Sunday Morning Questions: Thank-You Edition

One of the things I've learned from years of public blogging is that its moments of grace are exceedingly rare.

I'm at a stage in my life in which I've done enough self-examination to know myself pretty well. I know I'm not the smartest, or handsomest, or sexiest guy out there—and even more to my dismay, I'm not the kindest, or the most patient, or even the most honorable.

Yet I'm not one of those bloggers who adapts a tough, bad-ass persona to cover up my shortcomings and weaknesses. I often examine them right here, in front of you guys. On a regular basis I bare my lard-white underbelly—the softest and most tender spots exposed for everyone to see. Most people recognize the intent with which I offer these moments of self-reflection for what it is: my gift, so that through me, maybe someone out there might learn something about themselves.

There's always a snake in the internet Eden, however, that wants to strike when it sees someone at his most exposed, however. I've grown accustomed to knowing that when I post something particularly personal, a couple of the snakes will slither out to inject what venom they can into what they see as a weakened victim.

So this week, when I penned the entry called Flood, I found it a particularly vulnerable entry. Perhaps of all my entries, one of the rawest, in the kind of effect it had on me, both at the time and while I was writing it. I posted it with a lot of trepidation, and many second thoughts. I almost rewrote it, to edit out the parts that hit too close to home.

Instead, I made myself post it as an exercise in bravery. And I was astounded by the universal kindness with which my readers received it. Every comment I received, whether on the entry itself or via email or instant message or text, was unwaveringly supportive and sweet. In the down-time after my separation from Chester, after our second meeting (and I mean that in a couple of ways, as I was feeling quite blue and reflective, afterward), I couldn't have asked for a better reception to what was a highly personal and deeply felt entry.

So thank you, readers. Thank you very much indeed.

I showed the last part of that entry to Chester, to apologize for getting too heavy during our lovemaking. This is what he said to me in reply: I remember the moment you said that. I know the feeling. I didn't feel like I had enough arms to wrap you up in and comfort you. 


I am a very fortunate man.


Let's get to some questions rounded up from formspring.me.


Can a bottom tell if a top is a shooter or a dribbler? Are the sensations different?

When I was a bottom in my younger years, the only way I could tell whether a guy was a shooter or a dribbler was to let it run out of my hole. Divorced of cues like grunting and heavy breathing and shouts of 'I'm coming!', I could usually have told when a guy was shooting, simply by the way his dick would spasm as he shot. But the size of the load? There's no way I could've told.

I've known some bottoms, however, who are remarkably good at judging the quantity of fluid that's gone into their hole. I think the lesson here is that it's different for some than others. It'd be interesting to hear from dedicated bottoms on the matter.

What would be the skimpiest Halloween costume you would be willing to wear out in public?

It's not the skimpiness issue. I've been naked around people before.

For me it's more an issue of temperature. There's nothing I dislike more than cold. Cold air on my naked skin makes me miserable, and in October, the weather can be dicey. So if it's a cold October night, I'll be the bastard in the dumpy full-body M&M costume, thank you very much.

Put your music player on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up.

H & Claire, "Centre of My Heart," BWO, "Last Flight to San Francisco", Kate Bush, "Big Stripey Lie," Moloko, "Be Like You," Mark Ronson, "Missing Words," and Jamiroquai, "Cosmic Girl."

Trust me, it could've been a lot more embarrassing.

Has anyone ever walked in on you having sex?

Not by accident. By invitation, many times.

Ever had piss in your ass?

Nope. But I've certainly delivered it there many a time.

Has anyone ever induced an orgasm in you without directly stimulating your penis? How was it done? Have you ever done this to someone else?

No, but they've come close. I once had an astonishing finger-fucking that brought me so close to the edge of shooting that it only took one slight touch of my hand to bring me off. And much longer ago, I had a top buddy who could fuck me in a way that would make me shoot with just a couple of strokes.

I've made a lot of men shoot without touching through relentless pounding of their prostate. My dick seems to be just the right length for it, and I have a talent of being able to tell not only when I'm hitting it, but how to find it again and again.

Do u manscape? And if you do, how much time a day do you spend on doing it on average?

I trim my pubes and my nuts, perhaps every couple of weeks. Certainly not daily.

Whose the one porn actor you absolutely can't stand to see on camera and why?

There aren't any porn actors I find myself so turned off by on a physical level that I can't watch them—though like everyone, I have certain types that turn me on more than others.

There are some actors whose political views I find repellant that I'm not interested in hunting down their films, however.

What is your favorite kind of candy? Mine is jelly beans.

I like a good Charleston Chew. Frozen.