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I did get Blackula staked. I set him up with one of my horniest friends. The one that talks smack about having and getting the best skills. After the date. "How'd it go.""Nope, once was enough." I kept setting him up with slut after slut and they kept coming back with the same refrain. One couldn't go to the bathroom for weeks, some refused because it's rough on a nightshift and others didn't bother. Eventually, I either hooked him up with a good one or he found his own way to one. A legal one of course. 17-Nov-2020
The biggest dick I ever took claimed to be 18 1/2 inches. Chatroom talk lead to curiosity which lent me an address so I can knock on his door. I had no intention of getting fucked even though he announced that that was his preference. If it was true I wanted to see it, touch it and get off. Curiosity and boredom. He gave me a tour of a shrine he dedicated to his ex lover who held the record for severe hole damage and the most diaper changes. No man could handle him like his ex, not even a woman. Yippee for the dumb Colombian kid but I just wanted to see it so I could go home and jerk off to it or whatever. The size he described was impossible, I wanted to prove him wrong, pity him and maybe let him have at it with his regular sized dick. Even though I didn't measure it, It sure as hell looked like the dimensions he was so fond of describing. He whispered softly to me that if I let him in, he would be gentle and use a kit. The kit consisted of a lot of lube, straws with no holes and an ass stretching contraption made of plastic. I was going to be Lego fucked. I acquiesced as a kindly gay desperado but warned that any pinching and he'd have to pull out. It took him long mintues to open me and then break in but once he did he hit the motherload and I panicked. Oh shit! He found a top's bottom glory. When you stop keegling and he goes in and hits the nono spot, he's going to fall in in love. Good for him but I thought our date would be about Frankstein and his monster not Blackula with his. It was an anatomy lesson I never forgot. How proud men are of a ginormous penis no one can take, except the sad little twink that would end up with a sloppy, drooping asshole that probably couldn't satisfy many men either. I actually told him to be straight. The thought of a little twink being wrecked for four years disabled me. The idea hurt me more than the actuality so I made him pull out, he nicely obliged and I left. I was still a slut with some dignity intact. It might not exactly have been 18 1/2" but it sure felt like it. Everywhere I went for six moths there he was. Looking at me intently and shredding me with his eyes. "You know I hit the spot, surrender to it you fucking cunt" he would beckon. Blackula lived to torture my ass. 16-Nov-2020
My Russian ex daddy would shove a finger up my ass and taste my dick when I came home from work to ensure I wasn't fucking around. Lesson: shower thoroughly with mild soap after every cheating fuck. 13-Nov-2020
All marriages are buffets. An everlasting line of choices, traditions and exotic flavors. Only the most attractive half are entitled to get extra sides but they are also the only ones stopping the marriage from boiling over. They're having too much fun. That's all that matters, right? 01-Nov-2020
An effect of sexual abuse is that you inherit a victim's persona even if you've surpassed it and predator abusive comprehension. The survivors are damaged goods pretending to blend into a world that's flashed forward around you. Our vulnerabilities succumb to the first clever wolf that help incorporate us into the new world so that we fit in and hate it. To cope, we become the victims they are. They are our daddy saviors. We think that the next one will fix what the other one did because this one is different. At least half of my LTRs were straight men with penchant for wee ones. They were not in denial about their sexuality they were just hiding. I happened to hit the jackpot.
My mother finished ex violence with more violence. The end to my abuse was to sucker punch the croc in the middle of Manhattan for stalking me at work and every where else. He fell down as a grandmother yelled "yeah, punch that old motherfucker!" She didn't even know our business. Everyone surrounded me to make sure I was all right and he ran off bloodied and embarrassed. MY mother and I never saw our stalkers again, my mother's broken bones and heart healed, her ex's bones got WWF broken and I moved back to my mother's house. I re-encountered my mother's ex, riding on an unlighted subway car after work. I wasn't sure until we descended from the tunnels and out into outdoor light. It was him, he had healed and was seething. His eyes bore through me and I felt a chill and a scent. Every flicker of light cast a Hitchcock shadow as I froze for fuck's sake. I had beat him once but it was a tough battle. Illegal drugs made him Hulkean. Even lesbian cop kickassers couldn't bring him down. He stared eerily at me through the longest ride of my life. (I will not bore you with rest.) 27-Oct-2020
I couldn't provide a dick pic for my daddy croak but I have the next best thing. When my gay friends asked why I wouldn't sit on daddy's lap I'd always say it was because I didn't want to sit on a telephone. They never got it. I hope this generation does. The telephone speaks for itself. Those fuckers hurt. 26-Oct-2020
I came out to my mother when I was 17 years old and no longer residing in her household. I didn't expect a good reaction so I called her on a public phone and announced it to her. She cried, became quiet and told me she suspected it but that she loved me, no matter what. I didn't have to lie to mother anymore. It was freeing. I visited her a few days later. She had time to absorb and ponder having a gay son. She cried again, I asked why and she said because being gay meant I was destined for a miserable life. That's impossible, it was such an overwhelming feeling to be me. I had to prove her wrong. She asserted conditions for my new identity: no meeting of "my men," I must continue to have a masculine presence, especially around family and don't get sick. I ignored her, introduced her to every one, told as much of the family as I could bear and kept my masculinity in check.
My mother recently confided to me that she used to receive dick pics from my croc daddy in the US mail while I was living with him. I thought, he might have done it as revenge for my unwillingness to absorb giant dick pain and or tricking him into being a gay bottom. When I took him to Gay Pride he cried because he thought I mistook him for one of those. He was straight. His shit was no joke but he was. A child molester was my educator and entrance into the gay world. I also figured my mother and I were even. Her boyfriend tried to brutally rape me. Mother's boyfriend was two years older than me, my croc daddy was 55. Our boyfriends shared the same culture, understood the nuances that make people vulnerable, and always seemed to be creepily plotting something sexual for us. Neither man represented our community. They were perverts sidling up to mommies so they could play with their children. (Now I know why she tried to cut him out of my photo albums.) I understand her comments and I realized her concern. My gay education came from perverts. The community hates itself more than the media loves it. Clicks work for a minute, the families we create are fake and we all die alone. We need less "Boys In The Band" depression and more gay reality awareness so we can come up with better coping mechanisms. Not smile at weirdos taking advantage of us because of politically correct etiquette.
I apologized to my mother. My croc stalked me, stole from us, used me, beat me up, tied me up and raped me. Afterwards, he thought of not releasing me because he was afraid I would kill him. You bet your life! But I had no choice, I begged for my life, stroked the psycho's ego and he loosened one arm while he Soniced out of the apt. I was stalked by my ex, my mother was stalked by her ex and I was stalked by both exes. I spent a lifetime trying to prove mother's sentiment wrong but in the end, she was right.
(Pic of my daddy croak included. Mother destroyed my croak dic picks but y'all can ask mother if she kept her copy.) 26-Oct-2020
The strangest part of the world that I will never understand is it's pretense. It's maddening to think we can become such a manufactured being. 25-Oct-2020
The reason men are defenseless in manners of sex is because our willies have a tendency to betray us by speaking in tongues. It doesn't understand when you tell it to stop but you can tell what its getting at. The only way to control it is to move away from the shiny object as soon as the willy stretches and ...run! 25-Oct-2020
I put my vulnerabilities out there and... every... single... person... used it against me as I did the same. Every petal that disintegrates from the Beast's rose is a path closer to destruction. "I promise that I will never disrespect our interracial relationship by calling the cops on you." 20 years later. "I'm cheating, I'm in love, I want you out and if you complain I'm calling the cops." How is the theory of vulnerability successful for relationship proximity? 17-Oct-2020
I shut the fuck up too so I can listen to her. 15-Oct-2020
You bet she did. Thanks, mom. Kisses. 19-Sep-2020
A mother's greatest gift to her child is to shut the fuck up and listen. 13-Sep-2020
I broke up with a boy bander because he sang to me before sex and while showering. He was either humming or licking my face. I dug him, he whipped his braids back and forth and unleashed them in a soundless cavalcade of excitement but his vocal training took precedence over my feelings. So, I represented my Seinfeldian upbringing and broke his heart. I apologized profusely but I don't regret it. He deserved to be loved for it. I was a fan of his band music, encouraged his talent but being "sung to" is my Jerry "big hands" greatest fear. I just can't do it. 28-Sep-2020
You may delete every word new society deems morally and culturally corrupt but its a hypocritical fail to make exceptions for the illicit moneymaker. That word is the most heinous of all. Don't you think? 26-Sep-2020
I used to be the family go-to babysitter. You dare say its because my sister and I were the only colored ones and the kids were deathly afraid of her so I was the only choice? (Only the fear for my sis was real. I think.) I paid attention to them and weaved magical tales that released their imaginations. I showed them the place in my brain where they can go to find a choice and be safe. I shooed their nightmares away. I taught them to move forward to deepen the stories and find resolutions until they could run. It blew them away.
As adults they thanked me for being their only father figure. I was very touched and saddened. Everyone actually thought I'd be a great father one day. I did not. I worry too much. I know what really happens. I was a child, taking care of other children that needed to be entertained and protected. I lived the exact hardships so I handed them some survival tips.
I forget that I also co-parented a child. We (the gay daddies) applied everything social media deemed safe, respectful and representative of a new better world. I concocted favorite meals and experimental creations, picked up after it and endured its ills. We cheered and celebrated everything, we supplied, it demanded, its dads were bonkers but cool, its mother was nuts and married to Archie Bunker with scary reality boys but we kept the humor dry to help the teen laugh. My co-child and I shared music, games, TV and films. Its worries and thoughts I tried to comfort. It's teen brain no longer cracked but there were times I saw a glimmer of bonding in it. Then it grew up and become a Repnazi, realized my color and place and it all went to hell. It was A.I. beginnings with Damien: Omen II resolutions, right through the end. Awareness: most children do not want to be like their fucking parents and they will fuck you up.
Look at that, I had me some children. 25-Sep-2020
I didn't need to see my color on a Hollywood screen when I was growing up. I was a soul man. If they sounded like me and thought like me, I followed them. If they had life ideas worth retrieving I worshipped them. I devoured their art and shared beautiful things of greatness and fleeting joy. I've been idiotically and forcefully enslaved throughout my life. My lack of new etiquette is offensive because it was taught me by masters of social worship. Im just the asshole warning you with a smile. I've witnessed too many mommy (Biden) and daddy (Trump) fistfights to not predict its stupid end. (You can switch them around if that's your sexual fantasy.) I fought the war that got me here that gets passed down and gave me nothing. In my future, I live where heroes are not necessarily of my kind but helped create my heart, my soul, my joy and that thing that makes people wanna fuck you. It's a safe place for me to go. 23-Sep-2020
Art does not create monsters, parents do. Art can only reflect and make us aware, not create a complaint department in an area where the perpetrator doesn't exist. His "paperwork" evaporates as soon as you continue sucking his dick. If you don't know how to empower children, you are not empowered. 20-Sep-2020