Tag Team Bottoming at the Cockpit Party at Mack

Men, readers of this blog already know that Mack doesn't really work for me...it should, but alas, it doesn't. For readers who don't know what Mack is: it's a sex club on Folsom St. and probably the only game in town for skin on skin mansex. Officially, bareback sex doesn't happen here, and the management provides condom dispensers in all the play areas for those who want them. Last night, though, Mack was closed for a private party hosted by the guys at Cockpit, which is related to Treasure Island Media, whose 'corporate offices' (yeah this is a multi-million dollar industry) are located just around the corner.
Mack doesn't work well for me because it's mostly about having sex standing up and with your shoes on. There are 3 or 4 sling rooms, a couple of bunks, a bath tub for piss aficionados, and encounter areas on platforms which must be reached by ladders.
Having been here not that long ago (read the January blog post), I went straight to the bunk looking to stake myself some cum dump real estate...but shit, a hot daddy was already there...and he was a big daddy, maybe 6-4 and these guys take up a lot of space. Dad was butt up on all fours, and he did have a gorgeous flawless ass (I guess Dad is about 50) with a little pink (tight?) hole. And he was built(!) but with big shoulders, the tell tale pockmarks of steroid use on his back, a 'Crix' belly and a Viagra-fueled rock hard dick. And dare I say, hopefully...poz. I wedged myself into what space was left, hoping to entice tops into a tag team situation...the comingling of cum, buttjuices, spit and lube between a couple of poz bottoms is a great way to spread the seed and its strains. And that is exactly what happened! Some tops started on my ass and then went to work on his, others fucked Dad and then switched over to my ass, giving me a bit of pre-cum, Dad's buttcanal water, cum and whatever else, I'll take it. I got those good, swishy, sloppy sounds after the first couple of injectors...which is great, because the Cockpit crowd is an older, more sophisticated, more experienced crowd...there's plenty of expert fucking but not necessarily a lot of loads. Who wants to cum early and leave early, unless he's got another date? I did feel one top's load, though...not the cum being shot into my ass but his change of pace when he slowed up, thrust his dick only part of the way into my cumbucket and then jolted a two pulse movement, slow and focused. By that time, my big hole which has the internal contours of hills and valleys, gripped that dick and it seemed to rest, momentarily between two ridges of ass magic, as that seed was spewed forth, more of a trickle than a blast...but I felt every swell of his dick. Then my butt muscles milked that boner best I could, before it popped out and the top disappeared into the crowd that had gathered. Neither the top nor I made so much as a grunt, but as he was leaving, I let go with a whisper, 'yeah.'
That was the only load of the night, as far as I could tell...I lost track of how many dicks ventured into my asshole...I always want more. Part of being a pig is that of being insatiable.
Cheap Thrills Dept: The Cockpit Parties are usually Thursday night affairs so it's mostly a hometown crowd, although my friends Kevin and Mike came up from SoCal...and the most notable out-of-towner was Dawson, who had arrived as I was getting ready to leave, around midnight. San Franciscans that we are, we all pretended not to notice, and the super megastar blended into the mass as just another guy lookin' to get laid. Little Trey from TIM's Bone Deep and several HDK videos, was also seen.
An aside: the Power Exchange is slated to move to its new venue at 220 Jones St. which is where the old Campus Theater, home to Scott O'Hara, Jim Bentley, Chris Burns and other greats from the pre-condom era, was located, but now there are problems because the neighbors are complaining. Although this is in the Tenderloin neighborhood, which San Francisco has zoned for this sort of business (to keep the rest of the city free from such dark-sided enterprises), evidently there is a day care center for Vietnamese immigrant children close by, which of course, won't do. So we'll see where this goes. I bring it up because the old Power Exchange on Otis St., where some Cockpit parties were held, works way better for me and other bottom sluts. Having said that, I'm anxious to see what they've done with 220 Jones. I don't think many kiddies are going to be around at midnight and bumping into bareback sluts in heat.

26 Yr. Old Twink Impregnates Billy Twee with Toxic Cum

He isn't a conventional twink, per se...he's a college-educated Latin with a baby face and innocent demeanor. We had communicated on barebackrt a couple of times, but he works in biotech and lives down in the Silicon Valley, hardly convenient but he sounded hot, his being young, hung and full of poz cum, and I buddylisted him, hoping, that, well...maybe. 'Maybe' became 'for real' last Saturday when he mailed me that he was coming into town on the train and could we hook up. A no brainer.
When I let him into our building, it didn't take him long to make his moves, feelin' me up in the elevator, with soft touches, almost romantic. Once safely in my place...he dropped his pants to expose a gorgeous, crescent-shaped uncut dick. Within minutes, that uncut piece of Latin meat was plowing my deepest innards. We got off to a rough start, though...he rammed that prod brutally into my ass with his first penetration. I groaned, and immediately had doubts that I could take it. But wait a minute! There hasn't been a dick yet that I could not take. With the patience and gentleness of the true mentor that I am, I guided his not-so-chiquita banana where it belonged. Man, this guy went to work on my ass...his style was to pound, pound, pound, relentlessly and deep. I braced myself against the bed frame, hands and feet, offering the best resistance I could to his energetic, piston-driving fucking. He fucked me all the way across the bed and finally over the side, with my hands braced on the floor. He never lost the beat.
Finally, he pulled out and jacked himself violently...I held my position...no need to say 'don't move, bitch,' a good bottom knows when to move and when not to move.
A few more jerks, followed by another brutal insertion, this time it was not a problem, and then a couple of violent spasms as he shot his poz load deep into my gut.
He took a shower, and then asked for the easiest way to get to the Castro. The best tops know when to move and when not to move, as well. Our meeting would be brief, but memorable...this happened last Saturday but I'll remember it for a while. Fuck me again, G., anytime. I hope the IRS sees the light...we need his biotech talent and his other talents, too.

Pozboi Gets Fucked Every Which Way by Mature Poz Top

With nothin' much happenin' on Barebackrt, I checked out Asspig and hooked up with a nice-lookin' fisting partner...we made plans for an early evening fisting date and I was going to fist him and that was that, a typical, pleasant Sunday evening. He turned out to be a nicely, gently weathered dad, with facial hair and salt and pepper everywhere and his own well-appointed playroom on the top floor of a great Victorian where the Castro melts into the Mission...fisting under the rafters. He greeted me warmly, and afer undressing and some kissing, he directed me to the platform bed next to the sling and got me on all fours. I was going to get fucked! Bareback! We hadn't even talked about this, good thing I was cleaned out and ready to go. Dad slipped his hard dick into my ass without lube and delivered a good, steady fuck...some tops would have left it at that, and that would have been good enough for me, but not this guy...he fucked me in a variety of positions, maybe to find out which one worked best...hell, they all worked out fierce! Doggystyle, wheelbarrow, sideways, both on our knees-my back to his belly, I sitting-he on his back,his dick piercing my butthole,a double reverse with our facing opposite directions-his butt against my butt-his dick up my hot hole...all of these requiring a big dick and a big hole, so we made it happen. Finally, he came up my ass, doing it missionary style.
After he came, I say, 'we didn't talk about this beforehand, but might that have been a poz cumload?'
To which he replied, 'oh yeah,' as in, 'well, duh.' Oh hell yeah!
Then I fisted Dad in the sling, the old school way with good ole Crisco. I oughta get back into Crisco for sex because it doesn't seem to have that old Crisco smell anymore which in the old days would last, well, like forever.
I got it up to the elbow with very little effort at all, and I let my fingers do their magic, turning, twisting, tweaking the deep valleys of his fistpussy. Yowza! Dad came...surely a modest little load...to be expected...the bigger load was in my ass! I was so happy that I made him happy...his face after he came was one of such peace and contentment, that I thought I should leave right then, not to disturb the afterglow.
But I did get a tour of the house...the playroom will be extended to take up much of the top floor with its peaked ceiling, remindful of an attic, and a big window looking out to the palm trees, Mission High School, Dolores Park and beyond the twinkling lights of the mansions on Dolores Heights. A light rain had started, sort of a magical fisting memory, if I were the romantic type...which I'm not. I'm more like 'Yowza!'
Thanks for the hot sex, Paul, hope to meet up again and often.