Posts made by bonerrs

This is kind of a 'meh'. I mean. He's… somewhat attractive(?)

I'm glad he feels good about 'coming out'. But this is hardly a revelation.

Aww

Definitely being able to say whatever the fuck I want (within a professional setting) to the hottest women at work without fear that they will misinterpret it as a sexual advance. Definitely.

I let a 'str8' dude fuck me and told him he could say some nasty stuff. He loved saying, "oh man, that pussy feels soooo good." I think he was just used to saying that when it felt amazing. It must have, he filled me up.

I like a lovely treasure trail. I love nice deep armpits with about an inch of hair. The smell is awesome.

I've had guys that were TOTALLY against this! I love to lick a nice rock hard nipple.

I have to admit, I'd have a hard time just watching a bf get rammed lol I'd want to be in there somehow. That being said, I got to watch a female friend of my get smashed by her bf… it was so fucking hot.

Does anyone here watch Rifftrax videos? A lot of the crew from "Mystery Science Theater 3000" ("MST3K") commenting on current films. Some great stuff. Check out there website www.rifftrax.com

Highly recommended! The do humor voice overs of films and they are all hilarious. Some old cheese ball movies, and some current films.

Not really, but I like doing it! I like using a baby wipe and then just going to town. Been with a few 'str8 bros' who LOVED having that done. It made me giving them a bj that much better lol

one time. I had a hankering for a spankering back when I was 13 and my dad walked in on me in my room. Thankfully I had the covers just at my knees. He knew what I was doing. He never didn't knock again. Later I found out that he felt horrible about it, because he was obviously a kid once too. He just didn't know how to talk about it and didn't want to make me feel bad at that age. There probably wouldn't have been anything he could have said that would have made it less awkward. And that feeling didn't stick around that long.

Just part of life. lol

Partners you know and trust can still cheat…  I'm not saying be a cynic. But maybe go with PrEP?

Nothing better than to feel a hot watery load hit the back of your throat. I love that.

OMG yes! I even have a hard time fingering a guy lol I am just sooooo not interested in that…. juicy mix. Now I know why they invented douches 

@wesleyrayne:

Ive only been in 3 proper relationships in my life and I'm 36 years old!

Totally not odd at all! I'm 33 and I have only had 3 full-on relationships. There were a few minor boyfriends or summer flings, but only 3 actually boyfriends who I either lived with, or felt that deep emotional connection. I took myself off the market about 8 years ago after my last relationship. Only a little play here and there. Very sporadic. I'm not the most attractive guy; I'm interesting and witty. But not the kind of guy that people stop to look at when he enters the club lol

I don't judge. I've had my slutty phase(es) On the flip side, I know straight dudes and gay dudes alike who are serial monogamists. This one guy was bi, and he just couldn't be out of a relationship. He made his own money and such, but he just HAD to have a gf or bf. I felt sorry for that compelling feeling he always had.

Good luck, good life!  :cheers: :love:

I tried that once. It was great until I was almost fully out of juice to shoot lol it had all dribbled out from the pounding lol  :cheers:

A Gesture of Tenderness. On the Public Display of Affection

Frank Ligtvoet

He was the first, and I was very much in love with him. Carlo was out, dressed flamboyantly, had black suede glam-rock boots, gave ultimate care to his black reddish colored hair and used make up. I was not at all like him. I was an uiltje, an owl. At least that was what the men in the bars and discos in The Hague called me behind my back: a boy or a man, who looked straight, but was gay. Carlo, who attended his last year at a traditional Christian Latin School and barely survived there, lived by himself in a small room above one of those bars, the Venice. One wall was decorated with aluminum foil on which a big poster of David Cassidy was taped; the other walls were painted in purple and black. The Venice, pronounced the French way by the regulars, was often a late stop on my nights out, then followed by one or sometimes two discos. And in one of those I had met Carlo.

Carlo was spoiled, by his adoring mother and by a sugar daddy, an elderly interior architect who lived behind the Queen’s work palace Noordeinde, overlooking its gardens. A father was nowhere in sight. Carlo was sweet and sentimental and since love was about spoiling, he brought me big bouquets of roses, gave me presents like a Dusty Springfield record and a calendar dedicated to the graphic work of the decadent fin-de-siècle artist Aubrey Beardsley. Gay-ish stuff, pricey for a high school kid. Although I was already a student in Amsterdam and in that way his senior, he treated me like a pet and showed me off in his world. I honestly didn’t know exactly what to do with him in my world: my friends were just a tiny bit nicer than usual and my family was stunned by his presentation and his demeanor.

Our love did not last long, maybe half a year, but Carlo made me do something, which I never did before and hardly ever did after. At one of his visits to Amsterdam, where I had a room in a student house, we walked in the Kalverstraat, the main shopping street in the old center, which leads from Dam Square to the Mint. In front of the fancy Fiorucci clothing store, he grabbed my hand and held it the way lovers do on a stroll. But it was 1973, even in liberal Amsterdam. It was maybe a proud gesture, maybe passionate, but it was for sure provocative. And so we walked down Kalverstraat stared at by the many shoppers, who saw a colorful gay boy with an owl at his side.

I learned from that experience and gave him some time later a kiss on the lips on the crowded platform before boarding the Sunday evening train from The Hague, back to Amsterdam. When I took my seat at the window and waved to Carlo, a man opposite of me, who had seen the small scene, said: ‘Well done’. I liked that and felt supported, but instead of starting a conversation with him, I didn’t dare to look him in the eyes or to say a word; I felt embarrassed and kept quiet till he deboarded halfway the trip in Haarlem.

Over 40 years later men walking hand in hand, let alone kissing, is in most of Holland, where I am from, and in most of the US, where I live, still a provocative gesture. A young handsome couple walked a few days ago close to my home hand in hand over Court Street in Brooklyn and the sight is still so unusual that I felt the urge to applaud them, which would have taken away the normalcy, which they sought and deserved, and I needed to respect. Yes, same sex couples gained by now almost all the same rights straight couples have, but one thing is still absent and that is the right of the public display of affection, a right no law can offer.

I remember the relief I felt on the first trip my now husband and I made together in the eighties to Italy. We walked down the winding stone paved road from the station halfway up the mountain through the still undiscovered village of Vernazza down to the harbor: my arm loosely over the shoulder of my friend. Italians may be resistant toward gay rights, but most of them don’t see anything unusual in male affection.

And I remember how we in the nineties halted in broad summer sunlight on the warm wooden walkway and kissed happily, before proceeding our way from our rental to the Pines Pantry in one of the two LGBT communities on Fire Island, to shop for food. I don’t like ghettos, but we loved being there and to expressing our love not being gazed at.

I don’t think - but God and my therapist only know - that I have any serious issue with being a gay man in a straight world, but I resent that I never learned how to be tender and soft and touchy and sweet and childish, outside the constraints of a house or a bar or a ghetto, to the one I love the most. It might have affected our inside relationship as well, for you need some training to become that kind of person. I observed that training closely in my two years older and extravert brother: I saw it with joy and with - never fulfilled - anticipation, and with sadness as well, since I understood that I could not follow in his straight footsteps. An important human experience was never available to me and as far as I can see is still not available.

This sadness became urgently painful after we got children. Our kids very seldom see spontaneous intimacy between their parents outside the home. And I wonder what they think when we show those feelings inside the home: they might - somewhere down - perceive it, with their eyes so profoundly used to straight gestures of love and affection, as awkward. And further: we cannot model for them how to deal with affection and love in public. They and we have to rely on straight people.

I wish for all young LGBT people and for their future kids that somebody will start a tender coming out week, where we can show love in the public space, not in a parade, but just where we happen to be: in restaurants, while bringing the kids to school, in school, on the street, in shops, at the movies, on the beach. I hope these gestures will not be seen or felt as gestures of provocation anymore, but as gestures of tenderness. And I hope that that week becomes a month and then a year and so on.

So I've thought and read some stuff online to affect the taste of cum. I think eating oranges is the best bet!   :cheers: :cheers:

Best results I've seen. … tasted.. lol

Some awesome news in the realm of astrophysics: a new detection method for exoplanets!

Source: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/12/141201100329.htm

What about a Cobalt? Simply that I have a death wish?

It's about time. The FDA have been a bunch of zealots about this for years. There are literally hundreds of thousands of candidate donors out there with perfectly clean blood. It's time to make a change!