Cartoon "Art"

Challenged

I read blogs..I do. Some are more for the pictures obviously.  Some are amusing..some are like car crashes..I can only look at them for so long...until I click the red "X".

It isn't often I find a blog that intrigues me..that I am interested in..that plays with my emotions. One that is amusing one day..sad the next..and that I find some sort of kinship to. Take a look at my blog roll. There are hundreds of blogs listed under "The BLM Back Room" and "BLM Other Blogs". Yet only a choice few make it to "the Library".

I hardly ever speak of another blog here..probably a handful of times I've done so. I don't recommend things to my readers..we all have agendas, we're all big boys (and girls) and can decide for ourselves what to look at.

Underduhrainbows is a blog worthy of "the Library". Only around since March 2011, but apparently it's the reincarnation of a blogger from hiatus. It's the rantings and ravings of a 20 something year old. He writes his manifest, and tells us the the reason behind his blog:

 ...beyond all these things concerning my life, enjoying college, applying for jobs/internships, looking at graduate schools, all I really want is to see what's over the rainbow...again. 

 Often he's funny..and at the same time self-deprecating. Sometimes he even worries me...


When I was in the closet and when I used to have a blog where I did everything for my sake, I constantly fantasized what it was like to live in the out.  I wondered what it felt like if people knew I had the entire Glee soundtrack on my Ipod.  How would they respond if they heard me belt out songs from Wicked?  What if they knew my boyfriend, Cristiano Renaldo, abused me because he was incapable of showing love?

I'm sorry to say that I don't always understand what he writes...maybe it's over my head..maybe it's under my head. But being in his head is interesting nonetheless.  Yet, at times I wonder if he's just an over-inebriated spaced out druggie...

Last night, I killed two 40s, (Colt 45 is my brand) and several beers before I finally tapped out next to another passed out gay.  I actually thanked myself for not hitting on him.  I remember discussing carefully with myself if I wanted to play with his hair while he was passed out.  It'd be a gamble obviously because he'd have done two things, start sucking on my fingers or recoil in horror at my beastly figure.  I'm glad I just slept next to him and waited for him to make the first move.  I woke up at 9AM today with all my clothes on, and him not as attractive as I thought he was.  Very glad that I didn't try to tap him.

But apparently, he does have high aspirations:

...I promise you, dear anonymous readers, that I will one day be a beautiful swan who will get so much sexxx and cock inside me that you'll look forward to reading what I have to say about my sex life.  Maybe I will even be a dove, symbolic of love, finally able to breathe.  Actually, fuck birds.  I'll be a man holding the hands of another man, and feel content and satisfaction and happiness just by that act alone, without impairment, without the stench of sexxx.  I promise myself this every day so I don't jump off bridges, shoot up a motherfucking place, or if it's even possible, drink myself, with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes, to death.


He has issues (don't we all)..and he's happy to let us see the oddness, the complexity, the strangeness that is Under the Rainbow:

“Let me fuck you,” I said 30 minutes later, pushing his knees to his chest

 "No. Don't...”

I gave up, “fine. Then fuck me...” I inched closer on top of him, grabbing his cock and putting right in front of my (insert orifice).

“No. I don't even know you...”

“So?”

“So we don't love each other,” he replied.

“So.”

“So we don't love each other.”

Is this guy serious?

I almost threw up when he said that, not just because of the watered down jungle juice or the bad beer. I almost threw up because of how completely ludicrous he sounded, his reason for not fucking, “we don't love each other.” As if people needed love in order to procreate, or in our case, needed love in order to get off. Love has nothing to do with sex I wanted to tell him. I wanted to berate him for being dumb fucking kid, for believing in Hallmark cards and Julia Robert's movies. I wanted to laugh at his face, and call him a faggot, belittle him for being so naïve. Instead I sucked him off.

But, he gets political too. On the death of Osama Bin Laden he writes:

And I can't think of anything but Obama talking to Michelle saying, "hey baby, I just got him can I put it in your pooper tonight?"  And Michelle answering, "just for tonight Barry.  Just for tonight...just the tip...

He's no idiot though and it's apparent. He writes that he graduated Magna Cum Laude and his writing, while sometimes comes out like stream of consciousness, is clearly well thought out. He tells about his childhood, his coming out stories, and entries that, although we are very much different..shows we are also, very much alike:

The great drama of the closeted gay son or husband or brother or father is the desire to alleviate pain by causing pain to the people they love, by admitting a lie continuously told despite acts of love, by dashing expectations, by changing the dreams and hopes of the disbelieving other. And I am not ready to participate, I'd rather leave. The closeness we shared together emphasized the struggle and the pain of lying to the people I loved, I I had to leave because I wasn't ready for this great drama. This drama meant that I would have to reign their hopes in, slap them in the face with reality, and leave them trapped at the moment I told them just as I was trapped to every moment I didn't tell them.


He writes about hook-ups, finding dates, dating sites, and he writes about his family. He tells stories about his life, his faith, and weird, funny sex stories.   Ultimately, what draws me in is the emotional rollercoaster that he rides..because I've been on that ride before too..and probably will be on it again (so will I). He's introspective:

What is it about me, that makes me shun human contact, even amongst friends, the deeper fears about my life? Because my fears isn't about money or employment, it's about love, about purpose, about meaning, and these are things I can't just say to someone I'll be drinking with, someone I'll be saying “what's up” to. And what is there to say anyway? From those friends or even from strangers? Other than “that's life” “everything will be fine” “you're a miracle.”

...and when he writes you empathize. His writing is descriptive..invokes feelings. It's like a movie developing before your eyes:

But the bar was essentially closed. People had found their partners and last call meant I had to find mine soon. I looked to the side again and saw the old man staring at me. Still.

“Hey.” I sighed.

He smiled back. “Hi.”

I only wanted to ask him one thing, “can you buy me a drink?” because alcohol was an escape for me that night and two years after the fact, from the isolation and the homesickness living in a foreign country can engender, living in a world that I never seem to be a part of. The blacking out. The unconsciousness. The missing memories. The hangover. I loved it all. But more than that, it provided a brief window of time to make choices I never would have followed through otherwise. Like asking for help.

So instead of a drink, “can I ask you a question?”

"Sure,” he said. Smiling still, with all the warmness and gentleness of an old koala bear.

“Doesn't it...” choosing my words wisely, “um, so are you with someone?”

“You mean like a ---” despite closing time, the bar's music was on full blast, and his English accent barely audible.

“Like a partner.”

“Oh no! Hah, I have a friend but...” his words dying off to music and my inability to understand his mumbling English.

“So like...I mean...doesn't it get lonely?” The alcohol speaking. I'd never be so blunt and intrusive. But I looked at him then. Curious and determined to call him out on any lies or eject his truths.

“It does...”

Good, that's what I wanted to hear, someone to tell me I'm not wrong in believing life sucks, that crying over it, crying to end it isn't youthful misguidance.

“And like...I mean. How? You're so...” I didn't want to say it. “...old.” I said it.

He kept smiling but maybe not.  Maybe it was the shape of his mouth, sculpted after years of life that spoke more of better times than worse times that gave him the effect of contentment.  It had a quality of reassurance supported by his age which no logic can ever deny.  He knew things, his smile said, he's seen things and he knew things, and the rest of my life is just a matter of learning them.  And laugh lines.

“I...it's just that...I don't see the point. Like. What's the point? And. Like. I don't ever know why I keep on going. I just, kinda want it to end. Just. I'm just so.”

He thought for a minute what to say, “it does get lonely.”

“AND doesn't that bother you? For SO long...Aren't you?”

“I'm doing fine. There's times but for the most part...” he looked away, to the side, thought of what he actually felt, as if staring into another person would influence his real emotions, so many of our emotions already are, tinged, moved about by other people. “I'm fine.”

“You're fine?” I asked in disbelief. “You're just 'fine?'” Angrily, now.

“Yeah.”

“I'm sorry. I have. I have trouble just believing that. Like. I'm only 21 and I just see the rest of my life, and it's just. Dreadful. It's horrible. I can't imagine ever doing anything, the loneliness, it's just going to keep on happening.  And it's not the being alone part, it's the contentment, I ---”

“You'll be fine.” He said with such reassurance I had nothing else to say. Just looked. He seemed too knowing.

“You'll be fine.” He said again, this time with a nod of his head and a smile to the rest of the crowd as they rushed out the door. He was too warm not to believe. To say something, so simply and with too much confidence, it moved about inside me.

With such reassurance, our conversation didn't need much of anything else, it just paused but I wanted to give him something, maybe a kiss from me to him, like in the movie Shortbus. I always found that scene, when handsome Jay Brennan kisses the very old mayor of New York to be one of its most touching.

“Listen,” I said. Understandingly now, gentler, I was disarmed.

“Are you going to be at Pride next week ?”  I half-remembered Oxford's pride week was the coming week.

“Of course!” he said. 

“Can I ask you another question? Um, so,” chuckled to myself, not only reassured but elevated because of three little words he uttered and because I knew I didn't have to sleep with that deep pit in my stomach, that that night was going to be peaceful. And sometimes, this is enough to keep me going, just no bad thoughts. 

All because he said, “you'll be fine.”  So in more equal terms than when we started, as a favor between friends more than advantage, “do you mind buying me a drink?”

Go read Underduhrainbows.  Read it because it will make you sad for him, it will make you laugh at him. Read it because you'll wonder why he's so fucked up sometimes..because you'll think he's a drunk, a degenerate, bordering on depression, suicidal.

Read it because when you do..you'll see images of yourself and that's what good writing is all about.

Hump Day: Football Inspiration

I'm not a big football fan.When most guys are firing up the wings, chilling the brewski's and getting their bark a-lounges ready..I'm hitting the mall, or watching some stupid reality show or moisturizing (not really - well..not religiously, at least).

I am a sports fan..I love baseball, but, football has never captured me the way the old past time has. I could watch it, and do on a very rare occasion..definitely the Super Bowl, but, I don't follow the whole season. Now, maybe the NFL could entice me with some new uniforms (or lack thereof). Note to Robert Goodell (NFL commish): see Brandon Kent below for my suggestions...

Let Me In

So, what makes me bi?

I guess that's a difficult question to answer. I mean, after all, for the past 18 or so years, I haven't had sex with another woman other than my wife, and even in the past 3 years or so..haven't had sex with any woman including my wife. Is that a factor of me getting my fill with other guys? or me, in fact, being gay?

It's hard to say. I do have attraction to other women, I can definitely appreciate a hot girl, and I'm sure I would be able to get hard, and have sex with a woman. Well, then why don't I have sex with my wife anymore? Hmm..I guess having her as a guest writer on here is out of the question, so, I'll have to answer that question on my own.

Sex with my wife, after kids were born became..boring, matter of fact, and more work than it was worth. Not only was I sick of asking for it, and being the one to initiate it, but, kids made the time available to have sex almost impossible. We were also exhausted. Our schedules started not to coincide..I'd be up very early for the gym and work and she'd be up late at night doing..basically nothing..watching TV while I slept.

Then, there was the interest factor. Sex changes when you get married and have kids. I think most women actually use sex as a weapon.  First to reel in the man, get him interested, get married, have kids, then..it becomes a chore for them. Of course I generalize, I'm sure there are many actively sexual married women out there, but if you speak to most married men..they will say that sex isn't what it used to be. No more blow jobs, no more 69s, nothing exciting or different. The passion leaves as does the interest. Why do you think up to 70% of married men have some kind of extra-marital affair? (infidelitystats.html).

It became frustrating that it was put on me  Sometimes, my wife would ask "Why Don't we have sex anymore?" What am I to say: "Because you lay there like a lox?" "Because you've let yourself go physically?" "Because you don't initiate it more often?" "Because sex with you is boring, uninteresting and as far from hot and passionate as sex can be?"  Any of those answers would likely get me maimed, killed, or worse yet..divorced!

It was fortunate and a bit odd that sex with my wife ended completely when I began having sex somewhere else and that somewhere was with Ross. Until that point, sex was infrequent..from weekly, to monthly, to every other month.....to never. I had always had attraction to men. But now, I could satisfy that attraction and also have that hot, amazing passionate sex that I had been missing for so long.  Guys, or at least the guys I have been with, don't match sex up with household chores, money issues, responsibilities. We want to have sex. Fuck the chores, money and other issues. Let's have fun, let's enjoy this moment. We don't necessarily use sex as a tool to get other things or as revenge. We want sex despite our anger (and maybe sex is more passionate because we're angry)!

So, I went from having sex exclusively with a woman, to sex with a woman and a man, to sex only with a man. Is that a transition from Heterosexual, to Bisexual to Gay? I don't think so. I think it's a matter of opportunity, of desire, and of sexual survival. In actuality, if I weren't having sex with another man..I wouldn't be having sex at all. Would that make me a-sexual? No.

By some strange rationalization, I've decided that having sex with another woman would be wrong..it would be cheating on my wife - not that having sex with a man isn't cheating, but, sex with a woman would be getting something that my wife could easily provide. Having sex with a man is different. Can't wait to explain that to St. Peter at the gates of heaven:

"Well Pete, you see, I never had sex with another woman once I married." I'd say.
"Ah, so you were faithful." he would say as he opened the gates.
"Well, not exactly" I'd say..as I watched the gate stop opening. "I did have sex with men..numerous men..hot men..too many men to mention." I'd finally divulge.
"Don't you think that was being dishonest, unfaithful and an act of infidelity?" The Saint would ask as he closed the gate shut.
"Pedro, have you never had a desire to see what it was like to get a blow job from another man, have sex with him? I'd question.
"I haven't succumbed to such evilness" he would say.
At that point, I'd rub his ass, lift his shroud and suck his cock until he bursts with pleasure in my mouth.
 At that point, the gate would open and  I'd get a wink, a waive and maybe he'd stick his number in the palm of my hand.

I know it's wrong..it's obvious. Me saying sex with a man was OK, since it wasn't with another woman is tantamount to Bill Clinton's proclamation and rationalization that oral sex wasn't "sex".

Anyway, given the opportunity, if I wasn't married, I'm sure I would have sex with other women as well as continue my sexual fun with men. Who you have sex with at the moment doesn't necessarily define what you are (Straight, Bisexual or Gay)..it only opens the possibilities of your sexual proclivity.

See you in Hell Bill.

Private Parts

I often wonder why some people come to my blog..I mean, clearly, based on emails and comments I receive, most readers feel some kind of kinship to me. They read stories and my experiences, and see themselves. I can't tell you how often I get a comment saying that the reader could have written that same exact story.

I help people, they say.  They sympathize with me. Some, while they don't agree with my actions, my lying, my dishonesty, empathize with me. Hey, I don't say that what I do is right...I couldn't think that unless I was mentally deranged. But, I feel I'm doing the best I can under the circumstances.

However, as we all know there are the others: the Anonymous commenters.. the people who are holier than thou..those that walk the path of the righteous. They comment..they spew hatred, they criticize, they wish me horrible things. They insist that I have to come clean, they sympathize for my wife and family, they wish for my quick and painful demise. But..like the tattoo says in the pic below: "Only God Can Judge Me."

Well then..why the hell are they here? Why do they read? Why add to the blog by commenting? Why do they keep coming back for more?

It reminds me of a movie I saw - Howard Stern's Private Parts. Some think he is crude, cruel, vicious, offensive and insulting. In the movie - recreating a real life event - a radio executive (nicknamed "Pig Vomit" by HS) requests research on what drives Stern's success on radio, despite his foul reputation..



from Howard Stern (1997):

Researcher: 'The average radio listener listens for eighteen minutes. The average Howard Stern fan listens for - are you ready for this? - an hour and twenty minutes.'
Pig Vomit: 'How can that be?'
Researcher: 'Answer most commonly given? "I want to see what he'll say next."'
Pig Vomit: 'Okay, fine. But what about the people who hate Stern?'
Researcher: 'Good point. The average Stern hater listens for two and a half hours a day.'
Pig Vomit: 'But if they hate him, why do they listen?'
Researcher: 'Most common answer? "I want to see what he'll say next."' 

 

Yea, I can moderate the comments I receive, but I also believe in free speech, even in my little blog world. Do I delete some comments? Not often (as a matter of fact, I emailed one recent nasty commenter telling him I mistakenly hit "delete"prior to publishing his comment and that he was free to re-post his comment). But, I reserve the right to do so..and, sometimes..I think I should.

Do I wish people would treat me with a little more respect? OK, maybe "respect" isn't the word..but, I am here..putting my life out there..writing about personal issues, feelings, and experiences - my own "Private Parts."  Doesn't that deserve some sort of acknowledgement and consideration?

Despite what people think, Howard Stern has triumphed and is now regarded as the "King of All Media". I consider it an honor and a privilege that I am involved in the same struggles for understanding as the self-proclaimed King.

Surviving (V)

Anyone else watching Survivor? There's usually a few hotties that end up running around with their shirts off, and this year, I spotted one: Keith Tollefson, from Minnesota. Prior to being on Survivor, he was a Water Treatment Tech, basically, working in shit.

I'm hoping he doesn't get voted off too soon. I could certainly use the weekly eye-candy!

and the Agony of Defeat

I thought things were great with Kevin. I mean, he gave me the impression that we were cool. That he was into being together..wanted me to be there, wanted to do this regularly. When someone invites you over twice, basically asks you to stay as long as possible, has sex with you..is totally into making out, kissing and cuddling..before during and after sex...am I wrong to think he's into you?

We chatted after I left that last time. He said he was into meeting again. Then, I didn't hear from him. I didn't think that was odd, as I figured it was the weekend and maybe he doesn't want the strings of texting someone like a boyfriend. Then Monday came, and I text him..no answer.

Tuesday comes..and I text him again..asking if he's around today. No answer...

It's funny how people are so two-faced. It doesn't hurt my feelings if someone is up front and says either "I'm not into you" or "I'm looking strictly for sex" or "this is a one time thing".  Be honest, upfront...

But, if you lead someone on..then not only am I hurt, but disappointed too..

Hump Day: Hot Hunkie

Whistle While You Work

It wasn't intentional. I was working, busy, running from my file cabinet to grab a file and back to my office to grab a call. Apparently, I did it out of the blue..almost subconsciously.    I whistled.

The receptionist in my office was stunned and asked

"Are you whistling?" and laughed.
"Yes, yes, I guess I am" I said almost incredulously.
"What's with you? I've never seen you whistle!" she said.
I laughed. "I don't know," I said. "I guess I got carried away. I was in a whistling mood."

What's happening to me?  I thought. I'm busy at work...things are smooth at home..and I'm having regular, amazing sex with an incredibly hot younger guy.

Jesus. Damn lucky I'm not dancing, singing and doing cartwheels!

Love Knows No Boudaries

My younger son and I were watching TV together one night. We were watching some show and Selena Gomez was a guest. Now, I remember her from her Disney channel show when she was younger and pre-pubescent, apparently, much younger. She has blossomed and my son and I were stunned by her amazing beauty! She was wearing a short, very short, tight white dress which showed that she was no longer an innocent child.  My son said she was hot and I agreed.



As the interview progressed, she mentioned her relationship to Justin Bieber - apparently the lucky pop-star sensation has lucked out even more by getting this hot little woman. My son said, "ugh, she just went down a notch in my eyes because of her dating Justin - but..not that much!" (because she was so hot - apparently even that could be overlooked) and we had a chuckle.




The conversation took a turn when I acted shocked that his eyes were glued to the TV oogling this girl.



"Dad  would you rather I oogle Justin?" he asked.
"Well, it wouldn't matter to me" I told him.
"Yea, but you're happier that I like girls, right?" he asked.
"Honestly, it wouldn't matter who you loved..whether it was a girl or a boy, as long as you were happy and that person was good to you" I told him.
"Your happiness matters more to me than whether that person is a boy or a girl."I said.




But, damn..he was right. She was hot!

Wanda Sykes on Gay Marriage (V)

Feeling So Right

I headed to Kevin's house eagerly anticipating spending some more time with him. I got there, and he opened the door and gave me a kiss.  He leads me upstairs, and I grab his jean-ed butt on the way up. When we get to his room, we embrace in a nice, long kiss. We chatted how we both loved to cuddle..and this was going to be all about cuddling, right?

We laid down in his bed, and continued making out. He's a great kisser, and incredibly great to look at. He pulls off my shirt, and I pull his off too. Still kissing we're rubbing each others bodies, and slowly removing pants, underwear until we're both completely naked.

It was so nice just laying there. Him on top of me, next to me, his back turned to me and just cuddling. His body is amazing..smooth from head to toe except for his groomed pubic hair, light dusting of hair on his legs and some butt crack hair. His chest is nicely defined, his ass is a sight of beauty and his stomach is amazingly flat (I'm jealous). I've tried to search online to post some pictures of guys who may resemble him..but as of yet, I've only found the few that I've posted along with this, and the other blog entries I've written that may look like him body-wise (including the pic in this blog) but honestly, he is hotter. How did I get so lucky?


We make out, apparently Kevin loves kissing..as do I. He goes down on me and sucks my cock, and I return the favor, until he gets so excited, and stops me. We take breaks watching TV in between kissing, stroking, sucking..and cuddling.

He takes my cock, and places it on his ass..and he's moaning..telling me how good it feels....but this is about cuddling, I tell him and turn him so we can kiss again...and cuddle.  We're making out, and again, end up with cock on ass..until even I couldn't stand it anymore. I grab a condom some lube and put it on and lube up my cock. I place a lubed finger inside him slowly...and then pull him on top of me.

He slowly, gently maneuvers my cock into his ass. He's in pain at first...I can see it's uncomfortable for him..and we take it slow. I'm learning that with him on top is the best position for him to start. Eventually, I hug him and flip him on his back, legs at my shoulders and fuck him as he's moaning. Kevin is hot to look at and it feels great and really nice and comfortable being with him..and we're working up quite the sweat.

His eyes are closing..and he's working his cock pretty good now as I'm stroking my cock inside him..in and out..he's moaning..and moving faster and faster. I notice he's getting very close and he says he's about to cum..I continue fucking him..as he shoots gobs of cum all over his chest..and heaves a big breath of exhaustion.

I slowly pull out of his perfect ass. I take off my condom and lay on my back and pull him close. I stroke his cum covered stomach and grab some hot, thick cum and use it as lube for my awaiting cock. I jerk off until I explode in ecstasy and we wipe off and change bed positions to continue what I came there for...

some more cuddling.

Hump Day: Jellyman

Age: 22 years old
Location: Derby, England, United Kingdom
Height: 5' 11" / 180 cm
Weight: 154 lbs / 70 kg

Tetris

Things were pretty quiet on the Kevin front. I had hoped we would get to chat..get to know each other a little. Was hoping he felt the same, but, Kevin was at school I was working and we never really had an extended time to chat.
Then, I was home, relaxing and watching some TV when I get a text message from him.

"Sorry about today, was busy" he says.
"Not a problem" I respond.
"Maybe we can hang this week?" he asks.
"Yea, what days work for you?"
"Tomorrow works" he says.
"Great" I say, "I'm looking forward to it."
"How long can you come for?" he asks.

It's then that I got the feeling that things maybe were mutual..that he felt a connection when we were together..I mean, if he wanted me to fuck him and run, he wouldn't be asking for how long I could stay, right? Seems like things were getting comfortable...

"Well, how long do you want me there for? I ask jokingly.
"As long as you can!" he says.
"Well, as long as you can occupy me, I can stay" I say.
"Oh, I'll find a way!" he says.
Then, comes the inevitable...the personal questions...and I don't shy from them, I know it's coming..eventually and I don't try and deceive anyone..I was definitely feeling good talking to Kevin.

"Can I ask a personal question? he asks. "Do you have kids?"
"Yea, I do. I hope that's not a problem with you." I tell him.
"Well, I do have an issue with you being married, but you're still sexy and really nice..so...I'll have to deal" he says.

I then told him about my relationship with Ross in the past (as far as length of time, and how I view how a relationship can work time-wise) and about my sexual past.

Now it's his turn for some personal questions:
"So who else are you sexual with?" I ask.
"Well, I was in a two year relationship until May of this year. Since then I've only had sex with one other guy. That guy and I dated for a month before we had sex...I actually don't know what came over me when we met the other day..I don't usually just have sex randomly."
"Well, I gave you the opportunity to not have sex" I said, recalling how when he asked me if I wanted to fuck I told him we can wait, since I was hoping I would see him again.

He liked that..he liked that I asked him questions while we were making out..it showed I was interested in him..and I am. The blocks are falling into place...

"Do you like to cuddle?" he asks.
"Absolutely! Love it..."
"Well, we'll have to do some of that tomorrow" he says.

I'm looking forward to it.

A Tale of Two Cities

There was a time when you could arrive at the airport last minute, and check your bags, glide through security and quickly make your way to the departing gate.  You didn't have to disrobe, remove your shoes, check your cell phone, and be subject to pat-downs or scans that invade your privacy. You could bring on a bottle of water, a six-pack of coke, shampoo, shaving cream.  Basically, unless you carried a weapon, you were good to go.

Even car travel was easier. There was less congestion and police weren't an everyday presence on major bridges and thoroughfares.

Going to the movies, mall, sporting events, and any big gathering was quick and easy. You stood on line, showed your ticket and quickly made it to your seat.  Yea, even food packaging was less cumbersome and nobody ever told you to "say something if you see something."

Nobody cared if you built a mosque in lower Manhattan. Nobody was suspicious of a turban clad person. A lost suitcase or bag on the Long Island Railroad was just that, not a reason for delays and police with bomb-sniffing dogs.

There wasn't a 9/11..and our Country was seemingly safe. It is a tale of two cities..one that lived prior to 9/11 and one that survives now.

Yesterday, I watched the memorial ceremonies with my son. He asked why they're reading the names so slowly.

"It's because almost 3,000 people died that day" I told him. "Every life is precious. They can't read those names slow enough" I explained.

I noticed that some of the readers were young, very young. Reading the names of their fathers, mothers, uncles, grandparents, those that perished on that fateful day. They couldn't have been more than 2 or 3 on 9/11/2001. They're a new generation..a generation that never knew the way life used to be.

Now we stand on line at airports for hours, checking bags, going through security.  Being asked if we packed our bags, making sure our identification if authentic. Making sure we don't take a nail clipper on board, or shampoo or a razor.

Going to a ball game require my children to be wanded, me being patted down like a prisoner. they take our water bottles, they check our bags.

It's become a "regular" life for some because they never knew a simpler time.

9/11 brought out patriotism, unity and a resolve in New Yorkers and Americans to survive and succeed despite what was done to us. Yes, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

For many of us, It will be a time we will never forget.

Never Forget

Locker Room Etiquette (V)

Early Bird, Part 2

(Continued from 9/6)

"Where are you from?" I asked.
"Peru" he responded with a very distinct accent.
"Nice" I said. "You're cute" 
"Thanks, you too" he said.

As others began to encroach on our private space, I turned and walked out of the room, pulling him by his towel to follow, which he did. We stood in the hallway for a short time when he leaned in and gave me a nice, soft kiss and our tongues met for the first time.

I ask if he wants to come to my room and he says yes.  We make the way down and I open the door and close it behind us.

"So what's your name?" I ask.
"JC" he says.
"Great, nice to meet you JC." I say and I shake his hand and tell him my name.

We take off our towels and lay down on the bed. We continue to make out and explore each others bodies. He's a great kisser..and he continues down my chest to my hard cock and takes it in his mouth. We continue making out and then he rolls over on his stomach and shows me his firm smooth ass. I grab a condom and place it on his ass and he whispers "be gentle".
I grab him around his chest and place my lips near his ear as I slowly increase the pressure on his asshole with my cock. Soon, it pops in and he lets out a little grunt. I ask him if he's OK and he says yes and begins rocking his ass into my cock. Soon we're fucking with passion and then he turns on his side and I'm fucking him on his side. He turns some more, and I re-enter his ass with us now face-to-face and his legs up around my shoulders. We kiss and I'm getting real close.  I pull out and blow my hot load over his chest.  JC grabs me and holds me close as I shutter from the orgasm.

I tell him I was about to leave when I saw him ...to which he says..

"I'm glad you didn't."

Hump Day: Josh

Age: 22 years old
Location: Astoria, New York, US
Height: 5' 9" / 175 cm
Weight: 179 lbs / 81 kg