What Am Man Might Say

I don't know

I can help

It's just a job

I was wrong. You go ahead.

I'm afraid to admit. What can I do?

My mistake

I'm greatful

Money isn't it.

Thank you.

It's just a car.

Are we connected?

More than friends

Difference Maker. Change Agent.

Passionate

Stand with me. Please.

Craftsman

Jim is a guy I met almost four years ago now. He comes to New York to work on the amazing brownstones that populate certain neighborhoods like the Upper West Side and Park Slope in Brooklyn. Beautiful old places  that needs lots of work and tender loving care. Jim is a master plaster craftsman. His hands work magic in many ways . . .

I met him in the Starbucks at Columbus Circle. We were both waiting in line for our coffee and I was appreciating his fine form, the way his goateed face seemed lost in thought and his large pecs and thin waist. I could tell he worked with his hands for a living and that made me look to see what his hands looked like.

They did not disappoint. Masculine, lots of dark hair running up his forearm and creeping out of the top of his shirt. I stared right at his crotch and then looked up into his eyes and said hello. I offered to buy his coffee and since he had already paid, just sort of laughed and asked if I wanted to take a walk with him. We grabbed our coffees and headed across the street to the entrance to Central Park. We walked north on the left hand side of the park and I was transfixed by the way he spoke -- a strong Boston accent and the way he drank his coffee was almost like he held himself back from devouring the cup.

He asked me what I did and I told him and I of course was curious about his work. He told me he was working on a brownstone up on 74th Street and did I want to see it? He explained that the house was under total renovation and we would have the place to ourselves.

 I wish I had a more clear accounting of what happened when we entered the house. Ladders, plaster, the heavy smell of paint, tarps all over and the two of us wrestling out of our clothes so fast, I recall him stepping through a hole in his his jeans and ripping them further. This furry fucker was a total match.I wish I had a pic of his mouth to share, it is one of those intensely strong mouths that just enters and devours. same height, same intensity, making out. Who was going to drop a knee first?

It was me. I sucked his fat cock like there was no tomorrow and he just kept one hand on the back of the base of my neck for added pressure. Thighs like rocks that would later almost suffocate me. God how many hours I have spent holding on to those legs in one position or another. yes, I see him several times a year when he comes to the city to work.

His furry nuts smelled like a man who works hard for a living. I lapped at them forever. And Jim knows what he likes and what he doesn't. The kind of lover that more ravishes you than makes love to you even when he is getting fucked. His ass has a way of milking my dick and pulling me in deep.

And when I cum in that dense dark fur, it is like his hair and skin absorb it and want more. He is a man who can appreciate being edged and then all of a sudden, releases a torrent of energy and thick creamy cum.

I know little of his life back in Boston and that is fine. But I have seen some of the most beautiful houses in NYC under renovation and learned from a master, how to appreciate skilled craftsmen.

The Book Club

We tell them that there is a book club meeting --

And we meet in a hotel room for quick but intense group man on man play

And over the years -- attachments form and we know we need to move it outside, where it ought to be

Where we can do what we need to do. Get with nature

Sit and reflect

Nap when we need to

Get sucked or suck because we can

Get fucked or fuck because we need to

Just between us. 

House Dreams

I want to live here

I want to hang out here

I want to sleep here

I want to have my morning coffee here

Rest

God, just four or five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

A nice long nap is just what the doctor ordered.

Numbers

10:12

One Message

10:56

805

2,582 miles

Twice

Be the First to Say It

T

The Wake of Forgiveness

The story takes place over a thirty year span and centers on the life of Karel Skala, his father, the mother who died bearing him and his band of brothers set in the beauty and harshness of rural Texas. Bruce Machart’s character development is the best I’ve read in a long time. There is no escape from the torment of emotional, spiritual and physicality of this well-conceived world. And oh man, is this world physical. In one of the best fight scenes I think I have ever read, the author describes the fight as “flawless in its wickedness.” The language is so richly detailed and the dialogue so spare yet vivid, that you experience a sort of adrenaline rush that is set in a constant state of expectancy.

 And he never disappoints. The book is sweeping in its broad strokes on the great themes – familial bonds, conflict, and revenge, the absence of maternal and paternal love and how that manifests itself in a character.This is a book that should be sent to guys and brothers you’ve fought with and drank with and a note that says, “read this.”

Turkish Heat

I met Hakan one night at a work party. As is often the case, there are many people that attend these parties that I don't know. Friends and colleagues of the honored guest usually pad the guest list with people who are required to attend an after work affair so these things tend to be very boring, the food mediocre and the wine selected even worse. But not always. This particular night, I was brought over to a group of people after I made my speech and at that point was counting the minutes until I could politely leave. Amongst the couple of men and women was this amazingly handsome dark haired guy. He wasn't typical of the guys at this party -- young, sort of cocky, nice features, nice looking body, nice smile . . .but oh man, the lips. Full bodied surrounded by dark scruff. And eyelashes that were long and seductive. We  were introduced and he gave me that "I want to get fucked or suck you off smile." I was all in. He told me he was an architect, which later I discovered really meant pseudo student. He told me he worked for  a large firm , a very well known firm downtown. He was hot and knew it and was flirting pretty aggressively. I was loving it. I told him i wanted to see him again and he asked me if I would meet him that night and told me he was staying at the InterContinental. 

I showed up at his room and couldn't wait to get my hands on him, my tongue in that mouth and his cock in hand. He answered the door with this magnetic smile. And out of the corner of my eye, saw another man in the room. I was more than a bit stunned. I walked in and he introduced me. The guy put his hand on Hakan's shoulder and pushed him down to suck the both of us. And suck us he did. I made out with the guy as Hakan mouthed our cocks. At one point, the other guy, took a break to take a leak. Hakan looked up at me with these really sad eyes and said to me, "please be gentle with me." WTF? So i started to get pissed thinking this other guy was making him do things Hakan didn't want him to do.

You know how when you are in a threesome you can ice a guy out? Well that is what I did. I monopolized Hakan;s ass and mouth. I covered him with my body and when i began rimming and fucking him, made it clear it was just the two of us. After I came, I took him out of there and we went to my hotel and spend the night. I later fucked him again and really began to appreciate his technique and how he worked his muscly ass to my benefit. We would see each other a couple of times a week and he would mostly suck me off.

And then we spent a weekend together in Washington DC. God what a great weekend. Long fuck sessions, making out, blow jobs. Fun. But what I remember also, was walking around Georgetown and taking the Metro to Alexandria. We went to a great bookstore which he photographed and later sent me pics that I now have framed. He showed me books of poetry his father read to him as a young man which I read and loved.

He was very self-conscious of his dark furry body despite my telling him there would be plenty of men in his life who would appreciate him. I loved the way he worshipped my cock and the way his ass held my shaft like a wet slippery, tight fisted handshake.

He returned to Istanbul later that summer and I haven't heard from him since. I am certain he is married now to a woman from his social set and wonder if he has children and if he is still having sex with men. I suspect he is married and fathering children, fucking a beautiful dark haired woman and I am hoping he still enjoys the pleasures that only two men can share together. The kind of pleasure we both enjoyed.