Love goes out and finds there is more than enough and
scarcity is a blatant lie. Love gives freedom, freely.

Why hate? Because it is easy?

This is being written in part as personal reflection on an act of war
against France. No, I'm not French. I am human though and see acts of
war against any humans as tragedy.

What bothers me is that media will continually replay graphic depictions
of the act/s. Why? Is it not enough to have a reporter say from a desk,
"Terrorist have attacked several places in Paris ...". The reporter
could convey all the information via simply talking about it in limited
detail.

I do not need to see mutilated bodies. I do not need to be made to feel
as though I'm rapturous. I am a human being, of course, it disturbs me
to know other humans are dead needlessly.

Yes, I say needless. No apologies here, any religion having a god
demanding worship is a crock of smoldering shit. Any religion further
demanding death of others not following it, is even worse than a crock
of smoldering shit. There is no need of such crocks of smoldering shit.
I mean any and all religion, any and all political idea, any and all
ideology ... any and all of them. I do not follow fanatics and do not
have kind opinion/s of fanatics. They may all line up and kiss my hairy
ass and then go fuck off!

Does that reveal intolerance, possibly hate on my part? No. Here is why,
I have to hope any fanatic may see their actions as being negative and
act to correct these actions. It is this hope which binds me from hating
the humans that are fanatics. I strongly dislike their actions, sure,
think a lot of us do.

Fanatics give us black and white. The world has all kinds of various
hues of gray. There is entropy and chaos for example. The common
expression being, "shit happens". It is our choice how we handle the
shit happening. This to me is not as some suggest, a reaction, to me it
is our very divine principle of choice and the only act.

How do I handle it? Well, I attempt to avoid conflict and drama. If I do
not talk about the 'it' of the moment, the 'it' holds no power. If it
has no power, I have no need wasting mine on thinking, talking, doing
anything regarding 'it'. The 'it' usually goes away, replaced by another
'it'. Still this seems to work out.

I get busy doing my own 'it's. I create. I love. I learn. I laugh.
Sometimes, I cry. But I do not fall into the void which stares back.
That void, is hate. There is too much in the world of hate. I rather
light candles of love.

Come, help me grow this love so we can all eat, take shelter.

Will be staying at hotel for conference. Busy during days but lots of tim a night for play. Contact if interested