Travel Diary: Beef in Milwaukee
As I begin, I recall an enjoyable fuck from earlier this year when I visited Milwaukee.
I enjoy all types of men but there's a particular fondness for beef. Occasionally, I post a Craigslist ad requesting a "massage." Those kinds of posts can net diverse selections — from rent boys to old men to legit therapists who don't mind the happy ending.
This man didn't qualify for any of the above. He wasn't looking for cash and he turned out to be attractive. But he obviously wasn't a therapist (and admitted such) but claimed to have given many "amateur" massages that had been described as professional level.
I've been to Milwaukee before and, in general, find the city a little wanting in the male hookup department. Getting legit responses proves difficult. But the beefy man arrives on time. A little shorter and a little beefier, he still passes muster and I usher him in. I strip down and drop to the bed on my stomach as he eases only down to his boxers.
The massage begins. Actually, I can't legitimately call it a "massage." He greased up his hands and begins rubbing. Not quite following the contours of the muscle groups, he constantly applies incredible pressure to areas that exhibit no knots.
He's also remarkably fast. Within 10 minutes, he's ready for me to flip over, which is fine by me as I don't know if I can take any more of this untrained flesh grab. So I start working a little charm to get the boxers off and get things started.
Within a minute, he's swallowing my cock and bringing it to full mast. The poor beefy mass has begun sweating profusely, making for a delightful mix of oil and sweat as we begin to roll around and I finally get his boxers off.
His body is smooth — seemingly a mix between Latino and Asian. He carries his meat well. His dick, well, isn't much but its girth seems respectable and it's almost a handful in length. A few rubs in the south and he's pushing my hand off his cock — too much will make him cum. Boy, this is going to be easy.
Now I roll him over on his stomach and find that hairless pucker. Stretching his cheeks open, his hairless winker stares back and I plunge in. The tongue assault lasts only a moment and he's squirming. I lick up his back until my cock lays in his crack and begin to kiss his neck. His back arches and I find that hole with my cock-head. No discussion of condoms is needed as I push inside and he pushes back. Spit and sweat are all we need.
Within moments, we begin a good hour of fucking. Despite all his beef, he maneuvers easily and I find fucking him from every possible angle works just fine. He enjoys every moment. And if I dare touch his cock, I'm warned off.
A perfect bottom. All this one wants is a little kissing and it makes him hunger for more.
I had nothing better to do that evening, so I took my time before taking that last deep hit of poppers and push deep as I can get it to unload in his ass.
After churning it up and assuring my load is well planted, I do the polite thing to urge him toward cumming, but again, he shuffles me off. We end up separating and doing some small talk. I finally learn his name but I lie about mine. I don't tell him the truth about anything. Variations on a character I've developed for on the road. Wife at home. Kids. No sex. None. Don't count fucking guys as cheating. Etcetera.
He leaves me sexually satisfied but the muscle pain in my neck remains.
I enjoy all types of men but there's a particular fondness for beef. Occasionally, I post a Craigslist ad requesting a "massage." Those kinds of posts can net diverse selections — from rent boys to old men to legit therapists who don't mind the happy ending.
This man didn't qualify for any of the above. He wasn't looking for cash and he turned out to be attractive. But he obviously wasn't a therapist (and admitted such) but claimed to have given many "amateur" massages that had been described as professional level.
I've been to Milwaukee before and, in general, find the city a little wanting in the male hookup department. Getting legit responses proves difficult. But the beefy man arrives on time. A little shorter and a little beefier, he still passes muster and I usher him in. I strip down and drop to the bed on my stomach as he eases only down to his boxers.
The massage begins. Actually, I can't legitimately call it a "massage." He greased up his hands and begins rubbing. Not quite following the contours of the muscle groups, he constantly applies incredible pressure to areas that exhibit no knots.
He's also remarkably fast. Within 10 minutes, he's ready for me to flip over, which is fine by me as I don't know if I can take any more of this untrained flesh grab. So I start working a little charm to get the boxers off and get things started.
Within a minute, he's swallowing my cock and bringing it to full mast. The poor beefy mass has begun sweating profusely, making for a delightful mix of oil and sweat as we begin to roll around and I finally get his boxers off.
His body is smooth — seemingly a mix between Latino and Asian. He carries his meat well. His dick, well, isn't much but its girth seems respectable and it's almost a handful in length. A few rubs in the south and he's pushing my hand off his cock — too much will make him cum. Boy, this is going to be easy.
Now I roll him over on his stomach and find that hairless pucker. Stretching his cheeks open, his hairless winker stares back and I plunge in. The tongue assault lasts only a moment and he's squirming. I lick up his back until my cock lays in his crack and begin to kiss his neck. His back arches and I find that hole with my cock-head. No discussion of condoms is needed as I push inside and he pushes back. Spit and sweat are all we need.
Within moments, we begin a good hour of fucking. Despite all his beef, he maneuvers easily and I find fucking him from every possible angle works just fine. He enjoys every moment. And if I dare touch his cock, I'm warned off.
A perfect bottom. All this one wants is a little kissing and it makes him hunger for more.
I had nothing better to do that evening, so I took my time before taking that last deep hit of poppers and push deep as I can get it to unload in his ass.
After churning it up and assuring my load is well planted, I do the polite thing to urge him toward cumming, but again, he shuffles me off. We end up separating and doing some small talk. I finally learn his name but I lie about mine. I don't tell him the truth about anything. Variations on a character I've developed for on the road. Wife at home. Kids. No sex. None. Don't count fucking guys as cheating. Etcetera.
He leaves me sexually satisfied but the muscle pain in my neck remains.
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