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.

Mack SF...Valley of the Trolls?

This documentary is not a review of Mack, but rather what transpired during my visit there last Saturday. First off, Mack is well-managed with the best music I ever heard in a sex club and a campy, generous front desk staff...I got a discount for being a veteran. The last time I was there was before the remodel...my fuck buddy Craig and I needed a place to fist...he had already fucked my ass in his room at the Holiday Inn and I wanted to return the favor by fisting his hot hole (we had met at one of Tom Fister's parties in the Castro) and we both preferred a sling rather than a bed or the floor. I bare fisted Craig's big hole at the Mack that night and there wasn't much else going on at the time (I've forgotten what night of the week it was) and we drew a curious crowd, such as it was. I thought that Mack was OK and a place with some potential if one bottom wanted to get his butt plowed, and the atmosphere was bareback-friendly.
I checked in around midnight and there wasn't much happening, although attendance built up steadily through the evening. The next thing: I was about the hottest man there, and that's not a boast, but should you give you an idea of what the other guys looked like (check out my profile, pics on barebackrt, I am not a little twink despite identifying as a boi), and being the hottest man in the room doesn't necessarily mean you're gonna get a rush...a lot of guys tend to get intimidated by you and then they fear rejection. That's too bad, because I would have gladly hosted any dick that wanted in. But...on that night, I don't think there were many guys there to fuck...they were there to watch. Some guys didn't even bother to strip...they trolled around in street clothes...not much interest in fetish wear...one guy actually wore a business suit (!), stalking around like a bored Episcopal priest. Not a few guys could have used a cane or even a walker. Yes, men...in this esteemed sex club, there were guys teetering around, about to keel over at any moment, or to skid down one of the ladders that led to and from the cages and bunks built on the tower platforms. How sexy is all of this?
If there was the slightest hint of action, these doddering trolls would rush..as best as they could...to gather around and get a good view.
I staked out a place on top of one of the towers, slipped off my jock and stuck my butt up and out, obviously looking to get fucked. Nothing happened...but I was patiently waiting for the bars to close and for the storming of a herd of hot men from the Powerhouse and Chaps. It didn't happen...there was no flood of fresh hot blood. Just a few more trolls...by 3 a.m., the place was fairly crowded but with very little action...just looky-loos trolling around...and of course the computers were all in use. I had the platform pretty much to myself until an unremarkable couple climbed up and settled into an extenuated, boring suckathon. Then a very young latino with absolutely no muscular definition tried to mount an ugly troll wearing glasses...the troll, not the kid. That animal act went on for about five minutes...and that was it for a while. 4 a.m., 5 a.m....finally the kid returned and tried to fuck me. He started to stick his fingers up my hole, but in a crude way that told me he didn't know what he was doing...this was just something he saw in a video. But, he's just a kid, and it's my job to teach him something. His cock was not particularly big, but like with all young kids, it was rock hard. I'm on my belly and he's messing around back there...I didn't what in the hell was doing, so I finally reached back and guided that hard little rod into my twitching, eager hole...ah shit, he's wearing a condom...well, he's the top and it's his call and he's right to take care of himself...the fuck wasn't the best, figure he's still figuring it out (maybe he's straight?! who knows or cares?), and I guess it was better than nothing, but let's hope he figures it out before too long.
Check out for me was 6 a.m. and it was time to give it up. Gathering my shit, I realized that the kid had taken my old bottle of Fist by mistake and left me with his new bottle of Jungle Juice Premium. The kid was long gone by then so I took the Jungle Juice home...Mack had not been a complete waste of time, then...and better than staying home.
Mack could be so hot, and maybe on a different night, it would have been better...but for now, I think I've gotten Mack out of my system.

Going to Hellhole SF

Men, I finally made it to Hellhole, the monthly fisting party on the edge of SOMA...in a warehouse/office bldg. next door to Mr. S. Leather. Hellhole is very well organized, as are most fisting events, for reasons I will get to later. A cheerful guy greets you as you enter the bldg. and shows you the way...there are signs along the way, leading up stairways and down hallways. Now it costs something, probably to keep out the guys who aren't serious, because as we know, fisting is serious, maybe the most serious of all male-to-male sex encounters. Last night it cost $25 with some of the proceeds going to charity...yeah, that sounds expensive, but you never get the feeling that it is a ripoff
The space isn't all that big: the main room has about 10 or 12 slings, one upholstered platform, and a St. Andrew's cross...there are 2 other separate spaces, with more slings and another fuck platform...I didn't like the lighting there...it was too bright, so I stuck to the main space. The fisting brotherhood may appear to be clique-ish but that's because there's an element of trust that's required in a fisting relationship. You wouldn't let just any crowbar stick his arm up your ass, now would you? But...this can pose a problem if you hit these parties stag...most of the participants are partners or have known one another for a long time.
I found another single who admitted he was still learning the 'art' of fisting...and I believe him, as his hole was the tightest I've ever handled. With some patience and determination, we eventually got my whole fist up there where I discovered the landscape of his love tract...there were ridges and nubbins in there, and I massaged them all with my fingertips, nothing else moving except those select digits. The man was in total bliss. All this time, we played in silence, our eyes locked, and the concentration, the sex was intense. But most notably, his tight hole gripped my hands like a vise, to the point where I felt an relentless pressure bearing down on the fist...this was a 'first' for me..most holes I've fisted were big, greasy, sloppy holes allowing for a lot of movement deep inside. This guy wore me out, and I was grateful when he called for a break. He requested that I use gloves, and of course, I did. After all, we'd just met.
I wish it were a little darker in Hellhole...some darkness would add to the mystique, and the marginal quality of this fetish and all its taboos. For all of the fisting going on, Hellhole didn't seem quite nasty enough for me, although that's my own little take on things. It may be the best place for regular fisting, but it's still a bit small...you may have to wait a while before a sling becomes available. Everyone is friendly and considerate, which shouldn't be surprising since fisting has its own etiquette and most of the guys into it are educated, literate and professinal types, much more so that the gay population at large. At Hellhole there wasn't a chance that I would get fucked, and I didn't relish standing around, so I bailed around midnight, although the action goes on until 2. I can certainly recommend Hellhole, and anyone interested can start at their website HellholeSF.com.
So in search of dick, I made tracks for Mack, which is only 2 blocks away, and more about Mack in my next post.

The 1,000 Load Fuck Review

The annals of bareback porn, now in the 'Post Condom' era, will have its landmarks immortalized as historians write about how and when this phenomenon of barebacking developed. The history began with the landmark 'Depth Charge 1,' a fisting VHS video (circa 1997) by the Father of Bareback Porn, Mr. Michael McKey, working for Club Inferno, part of the Hot House empire...sounds like ancient history now. When I happened upon this video, I was blown away...after all, the condom police had held sway since 1989, but with Depth Charge, the gloves were off, quite literally. And in 'Depth Charge 2,' Mr. Mckey sneaked in some bareback fucking in a sling, complete with a drop of cum oozing out of a freshly fucked ass. I don't recall much outrage from the condom people...no calls to boycott or shun Hot House. Then Paul Morris did 'Breed Me,' a couple of years later, which was basically a pump and dump video but the opening sequence with a bottom (headless) working 17 loads out of his ass with a dildo...that was a landmark, too. From that day on, all bareback movies had to have an element of raunch and external cum shots. Jeff Palmer was another landmark...mainstream superstars turning to bareback, in his case by way of Hot Desert Knights. And then there was Dawson, with 20 loads, 50 loads, Brad McGuire's cum pump weekend, and the expansion into England and Germany. Landmark developments all. Now with the 1000 Load Fuck, Paul Morris and Treasure Island Media have set another landmark: the unequivocal acknowledgment of cum as a veritable fetish, and what nobody else will say...pozcum. The thousand loads injected into Ian Jay's butt are mostly pozcum loads, come on...and we're all getting hard just reading this. The pozcum is injected with the biggest basters I've ever seen, and the cum is also poured over various dicks as they plunge into that young ass. The cum is smeared over the bodies of the tops while they're feverishly fucking...it's a fucking cum, wet and wild. You've never seen anything like this, buy this video today. There are other things: there are a bunch of new tops, as well as veteran favorites like Dawson, Brad McGuire, Jerry Stearns and Derek Anthony. A new TIM exclusive Jessy Karson tops in this one, but he'll be bottoming soon enough...a new favorite internet clip shows Jessy getting fucked by James Roscoe in the Treasure Island booth during Folsom, complete with a dorkass Asian tourist and his camcorder taking it all down. You'll like this The 1,000 Load Fuck, another landmark achievement by Treasure Island Media. Buy it.

SF Latino Gives Ideal Fuck

Where I left off with my last post, I had 3 loads in my ass, courtesy of Herm from barebackrt. Within minutes, sflatino shows up for a quick one on his way to the gymn. I'm already on the bed and I'm blowing him and I like what I'm sucking; it's one of those dicks that curves upwards so that it's parallel with the abdomen. It's the kind of hard on you expect from an 18 year old, but sflatino is a way older than that, and I'm impressed. He's short in stature with a wide, massive chest, evidence of his bodybuilding, and with a small butt that drives a good fuck. He turned me around and drilled me doggystyle, with my arms braced against the bed frame giving him resistance for his nice, consistent, hard pounding. I gotta say I was really lovin' it...a good hard fuck...and then he says he's gonna cum and I get a jolting, two jerk pump and his load (negative, he says) gets shot deep into my poz azz. We kiss, he zippers up and he's on his way, no smoochy, girly cuddling and no forced conversation. He got off, end of story. The whole encounter took, ah, maybe 10 minutes. Ideal, by my book. Hard, fast and deep. Ideal. Ideal...if you can get that everyday. Thanks, R. Hope to host ya agin'.