Sunday, October 22, 2006

Welcome To Philadelphia

All about afterglow here.

Although it's not without some wistfulness around the edges.

I've continued to date furiously. Looking for Mr. E. "E" as in...

Choose one of the following:

E) All of the above.

But thus far, Mr. E remains 'E" as in "Elusive."

It's all been about finding a man to buddy up with for the winter. And hopefully beyond.

But, I took time out for a little recreational pigsex. In my perusal of the hook-up sites on the internet, I ran across a smokin hot Daddy. Lean, leathered, brushcut, with mega facial hair situation. Not just that "little goatee thing going on from Friday afternoon until Monday morning." Of course, he was from out of town. Way out of town. From Atlanta.

Now in general, my modus operandi is to meet up for coffee before sex. But something told me to just jump in with both feet, and I made a date for Saturday night, agreing to meet up with him at his hotel room down by Philadelphia International Airport.

Oh man.

Did that ever pay off in spades.

First off, in our run-up phone calls, he was perfect. Talking all that nasty talk, flattering me, tellling me how much he was looking forward to it. He demostrated exuberance. The Baron and I were recently talking about how rare and how winning a quality that was. And this guy had it dripping out of every pore.

Eagerly anticipating the night, I spent yesterday taking something of a trip down memory lane. My former employer, Wuperiour Soodcraft, has an annual "kitchen tour," ferrying folks around to show off some of the splendiforous kitchens they've done over the past year. I've volunteered for the past two years, and as an employee, I got to be "in charge" of a house. This year, my status downgraded, I was in charge of parking. So I spent the day standing in the driveway of a horsefarm outside of Stockton, New Jersey, pointing the arriving Escalades and BMWs to open parking spaces, and welcoming them, and radioing down to my counterpart at the other end of the driveway when they were making their way out again. So that was pretty pleasant.

Then I got dinner on the table for my dad (fish chowder, the best anywhere), and headed south on I-95.

Waiting for me was one of the hottest men I've seen anywhere. We took it so slow, kissing, touching, whispering in each other's years. And then, he unbuttoned his 501s and out flopped the largest dick I've ever seen in my entire life. Just humungous. Enormous. I just about passed out.

And I was a little bit scared. Going down on that thing, with my gag flex, would have been humourous at best. And my hole gives a real sweet ride, but it's a tight one. Would I be able to accommodate?

Not to worry. I was in good hands. This Magic Man spent a lot of time in priming the pump. For a while, he just let his head sit right inside, and pretty soon, we were going to town. I was doing the best I could with that 'rhythmic tightening of the muscles' thing, and apparently with good results.

We fell asleep, sticky with each other's juices, and were entwined together all night long. And this morning, it was Round Two. And then we had breakfast at Denny's. (The scrambled eggs with jalapeños rocks.)

And now here I am back at home, looking at an afternoon of chopping firewood.

But wondering.

At one point, the Magic Man said, "You definitely are the best that Philadelphia has to offer." I demurred, but not very convincingly.

What is it about Philadelphia? Why is this so hard?

If'n you happen to be a ManHunt subscriber, do a search on guys signed in from Philadelphia, and then compare it to your town, or, for that matter, any other town in the country. First thing you're likely to notice is that Philadelphia doesn't seem to be a town of men, just penises. All you seem to get are pictures of penises. Hard penises. Floppy penises. Penises in the pool. Penises on bed-reclining bodies. Blurry penises. Sharp focus penises. Penises. And alluring "profiles" along the lines of "fum [sic] guy loking [sic] 4 hot tims [sic] w/U."

I know, right?

Like, I'm in!

Like, Not.

It is a hard row to hoe that I have.

So I ask, what goes on? Is there something in the water? What's the deal with Philadelphia?

Not that it's universally true. But it's no big surprise that hot tub guy, who is a smokin hot man, had dated this other smokin hot man that I met. The pool is not a large one. And no doubt part of the reason I'm having a hard time finding Mr. E is because coming late in the game, all the guys I'd be interested in buddying up with are already buddied up.


Is geography destiny?

Ah well.

I've got a great job, a good life, the autumn foliage here in Bucks County is beautiful this year. There's firewood to chop. And every now and then, I get someone like Magic Man wandering into my life.


Norskybear said...

OK. I want details. Like pictures, Manhunt handle, travel itinerary... (Seriously, send me an email.)

Isn't it ironic that we both want what the other has? I'd like some nasty pig sex, please, and you'd rather find a nice, stable relationship with anyone who isn't a serial killer.

Teddy Pig said...

Hey hey hey, Let the man have a few secret manhunt friends! But... I do agree "pig sex" sounds so much more interesting than run of the mill "marriage management".

Now if I could only have both.