I a man were here tonight
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Posted:Sep 21, 2019 5:13 pm
Last Updated:Apr 18, 2024 11:6 am
818 Views
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So here I sit in my lazy boy on a Saturday evening watching football. Today I fantasize about a man and his cock. Keep in mind, I have never had a man cum on me or in me or near me. These days, I give myself, my true self, permission to dream.
He is not a big man--in stature nor in his endowment. He is like me, kind of average height or shorter, not muscular, and his cock is about the same sweet size as my cutie pie penis--small but cute, clean and hairless.
He takes off his clothes and I take off mine. We get onto the bed and I lay on my back. He tells me to stay still while he puts one leg over my chest, the other kneels on the other side of my chest. He cock is almost in my face but really just over my chest or neck. I gently touch him. I rub my fingers up and down his shaft--I rub to tip and feel the sweet pre cum drips that roll out as he groans and smiles.
I know the sweet spot because I have one too, not the tip but the area south of the tip and north of the tip. I gently roll my fingers and squeeze harder now. He begins to rock as I begin to put some rhythm into my finger touches. I love to feel his ass and hardon getting tighter and tighter as he nears a climax.
With some assertion I have pity on him and finish him off. I rub and touch as he rocks in rhythm with me. With a groan he clasps my head and cums onto my chest and neck, a bit on my face. I rub and squeeze a bit more until the last golden drop of cum is sliding down his softening shaft.
That is what I would do if a man were here. Instead I will probably rub myself to a lonely climax again. I do have faith this fantasy will be real someday soon as I have only allowed it into my consciousness recently. I love it.
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An American for Dinner
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Posted:Aug 18, 2019 10:07 am
Last Updated:Aug 18, 2019 11:36 am
1424 Views
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An American for Dinner
In the fall of 93 I found myself teaching British and American Literature at a Chinese university–kind of on the edge of the world one might say. I was in NE China not far from the borders of Korea and Russia. For the first few weeks or so I was so overwhelmed with the culture shock I still smile with joy. This was the great adventure of my life, and no matter what happens with the rest of my life I will always consider this experience as being awesome beyond description. I still warn my American students, don’t ask me about my life in China while I am caffeinated. Of course, they seem still eager to do just rather than endure another lecture on Romanticism or Modernism.
I think it was during this first month I found myself in a crowd. This is not unusual in a country with such a large population. Someone asked me where I was from, so I said, I am an American. One would think I turned pink or something as the faces of those nearby changed–they beamed with joy.
It seems the historical relationship between China and Russia has never been very good (to say it mildly). In this part of China especially, the weather gets cold and the relations with the country to the north is just as cold. During the great famine on the late 50s and early 60s the Russians were willing to feed people starving to death–at a , a . This part of the world will not have a short memory–look at what the Japanese had done to them, and later the Russians and their interest.
Anyway, so here is an American standing in their midst. I learned most people assumed I was Russian as our appearances are similar. But once I was identified as an American, the dinner invitations did not stop. Everyone wanted to meet the American. I felt like Michael Jordan.
Of course was decades ago–not long after the Tiananmen Square massacre. Given the events of the past few days and years, I think of the response of those wonderful people now. I wonder if they still see America as being the home of the brave and the free for it seems we are neither of these things anymore. We are watching our leaders shouting at non-white people to “go home,” even if this is their home, even if their fathers or grandfathers fought and died for America a generation ago. How quickly we forget. Where is the celebrated freedom? Where are the brave people who should be standing up to these anti-American chants?
I do not think I will even return to China, especially now. I would be too heartbroken to see the looks on the interested faces change from joy to fear and disgust. It will be another generation at least until America can celebrate its freedom and bravery–if it ever happens at all.
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