Friday 30 December 2011
Monday 26 December 2011
occupy - stupid bears are full of stupid
earlier i mentioned how so many homos are dissin' the Occupy movement. dismissing them as a bunch of hippies with no focus in their message even though very similar thoughts would have arisen over the early protest of gay rights.
gay rights? decriminalisation of butt sex? marriage? transgender equality? they no longer want homosexuality to be thought of as mentally illness? fuck! what more do these hippy faggots want!?!
i expect more from the guy who posted the pic and made comments about them being smelly and looking rubbish tip. not because he's a doctor and should have some social responsibility, but he was after all a model with full sleeve tattoos and used for a recent campaign to stop people judging others by their appearance
as for the stupid cub. stupid cub is naive and stupid if he believes the occupy protest has no relevance in Australia. like many of the others, he thinks economic situation in the USA does not affect him, just because this country if one of a handful that has avoided a severe economic collaspe... so far.
there's only on sensible voice here. fiona, whoever you are, i love you. clearly she understands and supports people's right to protest. even if it becomes a inconvenience to their delicate sensibilities. just because their message appears fragmented (probably because you haven't paid that much attention to it) doesn't mean they don't have a point
Thursday 22 December 2011
Wednesday 21 December 2011
it doesn't get better
look at those fucking cupboards. of course he is straight!
but listen to him anyway
asian muscle tops
opposites attract. you know it. i know it. paula abdul knows it.
i was born a blonde. as a toddler, my hair was blinding white, and as a boy it darkened to a bearable blonde. on a school excursion in the late 1980s, our school bus parked up on the hill that looked out over our fine nation's capital, Canberra. this was a popular spot for tourists, fuck knows why, all you could see it the uninspired nothingness Canberra has to offer. another bus pulled up beside our school troop and a sea of overjoyed asian tourists spilled out. for some reason they were impressed with the view of this shitty city, but not as impressed as they were by blonde hair. my classmate, Sarah, and i were quickly snatched by the group and forced to pose in their photos. our supervising teacher gave in to the sheer abundance of smiles that grew on the faces of the tourists. once they had two bright blonde aussie children posing as little defiant rowboats in their tsunami of shiny black hair. i was a little traumatised and ran away after a few pictures. Sarah was not so lucky. not only did she have blonde hair but she had sparkling blue eyes. she was worth so much more than me with my dirty green peepers.
i hated being blonde. as i got into my late teens, i just shaved the fucking shit off. thankfully the hair that grew on my body was darker. when my chest hair sprouted in my early 20s it was mousey brown. ahh, sweet relief!
but the hair that had grown on my arms and legs was cursed to stay blonde. as was the hair that grew on my arse (i had a furry arse by the age of 13). it never darkened. most of the time i can slip by unnoticed, but if ever i'm caught in full sunlight my blonde hairs sparkle and shimmer like golden fleece blowing in the breeze. since i live in Australia, that means i'm in full sunlight 365 fucking days a year! i love the beach so when ever i run to the surf i have a haze of glitter twinkling all around my limbs.
it's sickening! what was even scarier, when i grew a beard, it turned ginger. i was an undercover 'ranga after all
some people love blondes. so throw in a bit of a ginger beard and some men go crazy! in particular asian, mediterranian, arab and middle eastern men. so i get a fair few clients of that description. it's mostly asian clients that i have. more often than not want to be dominated, bullied, savaged and rammed by white bread aussie cock. white bread or in-bred? - i often confuse the two personas.
generally, i'm not really sexually attracted to asian guys. so there you go. i'm a sexual racist. but you already knew that from my anti-douchebags of grindr rant. i'm also not attracted to blonde guys either so most scandinavian races are out too (but that's okay to hate them from my 'position of privilege' because they're white, right?), apparently to many people who target sexual racism, it seems to be okay if you aren't attracted to certain races, you just aren't allowed to publicise it. that makes no sense to me at all.
"i get a lot of 'rice queens' who want me to play the submissive giggly asian boy. but… ew…" said an asian* friend of mine said many years ago, "all you white guys smell like egg and sour milk to me!" it was great to hear things from his side. he had an unbiased view of the posturing and politics gay men play into. an very smart man with an enviable wit that would have you having on every wise ass comment he said
yet, in the work situation my attractions aren't important. a hole is a hole and every hole is a goal… or a paycheque. so when it comes to asian clients, personally, i love it! they're short. they're generally fit, thin and light. they're strongly built little dudes that you can just pick up with one hand and fuck the guts out of them. little asses so tight you can almost hear that ass-ring of muscle pop as your slip big white cock in. like a good ol' toyota hilux, you can fuck the guts out them and they don't break like so many of them sissy white boys do.
plus, they love the act. 'oh, me so horny!' unfortunately can be a pretty accurate representation of how many behave. is it for their benefit? is it for mine? is it even real? who cares. all verbal is good and it's great fun to watch!
so now with my new beefy hairy blonde arse i had become a magnet for asian tops. thankfully for my tight ass these guys generally aren't overly hung, but they sure make up for it and really put on a show. it's like they are trying to impress me. i was twice the size of many of them, so it was a bit like getting fucked by a jack russell (i would imagine…
…and, oh my, have i imagined that scenario. lost and lonely on a dark and stormy night, a fair gent like myself wanders into the lost dogs home and having to rely on the kindness of strangers. one by one they take me into their kennel. sharing their kibble with me. together we gnaw on a bone. ever nibbling closer until his wet nose touches my dry cheeks. his meaty breath on my neck. his paw lovingly caresses my face. we embrace…
ahem… i imagine….)
all these asian muscle tops seemed to appear from everywhere. one guy came around late on a sunday night. a little wired and wanted to pound some white hairy ass. pausing every now and then to suck on his crack pipe while i knocked back a few beers
bang! bang! bang! rubbing the blonde hair on my arms
it's 1 am. "can we go another hour?"
"sure"
bang! bang! bang! rubbing the blonde hair on my legs
it's 2 am. "can we go another hour?"
"mmm sure"
bang! bang! bang! rubbing the blonde hair on my ass
it's 3am "can we go another hour?"
"ummm.. okay"
bang! bang! bang! grabbing my ginger beard
it's 3:59am "can we go another hour?"
"no. "
i see that same guy a lot. he's a great guy. often stops in the middle of the night and orders a huge steak each from room service, i usually end up eating both. i'm like his big chia pet for the night, he keeps me feed and watered to keep that blonde hair sprouting.
i saw a new guy just a few weeks back. in an enormous house on Sydney Harbour. it was a stressful day and did not trust my equipment to function at it's best. so i viagra-ed myself up so much my cock could have knock a glory hole through the inch thick glass wall of his shower recess. i was ready to fuck anything, then WHAM the little guy throws me face down. i get a lovely view of the harbour bridge and opera house while he rammed the shit out of me.
is it opposites attract? or is there a touch of racial revenge in fucking the ass off a white guy? i reckon i would enjoy it if they smacked me around, spat on me shouting "fucking take it, you white cunt!"
who gives a fuck. you're reading too much into it. it's just sex. and it's fun
Thursday 15 December 2011
mix tape - track zero
mix tape - track zero
Bjork : mutual core
this is what NOT to play when entertaining clients. any Bjork track is a bad idea for sexy times
"i shuffle around the tectonic plates..."
fuck, bitch so do i! but i don't go writing a song about it...
shopping V - this changes everything
i was happy to come back to melbourne. though, i now knew where i wanted to be and this city wasn't it. i was happy to be back home. happy to see my housemates and my friends. back at a real gym (really? that's number 3 on my list? that's fucking sad). happy to see my bed (after being ass raped my lower back hurt so much i was in bed for 3 days.)
"you got shagger's back," the Irish Elk quipped
"what?"
"shagger's back. from too much shagging."
"what!?! no! i don't! i wasn't…! i don't know what you're talking about!… hmm.. oh yeah, well maybe…"
and i was happy to see… to see…
nothing else really
oh yeah, my personal shopper. he was itching to go shopping again. i have seen him nearly every 2 weeks for the last 5 months. he has helped out a lot with all the things i probably do need but can't be fucked buying because i don't think i really need those shoes, or those jeans that make my ass look hot, or that new bag...
"so are you excited about the iphone 5?" he would ask almost every time we went shopping.
"meh… i guess." his eyes would sparkle and i'd rethink my answer, "yeah would be great to get one."
the excitement didn't die down when the iphone 5 was downgraded to just the 4S
"so do you want one?"
"yeah sure," i said never thinking he would really get me one until i got a text asking what colour i wanted. i said 'white' because it's getting a bit annoying confusing a friends phone for my own. or even worse, as i did once, accidentally walking out from a job and turning up to the next job with the previous client's iphone in my hand instead of my own.
"white?" Elk sniggered inwardly in that subdued disapproving way. it's a face that reveals nothing of his true opinion. but if you put a little pressure on him (i.e. remain silent and raise an suspicious eyebrow) he will crack. he did. he laughed. "white. hmm.. okay…"
"yeah. fuck what am i? a 16 year old asian girl?" i quickly texted my shopper back and asked for black.
i saw him 2 days later. he excitedly handed it over. i was excited to get it (partly because i had been such a fucking smug little cunt the last 24 hours declaring, "oh is a new iphone coming out? well guess who's getting one tomorrow?" and i would point to me if they were too dumb to figure out that i meant me)
he had taken the day off work and cued at the apple store at 5am to get one. just one. for me. not for himself.
"now you wanna go shopping for iphone accessories?"
"fuck yeah i do!"
Monday 12 December 2011
the man who taught his asshole to talk
"Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk?"
i wish i had spoken to more than one gay man about the side effects of steroids before using them. everybody has heard of 'roid rage. thankfully, i never got that. if anything it made me calmer, happier and less aggressive.
appetite increased also. and with that so did flatulence. that started with a bang. many bangs. not polite squeakers, mind you, explosions every few minutes. they were nothing you could suppress or release on the sly should you be trapped in the company of others. these were farts were loud and musical. an orchestra. my bowels were a walking brass section - bronzed, polished and proud. they seemed harmless at first and were mostly humorous, if only to me. little did i know these were not farts as all, but the first breaths of a new life...
"…His whole abdomen would move up and down, you dig. farting out the words. It was unlike anything I ever heard. This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell…"
the third new side effect of the cycle was sex drive
"your libido will be out of control." was what my trainer said
my libido already was out of control. it's been out of control since my mid 20s. so initially the hormones seemed to make little difference. now i'm in Darlinghurst for 3 weeks where there is available cock strutting up and down the streets 24/7 i can finally be satisfied. but something happened that i was not aware of - i'm normally, and mostly, a top but now i just wanted to get fucked up the ass. all the time. non-stop. cocks. every angle. the harder the better. pounding my guts. splitting me in two
"...to start with it was like a novelty…"
the feeling crept up on me so slowly i didn't notice. it was my second weekend in Sydney. i was at this guy's apartment. he lived in the building i used to live in 4 years ago. identical apartment only a few floors up so the situation was weird to begin with. the man had a big weekend and this was his way to finished it. we were getting nasty in the bedroom and i was fucking him pretty hard so it came as no surprise when things got a little fudgey. we cleaned up and showered and continued
"i wanna eat your arse," he said. who am i to deny? i rolled on all fours and with the right contrast of smooth tongue and rough stubble i was pushing back like a battering ram busting through the castle gates - ass first. "i wanna fuck you," he said
"then fuckin' do it already!" i growled. "woah, where did that come from?"i thought for a moment. anyway, he did fuck me and i was loving it… to a point. he was plodding away. i was on my back while he holding my legs in the air by the ankles. "harder," i said. maybe i didn't say it loud enough. "harder!"
he looked at me but nothing changed. he was looking down at me and was just enjoying the view, i guess. don't get me wrong. it was good. i just wanted more. and i wanted it now!
"fuck me harder!" and i threw my clenched fist into his chest. no reaction. "fuck me harder!" i growled. no change. my grunting had gotten out of control and now, so was i. my arm shot out and grabbed him by the throat. "i said FUCK ME HARDER!" still nothing changed. then my other hand reached out and grabbed him. with both my hands closed around his throat i boomed "fuck me harder, faggot! fuck me!!!" all i could see was the whites of his eyes as i choked him, pulling on his neck and thrusting my ass up into him. "fucking smash it, cunt! fucking…" i don't know what i was saying from here on. spitting out obscenities and frothing at the mouth. i was possessed by some ass demon. i was rabid.
he froze as he watched me fuck myself up into him. i think he was in shock. i didn't care. i had reached boiling point. "oh fuck this!" and i threw him face down on the bed and used all my weight on the back of his neck to hold him still while i pulled a rubber on. "this is how it's done! fuck me like this, you fucking pussy!" and i slammed my cock into him. i was banging away like a madman
"what are you doing?" i said to myself, "this is a client." and i thought for a second. "oh shit! this is a client! oh fuck! calm down, boy. this isn't a hook up. this is a job!" and here i was raping some guys ass. i flipped him over and blew all over his face. he lay there choking on my load, rubbing his own load out.
i collapsed on the bed. when the client caught his breath he gurgled, "that was intense. woah… and i think you might be a power bottom."
what was happening to me? what have i become?
for the next week. i just wanted to be fucked. you endlessly hear about cities with a major gay population having nothing but bottoms. "where are all the tops!?!" the old queens shout. i don't know what they are talking about. i find them so easily. i think if you look like a bottom then many guys aren't interested. there's no challenge when they're screaming "i am the weakest baboon of all!" since guys want something they can't have, my ass gets hit on a lot because they assume i will say no. now i was saying yes. so i got banged left, right and centre. upside down. inside out. bashed in backrooms. slammed on staircases. i was spitting on them. throwing punches. demanding they fuck me harder. growling like the devil himself was inside me. it was inside me. it was part of me. my ass was becoming conscious
"oh yeah," said Grant, a wise old gay owl and regular customer at Signal, "for a drug that is supposed to make you more masculine, it totally feminises you. you just become one big bottom."
"why you didn't you tell me this a month ago?"
my ass was out of control. out of my control. it was controlling me. morning. afternoon. night. i wake up after a few hours sleep i'd wake up, turn on grindr and get another one.
i was no longer human. i was just one big bottom. this terror from within had a grip on me. it was insatiable. my arse hairs grew like tentacoli. while i slept these blonde tentacles were sweeping the streets and back alleys. peeking through bedroom windows and over-turning garbage bins at night for lost and lonely erections. devouring the flesh of any man foolish to stay in their path
" ...Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him: “It’s you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat and shit.”…"
one poor sod had the life frightened out of him. he was one of those men blessed with a 10 inch dick but would endlessly complain about it being a curse and too big for many guys to take. "aww, my heart bleeds," i said, "suck it up princess if that's your biggest problem in life then you've a got a pretty sweet life." maybe that wasn't the best way to start a hook up, but i just wanted to get down to business. after some struggling and screaming i finally got that all the way to the base on that 10 inch dick.
it was intense. i was growling, laughing, crying and yelling indecipherable obscenities all at once. demons. running all through me. talking in tongues. then i snapped again. i was on top riding that damn bull when i grabbed him by the throat with one hand and drew back my other into a fist shouting "YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNT!!!" all i saw was the terrified whites of his eye just before he tried to turn away his head to avoid my striking fist. luckily, i pulled my fist to a halt inches from his face.
the rest of the afternoon involved his hand shoved over my frothing mouth, then him holding a pillow of my face. my growling climax was so loud the neighbours' dogs were barking back at me. "i'm in melbourne next month. i'll look you up," he said. thankfully, this was not a client, yet unsurprisingly, due to my bad manners, i have never heard back from him.
"….After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpole’s tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over…"
at the end of the 3 weeks my ass had totally consumed me. i could not move. i could not walk. no gym. no movement. i could only lay on the couch and chat on grindr and scruff. my time was nearly up. Sydney had worn me down, hollowed me out, i was nothing but a shell of a man. not even a man. just a big hollow bottom. you could toss a penny inside my rectum and you never hear it reach the end. finally, on the last day as i packed my bags and prepared myself to return to melbourne and the mostly mediocre sex that happens there, i decided to have one final hook up
the Gorilla was a hot man in his 40s and a really cool guy too. i had fooled around a few times before in a back room toilet. that's not an easy feat when he is one huge hulk of lebanese muscle. now that there was the opportunity to meet at his place i was there in a heartbeat. we played around a little bit then he asked: "you don't take it, do you?"
"Gorilla," i said feeling the size of his huge cock in my hands. i'm sure we both heard the sound of the tiny bones in my hand being crushed under it's weight. i mustered the courage, i mustered up the courage? no, it wasn't me speaking anymore... and a voice from within me answered: "today. i will cop it."
and i did. i got banged like the dirty whore i am. we were so rough rubber after rubber kept breaking
"i think i'm out of condoms,"
"i got more in my bag," i said neither of us moved, "it's all the way out in your hallway."
"you clean?" the Gorilla huffed
"yeah. you?"
"sure am."
"alright. let's go."
not the most in-depth discussion one could have about one's HIV status and making the decision to not use protection but the basics were covered. my ass was speaking for me now. i'm not even sure my lips moved, the ones on my face anyway. now that we were fucking raw it turned even nastier. i was kicking. screaming. kicking and writhing underneath his patented 'helicopter' move. yelling "you fucking cunt! CUNT!!!!" while punching his chest. most of my behaviour he laughed off, but when i got too much and he wanted a five minute break he'd just throw his full weight on me and hold me there. i had no choice but to calm down. 120kg of muscle is very persuasive
"what's wrong, pussycat? did i wear you out?"
"no!" muffled face down in the bed i growled. the sheets wet with my spit, "i can take it!"
"what's that? awww… can't you take anymore?"
i lifted my head, "fuck off, i can take more," my hips were throwing back up into him. i was grunting like a wild boar and pushing back so hard it raised the bulk of him up off the bed, "and DON'T FUCKING CALL ME PUSSYCAT!" the violence started all over again
2 hours later we were an exhausted heap of sweaty meat. my hole had been bred twice. i lay face down on the Gorilla's chest. my ass in the air. abused and battered, so when the breeze from the window blew across the wide gaping chasm that was once my asshole it made a deep humming sound not unlike that of an oboe
hours later i was on the plane back to melbourne. i had said almost nothing the whole time. was it because my mouth had completely sealed over? was it because i was finally satisfied? i was well fed before the flight, both my stomach and my greedy ass, so either way, i was silent.
well, almost. what was the third side effect again? flatulence. that's okay. i could let it rip. i was on a plane. the noisy engines would cover the sound and the air con will whisk away the stench before the people around me knew. so i did. i let a fart so forceful you may not have heard it, but the seat vibrated with such vigour the movement tickled my balls. the second it ripped out of me i knew i should not have let this one out. my eyes widened in terror. "that's not dry!"i gasped silently "that was wet! sweet jesus, that fart was wet!" i panicked but i could smell nothing. i soon calmed knowing that i did not shit myself. my pants were not full of poop. it was jizz. the Gorilla's load of manchowder from earlier today. i could do nothing but sit the rest of the flight while a bucket of white baby gravy thickened and congealed in my jocks. i would not go to the bathroom now. it's too late. i can cover the wet patches with my backpack when i disembark this aircraft. so i admitted defeat and rest my head against the window
i cried a little bit, but i mostly laughed. it was my baby's first word. that word may have been "ppffbloomp!" but my asshole had begun to talk. talk all on it's own. i felt a sense of pride and defeat as i pass my life onto my ass. as it grows and strengthens, soon it's speech will form sentences. it will sing songs, write and recite poetry all on it's own. it will be at the heart of many a dinner party conversation entertaining folk who have travelled far and wide just to dine with my talking ass. they won't come to see me. it has no use for me anymore. what will become of me?
"...the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous except for the eyes, you dig. Thats one thing the asshole couldn’t do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eyes on the end of a stalk."
Sunday 11 December 2011
Thursday 8 December 2011
Tuesday 6 December 2011
breaking the rules - redrum
you know how i've said before to say nothing? no. well, i did. don't express an opinion. you don't want to have an argument
Sam is a burly little cub in Sydney. he's the modern geek - shy nerdy quiet type but extremely set in his opinions on unimportant things. things like the free flowing analogue recording of an LP is far superior the digital recording of a cd. yeah it may be true but who gives a fuck.
i'm pretty much the same. i'm an opinonated fuck. i just don't have the IT job during the day.
i've seen Sam many times over the last couple of years and it's always good to catch up with him. i like them meaty and hairy so he's a good looking kid. i was pleased to see he cropped his greasy hipster hair and grew a beard. "i've just been too lazy to shave." he said. the sex is good. he's learning to relax and enjoy the moment and not worry about the other person. it's good to be attentive but always enjoy your end of the deal, i can take care of myself. he's got a big cock and loves to fuck. he's going to make some man very happy one day
we usually chat afterwards and this night i was extra chatty after a boring 8 hour shift at work. we tend to agree or agree to disagree on most music, books and films. then he said this: "Eyes Wide Shut was my no means his worst film. it was pretty good. much better than that Stephen King thing he did."
my lips shrank, tightened and they turned white "what?"
"um… what was it. with Jack Nicholson. terrible."
my pupils flared as my eyes squinted, "what!?!"
"The Shining. that was awful. awful movie."
that was it. i'd heard enough. "get the fuck out of my apartment!"
"did you like it? it was shit. over acted. hammy. boring! nothing happened just a kid wheeling around on ugly carpet"
"oh fuck off!" gone was my rule of expressing an opinion. tonight i was shouting them. "the tension. the creepy building. that triply carpet. the symmetry of every frame! and it was not over acted! Jack was a perfect portrayal of my father in one of his weekly violent schizo explosions! and before you say anything else you better hope those schizo explosions aren't hereditary."
"King wrote a brilliant novel-"
"King is a fucking no talent hack! he uses the same characters in every book. the writer! the recovering whatever needing redemption! the slut! the cotton picking' black guy! a retard! the wise old black woman or man! a freaky psychic kid-"
"and Kubrik stripped it down to nothing and it made no sense. nothing happened. shit is happening all through the book but the film. nothing!"
"Kubrik stripped it down to the important elements-"
"he took out the gangsters. the blah blah blah…" i stopped listening. then he said it. "the tv movie was better!"
"OH!" i spat, "YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! the only good thing about that 6 hour slice of shit was Rebecca DeMornay getting punch in the guts. that version was fucking woeful! now get out. seriously! get the fuck out! now!"
i threw him out and pretended i was making a joke of it. but i was dead fucking serious! no praising of Stephen King. not under my roof! ever!
Monday 5 December 2011
amen (in the bathroom)
are you here to screw or are you here to screw me over?
it was like any other job. a nice sweet guy in an inner city suburb. he just wants a hot blokey man. nothing too heavy. no anal. he just wanted to suck a nice big dick ...fuck knows why he called me
he just wanted me to lie back on the bed while he sucked my dick. he'd rub the hair on my chest and look up, smile and say stuff like "you're a beautiful man."
i would smile, giggle a bit as compliments from people i barely know make me nervous, and say "thanks"
after it was over we lay back on the bed. again, i awoke to the sound of my own snoring. he thought it was cute and laughed. i jumped up and went to shower
normally when using a clients bathroom there are three things to look out for:
a) even with some very clear directions, navigating yourself to the bathroom in someone else's home for the first time can be difficult. try not wander through their house opening random doors trying to find the fucking thing. you don't want them to think you're going to fleece them of their possessions, be casing the joint to burgle them at a later time or, even worse, have them think you're some dumb fuck who can't find the bathroom
b) once you are in the shower, if you have a problem with soap, you will find yourself foraging through the junk in that little enclosure to find the body wash amongst the sea of near-empty bottles of shampoo and conditioner. many guys stack so many bottles together that you second you grab one you accidentally knock that bottle against another. that bottle knocks another and before you know it you have triggered a domino effect. one by one the surrounding bottles tumble over making one hell of a racquet. soon you're kicking the damn things around the shower trying to pick the fuckers up and stack them without slipping over
c) if you are just using the toilet, try to avoid/ignore the not-quite-flushed poo lurking in the bottom of the toilet bowl. like a timid little mouse it just peeks around the s-bend up at you hiding in the brown halo that has formed during time it has sat there - usually 2 minutes before i arrived. don't be shocked by what may appear to be a lack of hygene, some shitters just don't flush very well and some turd are just stubborn little buggers. so just ignore it
i didn't run into any of these issues this time. but this man's bathroom was different. this room was full of handmade posters and signs he had made himself. on each sign he had written words and slogans of positive reinforcement. his strengths. his achievements. his goals. his dreams and his hopes for the future.
although it's a very useful technique to reinforce something (while studying Russian language i painted one wall of my bedroom with the Cyrillic alphabet), but i found this a little creepy. a little brainwashing. a little cult-like. everywhere i looked i could't avoid it. it felt like this man's voice was constantly reaffirming the positive aspects of his life to drown out the negativities that nag him and overwhelm him. one wall was a collage of pictures of cities and wonders of the world cut from magazines. scattered amongst the landmarks were pictures of fit and muscled underwear models. this was his ideal boyfriend.
when he called to see me a second time. i had reservations, but i did the job anyway. he was overjoyed. but three days later he wanted to see me again on my days in Sydney. i declined. i didn't think it was healthy that he see me again so soon. i don't know his history but it seemed like there might be some instability there. i don't want to exploit someones vulnerability.
people say a fool and his money are soon parted. though this man is not a fool and it would be a cunt of a person to take advantage of someone.
i'm just here to screw you. i'm not here to screw you over
falling joys : amen
Sunday 4 December 2011
thank god i'm a cuntry boy
while tramping it up between jobs i arranged a hook up with Kevin. a big solid lad. great guy. hot arse. a country boy. he's friendly. great to hang out with. always keen to hang out again. overly keen actually… way too keen… then annoyingly keen.
Remind Me from Röyksopp on Vimeo.
i've been here before. everything about his behaviour, mannerisms and even speech reminded me of my ex. he even looked a little like him. it scared the hell out of me
it sucks when you meet someone and suddenly so many things about them, from physical features to movement and speech, can remind you of someone else - someone you don't want to be reminded of. you don't even get to know this new person because when you look at them all you see is someone you already know. their faults. the hurdles. the issues
why am i saying 'you'? i have no idea if this happens to anyone else. does this happen to anyone else?
i tell Kevin nothing and keep him at a distance. we'd train together a few times but no more hanky panky
"that guy keeps staring at us," Kevin pointed out at the gym
"ahh yeah well...," i released the tricep pushdown with the usual grunt, "you're hot. you know what it's like being one of the beautiful people." i was more interested in massaging my own vanity with these pumped arms than whether some guy was staring at us
"i'm not hot."
i put my exhausted hands on my hips and screwed my sweaty face up in confusion, "eh?"
"i don't think i'm hot."
"but you think i am?" i asked. he nodded. "if i'm hot, you reckon i'd fuck an ugly cunt? no. i wouldn't." just as well were at the gym. we have some work to do on that self-image. "and i'm not hot. i'm ruggedly handsome," i said lifting up my sweaty wifebeater and pouted my lips while sensually rubbing my exposed hairy belly.
i think i farted then too
Monday 28 November 2011
becoming a man
ever since i was a little boy i didn't want to grow up to be a man
men were arseholes. men behaved like wild animals. men ate like pigs. they were selfish bastards who satisfied nothing but themselves. uncaring, violent and angry. bad lovers who take what they want, dump their load then roll over and go to sleep
my father was the perfect role model of what role not to model myself on. he was a cunt and did nothing but reinforce the opinion of men i had grown up with.
i was determined not to be one of them
as a teenager growing up in the 90s you moved with the trends. grunge was easy to adopt - the white kid's revolt against their middle class upbringing. being a poor kid the grunge fashion was easy to adopt. i already ready wore shitty clothes. there was no irony in my ironic t-shirt, it was just the crap i ended up with.
then punk in the mid-90s because of the fucking incredible music. shorter. faster. louder. hopefully with a message. if i was going to be a man, then i would be educated and i would be different. i can't stop being an angry young man but i would use my angry powers for good. i attended protests. i loudly defended the the weak, the oppressed, the minorities.
"i'll never call it Uluru," my grandfather said over the dining table, "it will always be Ayer's Rock to me."
"are you fucking kidding me!?!" that breakfast had been quite a calm affair until i threw down my spoon in a tantrum and tore into my 'white invasion of 1788' rant.
of course i wasn't always sympathetic. some radical feminism had worn me down. "dead men don't rape" a widely used slogan that was disappointing because they're admitting they had just given up on their cause altogether and resorted to threats
so the front was "dead men don't rape" and on the back was "dead women can't cry rape". it was not a very popular shirt, but i wore it around my hometown for a few weeks much to the anger of the local yokels.
as i got older, in my late 20s i learned being the sensitive male means fuck all. it gets you nowhere. women are still attracted to arseholes and nice guys get fucked over just as much as the mean ones mamma warned me about.
now in my early 30s i discover that's not what anyone wants anyway. they want the rough mean son of a bitch that occasionally shows a bit of kindness but really treats them like shit most of the time.
especially gay men.
when i started as a manwhore i was conscientious, agreeable and kind. i wasn't screwing them for extra charges and i treated the job (and them) like a genuine business. now, 17 years later into being a cock-for-hire, i've learned men want to be treated like shit. they want to be used. they want to think you're screwing them then pissing off and blowing all your cash on crack
i was fucking a client. he likes to be slamfucked so now i've hit 100kgs i can slamfucked him until his ass caves in. i did. i slammed him. i blew. in a pool of sweat i slid off of him and rolled onto my back. he loves hair men so he curled up into my armpit and started sucking on my beard and grooming it. i closed my eye to enjoy it then heard this horrific noise, like a walrus choking on a penguin, and my eyes snapped open. suddenly the client was sitting on the other side of me
what the fuck happened? my eyes were a bit squinty and my teeth were a bit numb, sure signs that i had fallen asleep. therefore that horrific noise was me, snoring.
"did i fall asleep?" he nodded. "oh. i wasn't asleep for long was i?"
"well…" he looked at the bedside clock. i was afraid to look. "rest if you need to."
so through my work i begun to give them what they wanted, and in turn, learned that carrying that into my private works a charm. i have become an arsehole.
when i go out i behave like a wild animal. i stand pissing in full view of everybody i've begun drunkenly swearing at and men flock to me like whores to a crackpipe
as i get older and bigger and jab steroids in my bum i eat like a pig. the client request i be a violent, angry and uncaring. a sexist racist selfish bastard who fucks them, satisfies himself and leaves
now, and this is definitely due to the drugs and weight gain, i fuck like a machine, blow my load then roll over and go to sleep. in the following weeks i did this 4 more times - falling asleep on clients then waking up to the sound of my own snoring. they loved it. they thought it was so hot that they just got their arse pummelled by a pig of a man who fucked them like a bitch then rolled over and went to sleep
i have made it now. i have become a man
i was gonna post Propagandhi's Refuse to be a man, but i like this track better. doesn't the voice of Noam Chomsky just get you all wet inside?
Sunday 27 November 2011
Friday 25 November 2011
gays of christmas past, present and future
i had to join a gym while i was gonna be in town and lose everything i'd been painfully sticking needles in my arse to gain. naturally i'm a lazy cunt and joined the closest gym - Fitness First @ King's Cross
everyone knows Fitness First are cunts. absolute money grubbing cunts. still, i joined them. a sparsely fitted gym with new yet poorly maintained equipment where the handles peeled off machines that were falling apart. the music is fucking awful - cheap dance tracks with adverts jammed in every 5 minutes.
the only positive about this place is the view. you get to work out looking out over King's Cross and see the Harbour and Bridge in the distance. far better than the view inside the gym - nothing but cruising homosexuals that either stare like a deer in your headlights or quickly dart away pretending they were never looking in the first place. there was the occasional 'roid monkey, but this was a gym for people to be pretty.
it was full of the pretty gays. because this used to be my area when i lived in sydney up until 18 months ago i knew all these faces. this gym was a reminder of every man i had rejected and every man that had rejected me in the past 10 years of living in Sydney. the gay ghosts of christmas pasts haunting me over the bench press.
the main difference now was i was much bigger and much meaner looking than before. so those who had rejected me were now keen. though time had not been kind to some and i was no longer interested, to the others i would simply hold a grudge. "you know what, you had your chance…"
however, if they were hot...
the only exciting thing that happened was having a porn star in the house one day. Erik Rhodes (or James, if you read his really funny blog) was in Sydney doing a few shows over the big gay weekend. he is 6' and half million feet tall with really rosy cheeks so he stands out. he was working alone with everyone else playing it cool. but the moment he turned his back the girls would start flapping "oh my god! oh my god! oh my god! ooh!"
it was funny and kind of sad to watch. i'm not sure why they didn't have the balls to go up and say hi, instead pretending it was nothing special. my friend that i was training with eventually noticed, pointed and gasped "oh my god that's that porn star! i wank off to him all the time!"
i looked over to James who had seen my friend point, but before i could give an embarrassed smile and nod a simple 'hi' by means of an apology for my friends slightly uncool outburst, he looked away and got back into the exercise. i wanted to say 'hi' and not mention the porn but instead say something about his fucking hilarious blog (that i hope is him taking the piss out of himself. maybe he is that clever?). there's some great music on there as well that adds some cred to the typical gay-ass dance tracks
http://erikrhodes.blogspot.com/
http://erikrhodes.tumblr.com/
Monday 21 November 2011
occupy - counting bodies like sheep
due to the recent 'Occupy' protests i've been a little obsessed with this track lately
i fully support the global Occupy movement even though i haven't been to a protest in almost a decade. the last attempt was joining the Slut Walk. but we missed it and stumbled into a beat instead. i got my cock sucked in the roomy disabled toilet so i guess i showed my support
what pisses me off is gay men supporting the police's brutal methods of removing the protesters who think they don't really have a right to be such a 'public nuisance'. gay men who seem to take for granted the comforts, equality laws and rights they now have that were fought for by smelly loud immature lazy protesters over 30 years ago
some americans don't even realise it's a global movement with protests happening in many countries. no doubt portrayed in the media as a freak minority of whiny uni students and makes me think back to this song and cute little video
WHORE OFF!!!
not all jobs are sunshine lollipops and rainbows. sometimes you even get hired by other escorts. that can be shaky territory.
are they just seeing how you operate?
are they trying to score some tips?
are they checking out the best in town? well, fuck, of course…
some will be up front and tell you they're an escort form the beginning (and sometimes want to 'exchange' services). some will wait until the end. some probably won't say it at all
"i get hired by other masseurs," my friend said yesterday as we sat sitting in the sun by the pool. two manwhores kicking back by the local pool on a wednesday lunchtime while all the other suckers are in their 9 to 5 jobs. "sometimes they want to exchange massages. they give me a massage first, then i give them back an equal or a really crap massage. crap by my standards. i'm not giving away my secrets!"
i was hired by another escort in Sydney. i tell him i only accept cash and that i will see him in 2 hours. i was skeptical, not because he was an escort, but because in all his emails and texts his spelling was fucking atrocious. missing letters. missing words. sentences making no sense at all. this all equals one thing - crackhead
still it was a daytime job not far from where i was staying. i get to the hotel. 2 minutes before i get to the elevators he send a text. "i wasn't able to get the cash yet. can we cancel or postpone for later."
"no. i am already at the hotel. i can't alter my plans."
i have his room number, but unfortunately i need a card for the lift or get reception to buzz me up by calling the room.
"give me your bank details and will transfer the money into your account."
sure. i am going to text my bank details to someone, then trust them to be true to their word and pay up? not fucking likely. there's a tedious exchange of more messages - angry texts from me demanding he answer his phone - indecipherable texts from him
so what do you do when you get fucked over? although prostitution isn't illegal in Australia, it's not like i can call the cops and demand he cough up money. it's not like i have any right to get him to pay on the basis of a verbal agreement. so what do you do? do you suck it up, avoid a confrontation and just dismiss the inconvenience? do make a confrontation, teach the cunt a lesson and hope he'll never do it again, or worse, make trouble for you in the future?
i choose confrontation for $250, thanks Mr Trebek
i decide to be own hired goon. i straightened my shirt, tear up a smile and chat up some old ladies in the lift area, "oh, after you madame… mademoiselle " they blush and swipe their cards and from memory any card can get you to any floor of this hotel
i knock on the door of room 432. i hear shuffling inside and it abruptly stops. i knock again and he shuts the music off
"i can hear you. open the fucking door."
he shuffles a little bit more then opens the door and pretends there is nothing wrong and invites me in.
"okay. so what are your bank details. i can transfer the cash for you later." he sits down at his desk and looks up at me with expectant but wild chem-crazy eyes.
he is very different from his profile claiming to be an 'aussie bloke' with all the pics of him in footy shorts. with none of the musculature of his pictures and none of the masculinity he claims to posses he skulks around the hotel room like and effeminate and emaciated version of the singer from the Pet Shop Boys. he's fucking rotten and abides by the look of an early 90s gay. no doubt from the meth, he's so thin and sickly looking you question if he's barely two T-cells to rub together
"no. you will give me cash. you had hours of warning and you leave it too late to cancel."
"i have a new credit card. i don't have the PIN yet. so i couldn't use the car at an ATM. i had get to a branch to activate it-"
"there's one around the corner on the next block"
"that's too far! i'm not going that far! i'm too wired! i'll call the front desk and see if they'll give me a cash advance on my card." he calls them. unsurprisingly they decline. "i have the money. i'll transfer it into your account later."
with each response i would lean in. considerable taller and meatier and heavier. i was slowly pushing the intimidation. "i'm not giving you bank details and no one is foolish enough to believe a cracked out hooker is going to stick to his word and transfer money." i leaned over the desk
"why don't you believe me? money is no problem for me. i have the money. you can see i'm in a $400 a night hotel. i'm a very successful escort, thank you! i made thousands on a job last night alone."
"you're a very successful hooker and yet you have no cash on you. no cash at all." i slowly moved around the desk to tower over him. "i don't want the full fee for the hour. all i want is $20 for the cab fare. you don't have $20"
"yeah that's right."
remember my tips from months ago - say nothing. depending on the situation people will either assume the best or the worst. in this case, looking up between my newly acquired set of meaty hairy disco-tits, he feared the worst. if only gynocomastia had settled in i could have roughed him up with a little man-boob motor-boating as well
"i'll get dressed and you can come with me to the bank and get you your money." he sprung up and got dressed, bitching and rambling about trust. he was trying to bait me now. he was trying to start an argument.
i stood back and folded my arms. "damn, nigger! you're arms look big in this t-shirt! all the better to intimidate this crackhead, my dear…" i thought as he blabbered on. he baited. baited and baited. he was now completely dressed and grabbed his wallet. then stood there. i raised one eyebrow "well," it said, "come on. let's go."
"you know, i don't like your attitude! forget it! i'm not giving you any money at all!"
seems to me like we got a good ol' fashioned whore-off happening. WHORE OFF!!!
that's when i tore in and stomped towards him "no shit motherfucker! you're so fucking cracked out of your mind you think your bullshit is convincing. no one is that fucking dumb! your scrawny boney little ass was NEVER were going to cough up any money at all!"
he sat back down at the desk to emphasise he was not going to go anywhere. "how long have you been an escort for?"
"17 years. since i was a teenager" i think he was expecting me to say a month or two. "you?"
"i've been doing it for 5 years now. i think you really need to learn how to trust and treat people with respect"
"respect? you're going to lecture me an courtesy and respect?"
"i'm calling security!" he dashed over and picked up the phone receiver "yeah his i need security to my room. i have trouble with someone who won't leave my room." he put the phone down. his boney little fingers twitching a little with the pressure of the situation. when i didn't move, this time he raised his gay plucked eyebrows expecting my to leave
i charged in to lean overt the table to call his bluff. "you didn't call anyone! you didn't press the fucking button to speak to reception! you dump fuck!" he said nothing. i looked at the time. it was now ten minutes past the hour. i backed down. lowered my voice and smiled a little "right. that's 10 minutes. it took me 10 minutes to get to this hotel and i've now inconvenienced you for 10 minutes. that's all i wanted." i smiled and turned to walk out "oh," i reached into the mini bar and grabbed a hand full of the cute little bottles of belvedere vodka
"i don't care take them all! money is no problem for me!" he shouted
2 weeks later toward the end of my stay in Sydney i got an email from that same escort. "hey mate. keen hire you for an hour or two?"
Saturday 19 November 2011
"i'd rape that!"
it was now week 3 on the juice. the first 2 weeks had turned me into a sloth. i could eat. i could train. then i'd sleep 18 hours a day
"your body is growing. you need rest"
grow it did and with the help of a little water retention i gained 4Kgs in the first week. soon i could reach my goal of getting those meaty rolls of skin that over-sized muscle guys get on the back of their necks. i don't care what you think. i think it's hot. beefcake! BEEFCAKE!!!
i'd adjusted to the drugs. i'd adjusted to the weight gain. now i'd adjusted to being back in Sydney so now i was free to enjoy the side effect of steroids every man loves - rampant out of control libido. Sydney, and more specifically the suburb of Darlinghurst, is the perfect place to unleash the dogs
going out is always an unsuccessful way for me to pick up. i just want to have fun with my mates. i can't multitask. so most of the picking up was on Grindr and, more successfully, Scruff. normally being polite and slowly engaging in a little conversation seems the best way to work your way into a hook up. however, Sydney is blunt. therefore i will be too. "hot. wanna fuck?" is a little tacky if not a little trite. i prefer a little flattery with a smattering of shock.
my pick up line : "I'd rape that"
to my surprise it was immensely successful. there's nothing like the threat of violence to win a man's heart. it's not only sexual violence that is the appeal, but he gets to relax. there's no need to impress or engage in chit-chat. they are relieved of all responsibility, completely. not just responsibility but also choice. all they have to do is get treated like a piece of meat. and maybe whimper a little for my benefit. i like it when they cry a little bit. i really do
this is where men differ greatly from women. most men don't really have to live in fear of being a victim of a violent sexual crime. sure it happens a lot more to men than any statistic would show. due to the embarrassing and emasculating nature of the crime many male-on-male rape causes would go unreported. though many gay men fantasise about it. even some of those who have been the victims of rape in the past still fantasise and wish to experience it again. a good 25% of my work is rape fantasies, abuse and domination. it's something i enjoy
yes. it makes me feel like a man. i real cunt of a man. and i love it!
i don't intentionally want to hurt someone beyond what they could handle. the human body is quite tough and resilient, pay a little attention and you can se how far someone wants to be pushed. there's nothing like overpowering a guy and forcing to his knees. smacking that dirty cock sucker across the face and variations in pitch you get depending on how wide open their mouth is. the gagging. the choking. that good slimy spit you get from really jamming your cock way to far down their throat. the spit that never quite dries up and you use it as lube to fuck them.
when you do fuck them, both hands tight around their throat and throwing them down on your cock, over and over. or my favourite now i'm bigger, holding them facedown in a half-nelson, the other arm around their throat while you drill the fuck out of their ass - they can't breathe let alone say stop. bite them on the nape of their neck if they don't keep still. when i've dumped my load, don't let them get up, squeeze them in a bear hug and crush them with my 100kg
see. i'm a sensitive man deep down. i always cuddle a little at the end :)
try it yourself!
Friday 18 November 2011
a load of Bull
i had to dig into work. it was still my first week in town and you have to grab them while your fresh. the client wants a stud. they don't want slops. so the longer you're in town the more they are likely to lose interest
i also decided to say 'yes' to every job. no matter how close they were. knock 'em out. some may cancel anyway, but once you get a rhythm going it's great. one after the other. a production line. it's sounds bad, but if you're psyched up for it it's quite easy and if all goes well you do a far better job. i get so stirred up that i tear into each one with more passion than i would if they were spaced 2 hours apart. in those 2 hours i;d get hungry. or bored. or i'd see a dog with a puffy tail and forget what it was i was supposed to be doing
today was a sweet old guy i'd seen before. has a partner of many years who i have also had as a client. he tells me this and i pretend to have not drawn the connection between the two of them before.
we get into it. it's going fine. then things get a bit messy. we stop. he cleans up. we get back into it. things get messy again. he cleans up. he apologises and that's fine. i'm pretty tolerant. you're packing fudge all day you have to expect some casualties. i've heard of other escort being total princesses when they unwittingly unwrap a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, some ending the session completely or one tranny i knew would fine them $50. i allow 3 strikes before it's over. unless it smells. the sight i can tolerate but it's the smell of someone else's cookin' - that i can't stand
we get back into it yet again and i throw him down on his back and fucked the hell out of him in the hope of making him blow before he swings a that inevitable third strike. "oh yes! this amazing! you're a big man! you're a bull!"
"a what?"
"you're a bull. you're a bull of a man."
i had never heard that before and i dare say it's one of the best compliments i have ever had. it turned me on no end. if he wanted a bull. he will get one! i slammed the bejesus out of him. even when things got fudgey for a third time. i looked away. tried to wipe the sight of that weird mustard colour from my mind until he blew
then i carefully withdrew and, like a changing a baby's nappy, i held his ankles high in the air and wrapped the towel around his waist
"what?" he asked "what's wrong. is it..?"
"nothing. you don't need to know," i smiled, "just relax and get in the shower." no doubt he's more embarrassed by the unfortunate situation than i would be angry
things are all good. cleaned up and paid for he's out the door and i have 15 minutes to shower, brush my teeth, change sheets and air out the skank from the apartment.
the next guy i have never seen before. he called a few days ago and asked a lot of questions. first timer questions. very nervous and almost panicking. these guys need patience and someone to make them feel comfortable or no one is going to any fun
he turned up at the door. he was cute short stocky little guy in his business suit. he comes in breathing heavy and clinging nervously to a bottle of water.
"hey," i smile "how you doing?"
"hey. yeah. i'm good. yourself?" his eyes darting all over me but quickly jumping to somewhere else in the room. then back. then situation was too much and he'd look away again
"yeah. i'm alright. loving this beautiful sunny weather."
"yeah me too. is it okay if i cancel?"
"what?"
"is it okay of i cancel? can i cancel this appointment?"
"no. you're already here."
"really?"
"no. you can't cancel now"
"-i'm just not… i'm not…"
i speak low and calm and slowly. i even deepen my voice - a great way of commanding people to do what you want. "you were very definite on the phone about what you wanted. is it me? am i not what you expected?"
"no. i mean yes. i mean no you're hot. you're… you're really hot. i'm just…"
he was as nervous as hell. "come here." i take the bottle from his hand and lean in and wrap my arms around him. a hug calms anybody down. his breathing slows down as i pull his cheek onto my chest. "just relax. it's all good." in a few seconds he's calm and smiling. he slowly pulls away and look up and thanks me. everything was okay
then wham! he launches himself on me. arms grabbing at my chest and shoulders and cock before his water bottle even got a chance to hit the ground. "woah! easy!"
he pulls back. "ok. sorry." and he's as calm as a blue ocean. he unbottons his shirt. i take of him mine then WHAM! he leaps on me again!
i let him go for a bit then calm him down and we slowly undress. the second my cock is out he leaps again tearing at me like a tiger tearing the arm off a child stupid enough to reach into it's cage "ah fuck it!" i throw him down on the bed face down and attempt to massage him. i manage 30 seconds before he flips around touches my cock
"oh no!" he screams "this always happens with guys!" and he blows his load. i was a little disappointed because this could have been fun. so i roll him over and start massaging him. he calms down and starts talking. "sorry i haven;t done stuff with guys before. i just get so turned on by men. i just can't hold back. i'm engaged so i'm experimenting now while i can."
"umm… dude... maybe you should hold off getting married."
"well, i already live with my fiance. we've got it all planned. so…"
"yeah but i was married too, buddy," i stretched the truth a little, "i love her but it wasn't right. although she's more than fine with it now. it wasn't cool to do to her."
"oh really?"
"yeah. maybe you should figure things out before going any further."
surprisingly, a fair bit of this job is counselling. no, i'm not qualified but there things guys will tell me that they don't admit to anyone else. without giving any definite advice. my definite advice would be "what the fuck!?! don't ruin this chicks life because you're too embarrassed to admit you like cock!" but you have limited time. you can piss them off and you can't lecture them
the little guy was up, showered and out before i was going to offer him a discount (seeing as how he was there for a total of only 15 minutes). i went out and grabbed a coffee out in the sun. today i'd been a masseur, a counsillor, a butt-wiping nanny and a bull out to stud, i deserved a little fun of my own
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