Shorts

Had couple of weeks in Europe for a summer break. I was full of a cold for much of it, which put a dampener on things. Berlin was sweet and sour. The cyclist with the great arse and hard dick fucked me hard and raw but wouldn't cum in me (he was undetectable but…) and got nervous trying to fist me because I was tight and told him he had to push his fist in. I ended up putting a load in him. The sweet smiling deaf Croatian guy with the looks and body and of an older gigolo who kissed and stroked and rimmed and fucked me from one end of the apartment to the other and sent me home the next morning with a smile plastered all over my face…but got upset about something when we hooked up again and brought it all to an end. The Vietnamese guy with the big dick who I sucked off in the park in Friedrichshain and talked and talked about life as a refugee but wouldn't let me have his load when he came. The French top who raw fucked me in every position in the pornstar script but who was too drugged to cum and ended up taking my load up his arse. The deckhelfer from a few years ago who was going to mark me again but eventually bailed. 

In Zurich it was a bit the same. The Swiss guy with the big dick was the first in years to genuinely hurt me as he pushed up against my second ring and then hurt me again as he pushed his big fist into me … but wouldn't let me have his cum. The Belgian with a big hard dick who rabbit-fucked me in his bedroom and put a big load up my hole but got so poppered up the next morning when he tried a repeat that he couldn't cum. Hey ho. Still, no complaints. Got some action, some sunshine, some new toys, got away from the office.  

   

FSM

Funny how one thing leads to another. I was skimming the latest post from Ace. Ace of course starred in a series of posts – all the way from sizzling to sweet – from my all-time favourite gay sex blogger, The Breeder, before starting his own blog.
Yesterday Ace mentioned in passing his favourite porn site, BerlinStar Film. I took a look. And what do I find but Fickstutenmarkt: the movie. I have only watched the preview but I can see it's going to be hard to resist buying the full version. I had posted here previously about going to FSM one time in Mannheim. Before that I had gone once in Berlin. I went again last summer in Berlin but hadn't blogged about it. 
I should have. It became quite a story. The previous week I had spent a night at Böse Buben and some of the cane welts were still visible on my arse. At FSM these caught the eye of the deckhelfer who hooded and tied me after I had stripped down. He slapped my arse and teased me about them and we kept chatting during the evening at times when I wasnt getting dicked. 
We ended up hooking up a few days later. We spent a long slow Sunday afternoon doing most of the things a couple of kinksters can do to each other with dicks, tongues, fists and a strap. For the finale we lay there tongues down each other's throats while he pressed a series of cigarettes against the skin just under my navel. I wanted to have something to remember him by. The scar has now faded a bit but the memories are still sharp.   

Salvage

I found an item from last year I hadn't got round to posting. I've finished it off and published it. See bog sex in my archive for September 08. It still sticks in my memory: not my ideal fuck, but memorable because it was sleazy (Victorian era underground toilet across the road from the market), because of the smell (he was a red-head and like most red-heads whose pits or groin I've tasted he was pungent) and the taste (he had a dirty arse but I rimmed him anyway) and because he was such a slut (neither of us was really into the other but he wanted dick and he wanted jiz, so I left a load up his arse). Let me know if you like it.

Like I say, red-heads seem to taste different, and it's a taste that really turns me on. I tell you another occasion that sticks in the mind. It was Berlin a few years earlier. I had put on my running gear and headed across the city to the Volkspark Friedricshain around dawn for old times' sake. The area round the fountain was a construction site with no signs of life. I headed up the hill on the off chance. One guy turned up on a bike. He was sweating, he'd been riding hard. Just wearing street gear, I guess he was on his way to or from work. Tall guy, nice looks, red hair, pale skin. He dropped the bike and we started making out. He didn't stink but he certainly didn't smell of soap. I could smell old sweat as well as the fresh sweat. He was kinda raunchy.

This I had to have. I started pulling at his sweater to get to his pits. It was a cold morning, our breath smoky, but he pulled off his sweater and shirt so I could get under his arms. Pig heaven. One then the other then back, tongues down each other's throats. He had big pink nipples which I worked on with one hand. I pushed the other hand down the back of his pants and felt for his hole. We got into a frenzy of kissing, licking and tit-play with his scent driving me a bit wild and him licking out my pits to get at the sweat from my running.

I pushed his pants right down, turned him round and squatted behind him so I could eat him. He was a big guy, not fat but plenty of meat on him. His arse was also raunchy. I pigged out for a few minutes.

It was clear to me we were both bottoms. It was one of those times I would have loved to have a hard 10" dick swinging between my legs so I could shove his face into the tree, push my tool up his arse and fuck a load into him. It wasn't to be. Just two piggy bottoms having to find a way to get each other off.

We ended up squatting facing each other, both of us with our pants round our ankles. Does squatting turn you on too? There's something about the way it leaves your balls hanging free, gives access to the taint, plus the tension on the muscles in your legs and groin. We worked on each other for some time. I seem to remember I had my tongue down his throat and several fingers up his arse as I finger-fucked him hard. He was still only half hard but jerked himself till he eventually squirted over his hairy gut. I got a handful of it to taste.

I can't now remember how I got off. But like the Melbourne guy it was the taste and the flavour of him that sticks in my memory. After we had finished we stood up, both of us wearing big smiles, and fixed our clothes before he got back on his bike and headed off. I ran back to the hostel, still enjoying the taste of his arse and his pits on my lips and chin. Sweaty stranger in a park at dawn, no words spoken ... Ticks all the boxes for me.