Random Rim Jobs

I don’t think I’ve hidden my love of the uncut cock.  I love all cock, but probably because stupid Americans often have ideas about circumcision or lack thereof based solely on urban myth or outdated ideas, I feel I should champion the rights of the uncut cock.

I used to be one of those stupid Americans.  Well, I still am a stupid American, but not in the area of circumcision.  Not any more.  I had never seen an uncircumcised penis, and certainly hadn’t played with one, when I would espouse such ignorant ideas about uncut penises being dirty, having smegma, smelling, looking gross, and so on.  I was an asshole.

Eventually I fucked a guy who wasn’t circumcised.  And another, and another.  I realized that so long as the person has good hygiene that there’s nothing more dirty about an uncut cock versus a cut cock.  And uncut cocks are easier to give handjobs (though I admittedly lack skills in this area in general).  Then I fucked a few more guys who were uncircumcised, and then I married an uncircumcised cock.  Oh, I mean I married a man who had an uncircumcised cock.

I have been an anti-circumcision advocate for years.  No, not formally, but when the subject came up, and when people said things about uncut cocks being dirty, etc., I felt it my duty to educate the morons.  To be fair, most of the people were just ignorant, like I was in my teens.  Most of the time I was talking to women, and some men, who had never had relations with a penis in its natural state so I could always win the “it’s not clean” arguments with them.

But the stupidest arguments came from talking to people who said they would circumcise their theoretical future sons.  “So his penis looks like his father’s.”  How many father-son pairs bandy about their dicks, comparing notes?  And how many children don’t take, “That’s the way he is, and that’s the way you are; you are different” explanations from their parents?  Contrary to strict Freudians, children aren’t all that obsessed with their parents’ genitalia; they’re more concerned with their own.  I saw both my father’s penis and my mother’s muff (and vagina, but that’s a different story) when I was a kid and they both looked very different from what I had going on, which was explained to me by saying they were adults and I was a child.

Parents really need their children to look like them that much?  Then why don’t they go ahead and dye their hair, get them those nose jobs, provide them with liposuction?  Because kids’ hair tends to be lighter in color than their parents’, their noses cuter and more button-like, and their bodies chubbier.

Or how about the argument that little boys don’t know how to clean themselves properly?  Guess what, future parents?  You have to teach your children – boys and girls and innersexed – how to clean themselves.  Hygiene is important for all children to learn, not just girls because their inherently cleaner, which is utter bullshit anyway.  If a child can figure out how to clean a vulva including inside the labia majora, then a child can figure out how to clean a penis including underneath the foreskin.

Another lame argument I hear is that the incidence of sexually transmissible infections – HIV being the biggie – and certain forms of cancer are lower not only for the circumcised man, but also for his sexual partners.  While it’s laudable for a future parent to be concerned about her son’s health, isn’t it just a little creepy to be that involved in his future sex life?  So involved that you’ll cut off a part of his body now – without his consent – to prevent something that may or may not happen in the future?  To me that’s about as creepy as getting a preventative double mastectomy for your minor daughter because her aunt had breast cancer.

This last argument – lower incidence of STIs – is supported by our very own Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.  However, even the CDC admits that the various studies, especially regarding a much lower transmission of HIV in heterosexual men who were circumcised, were conducted in Sub-Saharan Africa, where education about HIV transmission and prevention is not widespread, where dry sex is commonly practiced, and where unprotected sex with sex workers is the norm.  Supposedly the survey of the studies controlled for all these factors, and that may be true, but provided parents raise their Western children (and everyone with whom I had these discussions was Western) properly, none of these things would be true.  Well-educated, privileged parents would teach their spoiled children about HIV/AIDS and other STIs, and how to use barrier methods for birth control and disease prevention when having relations with sex workers or anyone else.  Chances are the topic of dry sex would not even come up.

Of course I feel like I win each of these arguments with logic.  But my trump card is what actual doctors recommend for babies born in the US.  The American Academy of Pediatrics: Circumcision Policy Statement begins, “Existing scientific evidence demonstrates potential medical benefits of newborn male circumcision; however, these data are not sufficient to recommend routine neonatal circumcision.”  The AAP policy statement goes on to say that the potential benefits and risks of circumcision should be fully explained to parents, taking into account cultural and religious factors.

This is where I again call bullshit.  Really?  A man in the sky told people that cutting off part of their sons’ penises would mean they were chosen by Him and therefore special?  Maybe special because if they lived through such a procedure – considering the lack of sterilization, medication, etc., thousands of years ago – that would mean they were stronger than the boys who hadn’t had to endure such mutilation.  Because we all know there is no man in the sky.  And if there were would he really be all that into cock?  Wouldn’t he want to fuss with pussies too?  Oh, no, because God created man in his image.

So is God circumcised or not?

I swear.  True (logical) story.

[This is continued from Dick Cramden's "The Blues Club."]

The car ride to the hotel was quick. We didn’t speak a word. Instead, you cooed as I moved my hand between your thighs and slowly and gently rubbed my fingers over your panties. As we turned off the road into the hotel parking lot, your cooing had turned to soft moaning.

I helped you out of the car, and as you stood you backed me up against it and pulled my lips to yours. We each slipped a leg between the others thighs and began grinding our crotches against them. My hands slipped down your back and took hold of your supple ass. Kissing grew more passionate as we kissed each others’ neck, ears, throats, cheeks, eyelids.

Your hand slid from my shoulder, down my chest and grabbed my rock hard cock. You found the fly of my pants and pulled it down, and freed me from my boxers, giving me a few gentle, loving strokes. I moaned my thanks. Before I knew what was going on, you crouched down before me and took me into your mouth. Your tight wet lips pressed together as you pushed your face over the head. My back arched in pleasure and my shoulders rested against the car. Your hand firmly, but not tightly, gripped my shaft and pumped slowly as your head began to bob up and down, coating my penis with your saliva. Your hand was soon sliding easily over my tight skin as you continued to take more and more of me into your mouth.

Your hand left the shaft and I felt your lips slide further down on me than I had ever felt before. My cock was hot, and ready to burst. You gave my balls a gentle squeeze. Our eyes were locked as you continued to please me this way, and I noticed your hand working between your own legs, which pleased me that much more.

Then as suddenly as you started, you stopped, standing up and carefully putting me back into my drawers and zipping up my pants. You took your lipstick out of your pocket book and reapplied a slick coat to your wonderful lips. “Let’s go inside,” you whispered. What was I going to do, argue?

As we walked toward the revolving door of the hotel, I caught a glimpse of a couple sitting in a car not too far from where we had parked. They were in a good vantage point to have seen much of what we were up to. I couldn’t tell if they had, but a new excitement stirred within me. As we approached the front of the hotel, I glimpsed back to see the man, sitting in his seat with his head tilted back, mouth slack jawed. I couldn’t see the woman, but my guess was she was giving him head. This new excitement swelled.

[Don't worry, kids, there's more to come from Dick Cramden.]

This looks downright fun – both to watch and do.  A threesome with these two would be a lot of fun, too.  Her breasts look like they’d feel fabulous.  Her plain white panties and socks make her look sweet and innocent, but that thick cock in her pussy, not so much.  I don’t care what his face looks like because what I can see of him is just fine.  I love that they had to fuck so badly that he only had time to get his dick out and she didn’t have time to take those practical panties off.

I swear.  True (fantasy) story.

What I like about my particular lover who, ah, drinks tea, is that we’ve known each other for years and he lives not far; he’s always around, and he’s a great cook. His lovers put up drywall and tend to the yard, and he cooks.

I’m often just over at his place talking about some programming language or math or something and having a bit to eat. Or, I’m walking into the kitchen to see what he’s stirring, he turns a hug into his tongue down my throat, his hands on my ass, and my feet off the ground (he’s stronger than I). This takes me by surprise, but I can get his shirt off very quickly and push him against the counter when I have that kind of cue. Last time he did this he simply took my hand and led me upstairs where he proceeded to fuck me until I couldn’t see any more. He has a gorgeous cock and comes in a flash if I suck on his nipples, but he won’t let me – he holds that off, delays me until he gets me off…we battle over our agenda of getting the other to come first.

It’s rather cute. He’s from the south. Can turn on a great accent.

[This lovely bit was from a guest writer who sought me out, but not to be a guest writer here.  Nonetheless, this tidbit got me wet and I had to ask his permission to please let me share with y'all.  I wouldn't mind watching, not at all.]

I taught acting and musical theater for in Korea for three years. Mostly to kids, but one of my classes, twice a week, was an adult class for Koreans – mostly in their mid-twenties – who spoke various degrees of English. It was the first week of December and I was going to take my class of five out to dinner and drinks after class. That same day, two new students – a guy and a girl – signed up for the class.  They were friends, but not too close.  The girl spoke more English than the guy; both were talented, had good voices, and looked like they could be cast in soap operas.

After class, we all walked to the local Korean BBQ restaurant; the two new students had been invited to join. Along the way, I started chatting up the new girl, whom, I was starting to realize, had a pretty large rack under that tight sweater of hers.  She revealed to me that she LOVED to drink soju, and got drunk every night.

And, low and behold, by then end of the night, we were all drunk and ready to go.  The group went its separate ways.  I asked the girl if I could walk her to the bus stop. She said, “Absolutely,” (well, “Absorutetry,”) and we walked to the nearest one. It was cold and rainy, and as we faced each other, I asked if I could keep her warm.  She said ok and I slipped my hands around her, under her sweater in the back, feeling her soft skin and her bra. Boldly, as I talked to her about random shit, my hands slowly moved from under her shirt in the back, to under her shirt in the front. I started squeezing her breasts, neither one acknowledging what I was doing until finally, I grabbed her and kissed her.

As we kissed, her hips kept grinding against mine. I knew the people around at the bus stop were starting to watch. I whispered in her ear, “Let’s go somewhere private,” but all she could do was moan her affirmation and nod her head while she kissed me.  I pulled her by the hand and we went back to the main street. I knew exactly where we were going. I took her to Black Angus, which was below street level and had stairs leading down to the entrance.

We walked down the stairs and sat on a bench in front of the closed Black Angus.  People above on the street were still walking and talking, with us in a dark corner, just steps away. I sat on the bench, unzipped my pants, pulled it out and she pulled her pants down.  She turned around and sat on my lap with her back to me.  As I slipped inside her, she bounced up and down on my cock, moaning as she rode me.

A picked her up and put her on the bench, kneeling in front of me.  I stood behind her.  I took her hair in my hand and gave her ass a few nice slaps and started pounding her from behind.  She moaned and took it and didn’t mind as I pushed her face into the wall, her cheek pressed up against it as I kept nailing her.

Since we hadn’t had the foresight to use protection, when it was time to cum, there was nothing else to do, but pull out and finish on her face.

I took her back to the bus stop, sent her home and went back to my apartment for a well-deserved night of sleep.

Back when I used Craig’s List, I used it a lot.  I both placed ads and responded to ads.  One to which I responded was placed by a couple who wanted a lady to participate in threesomes with them.  Actually, I responded to several such ads.  This couple, however, I actually fucked.

The guy and I exchanged emails.  He told me they were a professional couple.  They all say they’re a “professional” couple.  Frankly, I don’t give a shit what the people I fuck do for a living, but in the Online casual sex world “professional” seems to mean “not creepy.”  Or at least that’s what it’s supposed to mean.

I don’t know if this couple was creepy per se, but I certainly didn’t see them do anything professional.  In the emails I exchanged with the guy he said their only rule was that his penis could not go into my vagina.  Other things could go into my vagina, and all sorts of things could go into my mouth, but him fucking me was off-limits.  I don’t recall us discussing anal sex at all prior to our first meeting.

Our first meeting wasn’t planned.  I was home alone late one night when I received an email from the guy.  He requested my presence that night.  They lived relatively close and he assured me that my cab fare would be covered.  Usually it’s best to meet in public first to see if there’s chemistry, but I’d gotten a decent vibe from the guy via email and, well, I was horny and up for an adventure.

I got dressed and called a cab.  I was a tad worried when I arrived at the address he had given me, since it was definitely not a house or apartment building.  But there was a man waiting out front, and he paid the cabbie, so I assumed he was the guy.  He was tall and blond with some facial hair.

He let me in their place, which had been converted from a less residential use.  It was dimly lit but I could tell the place had some serious square footage.  While San Francisco isn’t quite like Manhattan, real estate is definitely pricey, so a big place is unusual.

We walked to the back of the building where there was a living room area set up.  I sat on the couch, which was facing a rather large television, which was not on, and a curtain.  While I still sat on the couch he went through the curtain.  I heard that he was talking, but not what he was saying.  I figured he was talking to her, but wasn’t at all sure.

Eventually, he bid me behind the curtain.  Beyond the curtain was a “bedroom.”  The bedroom had a large office area with a very large, multi-winged desk.  He and I sat at the desk while he said all the things we’d do to her.  I heard not a peep from her, and began to wonder if “she” existed.  But then I peeked over and sure enough, there was a woman bound spread-eagle to the bed.

We made our way over to the bed.  He kept up a constant chatter about what was going on.  After all, she couldn’t see so he had to keep her updated.

He directed me to do various things to her.  I was fine; I follow direction well and I was having fun.  I licked her pussy.  I fingered her pussy.  I sucked his cock.  I watched him fuck her.  I do so like watching couples fuck.

The whole time she made clear she was enjoying herself.  She didn’t talk, but she did moan.  He interpreted.  He assured me that she liked what was going on.  I, too, liked what was happening.  We continued with our ministrations, focusing mostly on her pussy, as there it was open for us.

I did whatever he told me.  I licked.  I sucked.  I fingered.  Then he grabbed my wrist.  He whispered in my ear that he wanted to fist her but that his hands were too big.  He said my hands were just the right size.

I swear.  True story.

[To be continued, of course.]

I was asked on Formspring if I would ever bukkake.  I suppose.  It seems like it’d be a lot of work to try to get things coordinated, but sure, I’d have a few guys come on my face, or wherever.  I like come on me.  It’s fun to turn my face up and shut my eyes and wait patiently for it to hit my face.  It’s fun that every load feels unique.

Yeah, I’d bukkake.

I swear.  True story.