SwingBot: Okay, okay

SwingBot is the M half of this duet, who occasionally contributes inane guest-posts to this blog.

So, I wasn’t REALLY talking about sausage in the last post, it was just a euphemism.

You see, as previously mentioned, I had been thinking/fantasizing about sex with men for more years than I can account, and of course the possibility of that was a bonus to this whole swinging thing.

So, earlier this week, I finally got to perform penilingus. I’ve never put lipstick to the dipstick before, though like Kevin Smith – god knows I’ve tried to swallow my own sword. Never worked of course, I’m just not that flexible, and never will be. Still, if you can trust the seńor-eata, I’m a passably good goot gobbler, which I assume must not be complete flattery since after the skull-buggery I got to do something else I’d never done. But to stay on topic for a moment, I want to muse on being a blow monkey: I really kinda like it. I mean, I always thought I would. When I think about sex with men, it usually involves a fairly standard plot: I suck him, he fucks me. In cases where I didn’t think the latter would work (because the fantasized fellow is straight or something), I stuck to the first part, because there’s always a much better chance of that happening.

Anyway, after the short (and grape flavored, thanks to the condom used) hooverism (but not really; if you suck on a condom-covered penis, all you get is a condom-balloon in your mouth), the fellow in question drilled for oil on the moon.

Now, I’ve had plenty of latex colonics, either by myself, at the hands of my wife, or on the hips of my wife in the form of strap ons, so I’m no stranger to Italian birth control (it’s not racist, I’m Italian!), but it’s really not the same as having a guy blocking the emergency exit. With a condom, it’s very close sensation-wise (everything just being a texture of latex and all), but toys don’t… throb. Okay, some of mine do, but only when you squeeze the bulb. It’s really not comparable.

Still, how did I like it? I loved it. There is a LOT of mental stimulation going on when there is a weasel in the chimney, even if it’s just my brain going “HOLY SHIT I AM GETTING FUCKED BY A GUY”. That’s a pretty hardcore stimulant in my book, but my book is also full of repressed gay fantasies, so maybe that only works for me. Also, I’m kind of a submissive please (No! Really!) so getting flipped onto my front and quickly mounted was enough to make me pop. The rest, well, my brain kind of ODed on adrenaline and ended up taking a forced holiday, so I just lay there and took it like a man.

Ever since, I’ve had this little voice in my head. It’s an annoying little voice, one that pops up randomly and pokes, saying, “Hey. Hey. Guess what. Hey, guess what. You got fucked. Yeah, you did. You had a guy fuck you in the ass. Yeah. Hey. Hey. Remember when he came in your ass? Yeah. You took it, yes you did. Yeah. Hey. Hey. Hey, guess what.”

Apparently my libido is an annoying child.