FUCK YEAH!!! NICE SUIT, DUDE.

MORNING GLORY

GETTING WET

ASS WEDNESDAY

LATIN BOY 4 RENT

I walked into the music store looking for the perfect CD. I found a Joao Gilberto. Ricardo was Brazilian of Italian descent and studying at UC Berkeley. Dark with full lips and a beautiful body. He had great nipples. His picture showed him from the lips down. I wanted our time together to be perfect.

I had just finished a contract job and got paid bucket loads of money. I bought myself a new pair of glasses and paid way too much for the frames. It had been months since I had done anything for myself and several months since I had had any meaningful sex with another guy. Quickies and anonymous sex in bathhouses and Sex Clubs. I was looking forward to an evening of something with some substance and romance.

I paid for the CD and walked back to the hotel room I had paid for. The room was spacious for a hotel room in downtown San Francisco. The bed was a fourposter with a canopy and there was a sitting area. I showered and put on a pair of pajamas bottoms and a t shirt. I put the CD in the player and sat in one of the easy chairs. He was scheduled to arrive at 8:00 PM and although a little nervous, I was ready. I stroked my cock a little as I sat waiting for the knock on the door. Right on time there was a rap at the door. I got up and opened the door. He smiled and my heart leaped. He had beautiful teeth and a gorgeous smile. Dark brown eyes with thick lashes. He was about 6' 2”, two inches taller than me. He shook my hand and introduced himself. I asked him in. I closed the door and watched him walk into the room. Great ass.

“This is a nice room.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that Joao Gilberto?”

“Yes.”

“How very thoughtful of you.”

“Tell me about yourself.” I asked.

He told me he had been in the States for about five years and was studying engineering at Berkeley. His plan was to return to Brazil and help rebuild the infrastructure there in Rio where he was from. We sat in a love seat and he put his hand on my thigh while he talked. He stroked the side of my face and then he leaned in and kissed me.

We had many email exchanges before we finally met. I was looking for someone who was intelligent and thoughtful. No attitude. I wanted to kiss. I wasn't looking to fuck or get fucked, I just wanted an evening with a good looking, well built young man to play with and have fun. Three one hundred dollar bills sat on top of the TV set in the armoire. He was expensive but he came highly recommended with great reviews from previous clients.

He looked down at my pjs and and pointed to a precum spot that was forming.

“Looks like you're enjoying this.”

We kissed some more and he started removing my clothes. He stroked my cock and then got down on his knees in front of me, sucking my dick. I put my hands on his head and ran my fingers through his thick black hair. He was an expert. He knew exactly what he was doing with a penis. He licked my balls and took them into his mouth and sucked. He stood up in front of me, slowly removing his shirt, taking his time with the buttons. He undid his belt buckle and looked at me and smiled. One by one he undid the buttons of his jeans, revealing his thick hard cock in his underwear. He took off his shoes, socks and pants, slowly pulling down the elastic of his underwear, letting his engorged cock flop free. I reached out, stroking him slowly as he moaned with pleasure. With my other hand I reached around his ass, pulling him towards me, licking the head of his cock. It was about seven and a half inches, but thick and veiny. I took my time, licking the underside of his shaft and cupping his balls with my hand. I took as much of his cock as I could into my mouth and my nose nestled in his pubic hair that smelled of soap. He stood me up, moving us to the bed where we lay down in a sixty-nine position sucking one another. He had large nipples that stuck out from his chest about a quarter of an inch. They were fun to suck on and nibble.

“Are they naturally that way?”

“No, you have to work on them.”

I told him I wanted him to fuck my mouth. I lay with my head on the pillows and he straddled my face, fucking my mouth as his ass moved in rhythm to the Bossa Nova that was playing on the CD player. He reached around and stroked my cock as he fucked my mouth. I thrust my hips into his hand as I came all over my abs and chest.

“I want you to cum on me.” I said breathlessly.

“Sorry, I can't, I have two other clients tonight.” He said apologetically. He lay down next to me and took me in his arms. “We can stay like this for a while though. I have time.” I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand and it was five minutes after nine. “No extra charge.” He said as he rested my head on his shoulder, rubbing and massaging the cum on my body with his hand. We lay like that for a few minutes and then he asked, “May I take a quick shower?”

“Sure.” I replied. He got up and walked to the bathroom. “Next time I want your load and your ass.” I laughed as he shouted back from the bathroom.

“It's all yours, baby.”

MILITARY MORNING GLORY

I LOVE A MAN WHO READS

A STIFF STICK SHIFT...TRY SAYING THAT THREE TIMES REAL FAST.

HARD

GETTING WET.... TOGETHER

I LOVE A MAN IN A PAIR OF JEANS

ROAD HEAD

I used to have a friend who loved to give me road head.  Especially on the freeway so the truckers could watch and honk.  Hard to focus on the road while you're cumming, though.  I would love to hear any road head stories you guys might have.

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE OLD SPICE

 A reader and new friend from Paris recently sent me some of his drawings and I wanted to share them with you.  Posted with permission from French Anonymous.  Merci .

PRETTY IN PINK

MORINING GLORY

GETTING WET ...IN THE POOL. HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY

FILLIN' THOSE GUTTERS

CROSSING THE LINE

Like so many holidays in the United States, Memorial Day has lost its original meaning and now has become just an excuse for a three day weekend. BBQs and drinking.  Although my father did not die in a war, I would like to honor him and his service by reposting this post on Crossing the Line.  After writing the post I found my father's official card he was given as a Shellback.  Only the first four photos are from my father, the others I found online.  My dad's the hottie in the first photo in the diaper.  Second from the right.  So I guess he was the Royal Baby and the newbies had to kiss his belly.  Wow!

Recently while visiting family, I came across a series of photographs of my father while he was in the Navy during World War II that had been in the family for years. I had seen these photos from an early age and thought nothing more of them than on board high jinks. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that there was something ritualistic about them and a ceremony I had come across once came to mind. I did some research and found that these photos represented a traditional initiation rite of the U.S. Navy called Crossing the line. My father was stationed aboard a transport ship that brought soldiers back from the Pacific Theatre, so he crossed the equator several times.

The ceremony of Crossing the Line is an initiation rite in the Royal Navy, U.S. Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Marine Corps, and other navies that commemorates a sailor's first crossing of the Equator. Originally, the tradition was created as a test for seasoned sailors to ensure their new shipmates were capable of handling long rough times at sea. Sailors who have already crossed the Equator are nicknamed (Trusty) Shellbacks, often referred to as Sons of Neptune; those who have not are nicknamed (Slimy) Pollywogs.

After crossing the line, Pollywogs receive subpoenas [1] to appear before King Neptune and his court (usually including his first assistant Davy Jones and her Highness Amphitrite and often various dignitaries, who are all represented by the highest ranking seamen), who officiate at the ceremony, which is often preceded by a beauty contest of men dressing up as women, each department of the ship being required to introduce one contestant in swimsuit drag. Afterwards, some wogs may be "interrogated" by King Neptune and his entourage, and the use of "truth serum" (hot sauce + after shave) and whole uncooked eggs put in the mouth. During the ceremony, the Pollywogs undergo a number of increasingly disgusting ordeals (wearing clothing inside out and backwards; crawling on hands and knees on nonskid-coated decks; being swatted with short lengths of fire hose; being locked in stocks and pillories and pelted with mushy fruit; being locked in a water coffin of salt-water and bright green sea dye (fluorescent sodium salt); crawling through chutes or large tubs of rotting garbage; kissing the Royal Baby's belly coated with axle grease, hair chopping, etc.), largely for the entertainment of the Shellbacks.

This is an account of the ceremony on board HMS Blossom in 1825 by Petty Officer John Bechervaise in his private publication Thirty-Six Years of a Sea Faring Life (1839), available from Kessinger in facsimile. Blossom was just starting a three-year voyage of exploration around the Horn to the Arctic.

There were on board the ship a great number of officers and seamen, who had never yet gone South of the Tropics, consequently were to be initiated into the mysteries of crossing the Equinoctial line, and entering the dominions of Neptune; great preparations had been making since our leaving Woolwich, for an event which promised to some part of the crew great amusement, to the other great fear; many a poor girl at Woolwich, and at Spithead had been deprived of some part of her wardrobe, to adorn Amphitrite; from one a night cap and gown had been stolen, from another some other part of dress, and although I had no hand in it, I was as bad as the rest, for I was consenting thereto. An immense grey horse hair wig, sufficiently long to reach well down the back of Neptune, had been purchased in England by subscription, accompanied by a venerable grey beard to sweep his aged breast; a tin crown and a trident completed the regalia. On a review of all those who previously had crossed the line, I was selected as Neptune; in vain I endeavoured to defend myself from being deified, it was useless, I must be Neptune, all remonstrance was vain; I took it, resolved to use the trident with mildness. Now reader fancy to yourself the writer of these lines with his legs and arms well blacked, his cheeks, vermillion, short and very loose trowsers, a double frilled shirt, from whose ample folds the salt water dripped plentifully, two swabs for epaulets, a long grey horse hair wig, a venerable beard of the same colour, a tin crown, a trident, and to complete the whole, a hoarse church yard cough; fancy all this I say, and Neptune, or your humble servant in his shape stands before you. The evening before we expected to cross the line, the lookout man reported at 8, P.M., a light a head; presently a hoarse voice hailed "ship ahoy" which being answered by the Captain, Neptune intimated his intention to visit the ship early next morning. Accordingly early in the morning the ship was made snug, the top-sails were close reefed, courses hauled up, top gallant sails furled, a new sail was secured to the gunwale of the barge on the booms, the other edge to the hammock netting, leaving a hollow of eight feet, capable of containing an immense quantity of water; into this sail the very men who were to be dipped in it, were employed in pumping and bailing water, little thinking, poor creatures, they were making a rod for themselves. A gun had been dismounted on the forecastle, the carriage made into a car, on which were to sit Neptune and Amphitrite, and between them the Triton; in order to keep all secret, a sail was run across the forecastle to screen Neptune and his gang from observation. Just before the appointed time, all who were likely to undergo the dreadful operation of shaving were ordered below, the gratings put on, and a constable stationed to prevent the ascent of more than one at a time; a wise regulation, for our numbers were nearly equal, and had they shown fight, might have conquered; a rope was rove through a block on the main yard arm, to one end of which was secured a handspike, astride of which sat a man with his hands fastened to the rope over his head.

...

The first of the ship's company that were shaved, who was brought up blindfolded by the whole posse of constables was the armourer, a weather-beaten honest old Hibernian, who had been a farrier in the Peninsular Army for many years. At the reduction, he had found his way as armourer of some small craft, and thence to our ship; on his entering for our ship, so anxious was he to be within the given age, which was thirty, that on being asked his age he gave it as eight and twenty, although fifty six was written in legible characters on his old cribbage face, which throughout the ship's company had gained him the cognomen of old eight and twenty. On this man then the barber had to perform his first functions; a bucket was filled with all the cleanings of the hen coops, pig-stys, &c. and with it a due proportion of tar had been mixed; with a large paint brush dipped in this villainous compound, and his razor, close to him the barber stood waiting the signal. My first question was "what is your name my man?" "John S----, your honour," at the instant of his opening his mouth the brush went across it, when the face the poor creature made it is impossible to describe, "phoo what do you call that?" "what do you call that?" I again asked the old man how old he was, "eight and twenty your honour, and so I am; oh I will spake no more, I will spake no more." As a last effort to make him open his mouth, I said if you mean to put him overboard, mind have a good rope round him for perhaps he cannot swim. Terrified at the idea of being thrown overboard the poor fellow said "I cannot swim, oh, I cannot swim;" but as the brush again crossed his mouth, he uttered with his teeth closed, "I will spake no more, by J---s I will spake no more if you drown me." Amid a roar of laughter two men tripped the handspike on which he sat and sent him backward into the sail where the bear was waiting to receive him; it was soon over, he escaped and stood by to see his shipmates share his fate. At the time of his being shaved he was not aware who Neptune was, when he found it out I could not get him to speak to me for some time; at length Irish good temper conquered, and we were friends again.

—John Bechervaise, Thirty-six Years of Seafaring Life p.146-150[4]

Equator-crossing ceremonies, typically featuring King Neptune, are also sometimes carried out for passengers' entertainment on civilian ocean liners and cruise ships. They are also performed in the merchant navy and aboard sail training ships.