"What happened with Brock?"

This post is the final answer on Brock unless I make another post, so don't e-mail me questions about him.

The two Brock posts I made so far feature some creative changes to make my existence and authorship of this blog deniable (as always), but the substance of what happened and the emotions involved were true. Relaying more details about what ended up happening with our relationship would be a lot harder and would require me to do a lot of outright lying. You won't really understand what happened between us if I do this, so I don't see a point.

I will answer a few easy questions:

1) Did we stay together and have sex again?

Yes, we did, and I may post more about it in the future. Let's just say I gave Brock the experiences he wanted to have (yes, we had threesomes with John and others). We did things we had avoided and I thought it would settle everything. Unfortunately, these experiences were a little too good. Brock decided he wasn't ready to settle down and wanted to enjoy being young, dumb, and full of guys' cum.

The fact that I had done so many things he hadn't just fueled him on. The fact that I never got hurt doing these things encouraged him even though I tried very hard to tell him that I used a lot of care and still got really lucky.

We were slutty together for a small time but I quickly decided I didn't want to have a relationship based on having sex with other guys. We can both pursue that as singles.

2) Do you still talk to Brock or want to get back together?

We don't live in the same city anymore and we don't talk at all. I don't know why this would change. I have no desire to be romantically involved with him ever again.

3) Are you looking for another relationship?

If a find a guy and connect like I did with Brock, great, but that guy needs to be very mature and very secure in himself.

I would rather flip fuck twice a day with a boyfriend I care about than share him freely with other people. If the sex isn't incredible, meaning better than most of the sex I've ever had, that guy isn't going to last very long as a boyfriend.

If I'm craving other people the guy isn't doing it for me.

4) Where do you live!? Can we hookup?

I'm not going to tell you where I live now.

Am I interested in having sex with you? Maybe...send pictures. But probably not.

Am I interested in dating you? That's a long shot. If after sex almost every guy you fuck says, "Shit, that was the best sex I've ever had in my life," we may get along. But we probably don't live anywhere close to each other, so please date someone in your own backyard. You really don't know very much about me anyway.

5) Has the old RCJS returned?

A little bit. I still love sex and I need sex a lot. I still never use condoms. I still like other hot college boys like myself. In another day or two I plan to post another old story...my first fuck with a black guy. It's post-Brock but certainly doesn't represent a typical night for me.

I usually fuck 1-2 times a week now, a little tamer than in the past. I jerk off way more. I turn more guys down than I did. I'm too busy to ever go back to the way things used to be, and maybe a little wiser and more confident in what I want.

Now I just need to find it.

Aftermath from the Drunk & High Party Fuck

**This post is part of a series sharing old events involving a boyfriend; I wrote it a long time ago but chose never to post it here. Please keep in mind that all of this happened after I gave up being a slut and tried to be a serious boyfriend. The mindset is different than it was when I was writing the blog a long time ago. But also keep in mind that this is just a snapshot in time…it doesn’t reflect the present either. So if you don't want to read about me being a loving and caring person, skip this series.**

Brock and I were understandably rocky after the night we spent at John’s apartment. When we woke up in the morning, Brock claimed no memory of anything that had happened. I chose not to tell him that he had broken up with me and that I had fucked John.

The first thing we did that morning was get something to eat. We talked, but we were both exhausted, so it wasn’t long before we were back at my place and both passed out in bed.

The next few days were really sucky. I was regretting what I had done and feeling a lot of guilt. I told myself that I shouldn’t feel bad because Brock had broken the relationship off before anything happened between John and I, but that wasn’t satisfying enough. Yeah, we were broken up, but Brock didn’t even remember that. He had no idea it happened! How would Brock react to hearing that John and I had fucked afterward when he didn’t even remember telling me to get lost?

I hid the truth and avoided having sex with Brock even when I really wanted it. That task wasn’t easy. Brock and I had been fucking almost every day and sometimes several times a day until this point in our relationship. I had to make up a lot of excuses about being tired or not feeling right, and we were soon fighting over the lack of sex.

I had no idea what to do. I knew John had fucked me bareback and I knew that I’d taken his load. Worse, I’d left it in my ass for several hours, until Brock had woken me up and I finally had a chance to take some time in the bathroom. If John had anything, there was a good chance I also had it now. I couldn’t risk exposing Brock, and I really needed to get an STD test fast if there was going to be any hope of keeping the fire alive.

Brock was pissed off the entire time. He knew something was wrong but didn’t understand how to make me fess up. That made him feel more pissed, and eventually he decided to spend a night in his own apartment. That step by itself was really weird—we’d basically been living together at my place for months, ever since the night we met.

“I think I’m going to go chill out at home,” Brock suggested casually.

I looked him in the eye. “By yourself, you mean?”

He nodded. “It’s been awhile. I think it might be good for us. Maybe we’ve been spending too much time together…trying to get close too fast.”

I wasn’t going to admit the truth. I just suggested that maybe he was right.

“I’ll do some cleaning and wash some laundry or something. Maybe hit up my roommate since it’s been awhile.”

I agreed that his plan sounded like a nice change.

Brock put clothes on and grabbed his important stuff. He gave me a kiss and headed out the door.

That Brock wanted to spend any time by himself was highly unusual for the reasons I just explained. I was extremely suspicious of him, to the point of seriously imagining myself surreptitiously following Brock around.

I peered out my bedroom window and saw Brock walking back toward his place. He lived within walking distance of me, so I had the perfect opportunity to embrace my curiosity and see what he was up to.

I put on a tshirt, a pair of gym shorts, and a quiet pair of shoes. I bolted out of my apartment and down the stairs, walking in the opposite direction Brock had taken.

I assumed that Brock was going to his apartment. If he saw me behind him, he would quit walking and ask me what the fuck I was doing. If I hurriedly took another street that led to the same place, I could probably stake out a view of Brock’s place without any risk of being seen.

With my choice made, I tore across the sidewalk at a fast pace. I climbed the stairs of another building in Brock’s complex and hid myself in one of the hallways, my eyes focused on his door. After a few minutes, Brock appeared, walking really slowly with his phone in hand. He opened his door and disappeared inside.

So far so good. The question was how long Brock would stay there. I got comfortable and kept my eyes open.

How did I find myself in this situation? If I didn’t trust Brock enough to believe what he told me, why was I fighting to keep the relationship together? Why was I sitting here spying on my boyfriend? I felt silly. This was all my fault.

I started worrying that one of Brock’s neighbors might appear and think that I was being really suspicious, but just then I heard his apartment’s door open.

Brock had changed his clothes and appeared again, phone still in hand. He locked the door and started back in the direction he had originally come.

Fuck. I guess he changed his mind and was starting back toward my place. I checked my phone, thinking that he might send me a text to let me know. Nothing. I thought about heading back to my apartment and looking like I hadn’t even left, but I decided to tail Brock instead. If he texted me, I would tell him that I had gone out for a walk and appear at my door within a few minutes. No harm done.

After couple minutes of walking, Brock left the path that led back to my apartment. I felt some kind of shock hit me. Where was he going? Suddenly I was very happy to be behind him, with innocent and non-innocent explanations floating through my head.

Brock kept checking his phone. There were so many friends he could be going to meet, along with a lot of gay boys, that I had no idea who he was texting.

We ended up on a main road, which Brock crossed. Luckily, there weren’t many lights, so I managed to stay relatively close and keep him in sight the entire time. And then my heart sank as Brock walked into John’s apartment complex.

“You fucker,” I mumbled. “Fuck you, Brock. Fuck you.”

I knew Brock probably had at least one other friend living there, but I was fairly certain they wouldn’t be seeing him that evening. Brock was almost certainly heading for John’s house instead, and the two had probably been texting about what they would do this whole time.

Sure enough, I trailed Brock to John’s building and watched him slip inside. The game was over now. Short of walking up to John’s apartment and looking in the window, I had no way to observe.

How could he do this to me? What the fuck? I know I had messed up too, but I had only done it because I believed Brock and I were over. I never would have cheated on him otherwise—never. I started to feel crazy. Had I really tailed my boyfriend like this? I can honestly say I’d never followed someone around like that in my life. Maybe Brock and John wouldn’t even fuck. Maybe they were just going to have a drink and smoke a bowl.

That activity could very easily lead to fucking, of course. I resigned myself to believing that it was probably happening as I sat there.

I was really wishing I had a pack of cigarettes then, but I didn’t. We’d only buy them when we knew we were going out or going to a party, and that certainly hadn’t been an option tonight. I was going to have to sit outside and entertain myself or go home.

Go home with my boyfriend fucking some guy? Fuck that. I wanted to know how long he was going to be in that apartment. I resolved to stay outside all night if that’s what it took to watch him walk back home.
I spent a lot of that time crying. I felt so fucking dumb for letting myself fall for Brock so hard. He was too young for me, too inexperienced—just not ready to settle down into a serious relationship with a guy like me. I should have seen that and admitted it to myself rather than trying to make it work. It wasn’t my job to try to mature him. Shit, I was barely ready for a serious relationship myself. It had only happened because our connection was that strong and the sex was that amazing.

I also continued to feel guilty for allowing our drunk fight to justify hooking up with John. I knew Brock and I were both extremely wasted when we were trading words…how could I have used that as an excuse to give into John’s advances?

We were both doing dumb things and finding a way to trust each other again sounded like an impossible burden. I started to think it might be best just to break up without ever explaining what had happened. We could both walk away and start over again with other people. Maybe a lot of other people…

I called Brock to see how he would handle it. He didn’t answer, texting me a couple minutes later. We exchanged a few meaningless words about what we were both supposedly doing at that moment and left it there.

I sat outside for almost two fucking hours with people going in and out of doors every few minutes, but I watched John’s like a hawk, and when it opened I was definitely paying attention.

Brock emerged alone, shutting the door behind him and starting back toward the street.

“You fucking bastard,” I whispered to myself. “Fucking bastard.”

I started tailing him again, and Brock’s disorderly stride made clear that he and John had indeed at least been drinking and probably more.

I was less careful this time, getting closer to him than I had been, but he looked too fucked up to notice. Even if he did see me, who cared?

Brock retraced his steps and returned to his own apartment, disappearing inside once again. I’d seen all I needed to see, but I thought the show might continue. I stayed there awhile thinking that Brock might come back out, but he never did.

After another hour, I went back home. I was angry, pissed, and sad, but I kept it under control. I really had no idea what happened that night, and if I wanted the true I would need to find a way to get it.

I decided the best approach would be to see Brock again. We could act like everything was somewhat normal between us and pass out in bed together. And after some time had gone by, with Brock happily dreaming, I would pick up his phone and read whatever messages he had been exchanging last night. Hopefully that would settle the question forever.

I was awake far too long thinking angry thoughts or crying. It was truly a terrible night, one that was too emotional for me to handle.

But I stuck to the plan. Brock went to work the next morning and came to my place after he got off, returning to our old pattern. I picked up some beer and we finished it off throughout that evening.

When Brock tried to sit on my dick, I pretended that I had been drinking too much to do it. Eventually he gave up, and soon after we’d each finished our last bottles Brock was sleeping peacefully in my bed.

The time had come. I kept watching TV, trying to ignore Brock’s immobilized form. After another twenty or thirty minutes I figured I would be safe to strike.

Brock tossed and turned but didn’t wake up. When the appointed time came, I took his phone and typed the password in. The password had never been a secret—he told me what it was at the time he set it. We trusted each other…neither of us had secrets on our phones. I had worried that he might change it, but the password worked and the contents of the phone were mine to explore.

John was the text message chain after mine in Brock’s phone. They’d traded nearly 50 messages since they met. I read them all.

Those texts weren’t saved, but I can relay the substance of them:

Brock: Sorry about my boyfriend last night. He’s not as open as me…he just freaked out and didn’t know what to do. [lol…Brock knows everything about me, so that’s funny]

John: No worries, it’s straight. You’re both really hot. I wish we could have all had some fun.

Brock: Yeah. I really wanted to.

John: Well we should hang out tonight. You can leave RCJS at home. I have plenty of stuff.

Brock: Yeah. I’ll text you later.

That fucking bitch. Brock had no idea then at John had actually fucked me that night, and John wasn’t dropping any hints. Apparently I wasn’t good enough, though. Apparently John needed to fuck both of us before he could feel content. The bastard was beating me at my own game.

Brock: Hey man. When did you want to hang?

John: How about 11:00?

Brock: Cool. I’ll be there.

John: You bringing RCJS too?

Brock: No. Just me.

John: Ok, see you when you get here man.

The messages were innocent enough so far. It was still conceivable that Brock had just gone to John’s place to hang out that night. They’d shared some drinks and maybe smoked a bowl or two of weed…and maybe that was it. Some part of me wanted to accept this explanation and stop looking, but the rest couldn’t accept that with the truth so easily available in front of me.

John: Thanks for coming last night. Awesome time.

Brock: Yeah. I had a lot of fun.

John: We need to keep hanging out then. Get your bf to join.

Brock: RCJS won’t do it. He made that very clear.

John: Well you never know. Try again next time.

Brock: lol, maybe. I guess we’ll see.

Still no smoking guns…everything had checked out. To see anything in those messages I would have to read it in and convince myself that it happened.

There was a problem, though. That wasn’t the end of the chain. The last message had been from this morning, probably right before Brock had gone to work. There was a set of newer messages that had been exchanged at work.

Brock: What’s up?

John: Just hanging around the house, you?

Brock: Yeah, working. Sucks.

John: lol, you would rather be doing something else? Like what?

Brock: I have a couple ideas.

John: Quickie in the bathroom there on your break? Lol

Brock: I wish.

John: So what, you really want more?

Brock: I’m not going to lie, it felt really good.

John: Come over again tonight.

Brock: Can’t. I always hang out with RCJS after work.

John: Bring him too. We can all get a little toasted and go for it.

Brock: He’ll probably kill me just for saying it. No way.

John: Are you ever coming back then?

Brock: I’ll text you sometime when I get a chance.

When I read those messages now, it’s clear to me that John really wanted to include me in what was going on. But that’s not what I saw initially. No, I saw a hot fucking faggot who thought he was so hot and so sexually talented he could fuck my boyfriend behind my back without recourse. He didn’t care that I existed—I was irrelevant. I was just a way into what John really wanted, which was my boyfriend’s ass.

Fuck them both. I’m done with this shit. I got up and started gathering up all of Brock’s stuff from my apartment. I took a few boxes and bags out of the closet and loaded them up.

I had given up so much for Brock, totally changing who I was and how I lived. Brock had done almost the same thing…he wasn’t ever as slutty as I was, always pretty tame, but he spent a good year fucking a few different boys a week. We were both great fucks, but we’d both gotten tired of being sluts. That’s how it had all begun, and that’s how we decided we were done with other people. To be fair, we were happy together for a really long time. We had totally satisfied each other in every possible way for months, acting like best friends and fucking constantly. It was nice, but I concluded that it had all been a mistake. We just weren’t ready.

I slept on the couch that night. When Brock woke up in the morning, I would tell him that our relationship was over.

Drunk & High Party Fuck

**This post is part of a series sharing old events involving a boyfriend; I wrote it a long time ago but chose never to post it here. Please keep in mind that all of this happened after I gave up being a slut and tried to be a serious boyfriend. The mindset is different than it was when I was writing the blog a long time ago. But also keep in mind that this is just a snapshot in time…it doesn’t reflect the present either. So if you don't want to read about me being a loving and caring person, skip this series.**

**My blog link list needs serious updating. If you want a link, e-mail me.**

Relationships don't always go as planned.

Almost a year ago, I met Brock. Brock knows everyone in town. Before he met me, he could easily spend every night of the week sleeping on someone’s couch, bed, or floor. We both knew that a special connection existed between us as soon as we enjoyed our first kiss. I almost fucked Brock bare that night…he’d gotten the head of my dick in his ass and was trying to slide down on it. I should have just said fuck it and let him impale himself, but I didn’t wait long to make good. We were fucking bare the second night. The next night I shot the first load in his ass. And the next night he was begging me to blow my wad up his hole. Our relationship took on that pattern from then forward…we were always going up, getting better and better.

Brock and I were fucking every day and hanging out constantly. We hit up the club a few times a week, and we were always out at parties or running around town. Brock ran into people he knew everywhere, and when he didn’t he would just make new friends. We always had places we could go.

We were at the club together one night when John came up to us and started a conversation. We talked for a few minutes and he invited us to come back to his place later with a couple others guys.

“I have Grey Goose and Patron,” he assured. “We can smoke too.”

We talked a little more and he gave Brock his phone number. I figured we’d never see this guy outside of the club, and we didn’t see him after we left. Instead we got home and were looking for something to do.

John texted Brock. It turned out he lived in a complex that was right down the street from ours, so the little party he was having seemed like the perfect after club activity. We freshened up a little and were on our way.

When we got there, John and a couple other guys who had been at the club were hanging out. He made Brock and I vodka drinks and we joined the conversation.

We all smoked a few bowls of weed and guzzled down drinks. Two other guys left, leaving just me, Brock, John, and another guy named Stephen. Everyone lit up cigarettes and smoked through another bowl, still working on drinks that had been set down in front of us.

“We should all strip down to our underwear,” John suggested. “An underwear party is way hotter than this.”

Everyone laughed, and after a little more prodding we were all sitting in John’s apartment in our underwear. I had on tight boxer briefs; Brock was wearing really small Ginch Gonch briefs; John had on a 2xist jock strap; and the last guy in the group, Stephen, was also wearing tight boxer briefs.

Brock got laughed at for having a navel ring. Looking at him, you aren’t expecting to see one when he takes his shirt off, so it is a surprise. It’s definitely cute though, and our new friends agreed. I also got some attention for my pierced nipples, with Brock offering a brief demonstration of how they could be used to drive me wild.

John and Stephen started making out, their dicks growing in the underwear. Brock and I joined, kissing and groping each other.

“You guys are fucking hot,” John encouraged. “And your dick looks fucking huge, RCJS! Let’s see it!”

Brock smiled and started to yank my boxer briefs off. I stopped him.

“We’re going to lose control if we start that,” I warned him.

He looked upset. “Come on. Everyone’s having fun…so what if they see your dick? Who fucking cares. I’m sitting right here.”

Brock had a good point. I let him strip my underwear off, my dick flopping out fully hard. Everyone else followed, and now we were all sitting naked in the apartment.

We had another drink and turned the music that had been the background noise up. The two couples started dancing naked together, making out the whole time. John and Stephen got closer until we were standing just a foot apart.

Stephen went for my lips but I pulled back. He was hot, but Brock and I had just been looking for a party…we had no intention of doing anything else.

When John and Brock’s lips met it became instantly clear that I was only thinking for myself. John’s hands dropped to Brock’s perfect bubble ass and they started grinding their dicks together.

I got fucking mad. I shoved John off Brock and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him back to the couch.

“Oh come on,” John pleaded. “Don’t be a bitch like that, RCJS. Join in the good time everyone else is having and just relax. We’re all having fun.”

Brock agreed. “Please baby…why not? I’ve never done anything like this before. No fucking…just oral. When are we going to have a chance like this again?”

I shook my head. “Fuck no. You’re my boyfriend. Who the fuck are these guys to do anything that’s going to hurt us and drive us apart? We just came here to drink. That’s it. I told him we didn’t mess around with other guys and he said that was cool. We’re not fucking up like this.”

I was as intoxicated as everyone else, but I still had a lot of will power. I wasn’t going to watch my boyfriend fooling around with two strangers we’d just met.

Brock kissed me. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m really fucked up and really horny. I just wanted to try it.”

The anger died down and we all went back to the good place we had been at. I went to the kitchen to stir up another round of drinks.

The kitchen opens into the living room, so as I was doing that I watched Brock park himself between John and Stephen on the couch. John kissed him and Stephen started stroking Brock’s dick.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled. I dashed back to the couch and tried to pry Brock off, but he resisted.

“Please baby…this feels so good.”

Stephen was still working Brock’s dick, looking me right in the face while he did it. I was almost ready to punch him when John started talking again.

“Dude, go have another drink and chill the fuck out. What’s the problem? We want you to join in. If that’s too much you can just watch.”

“Fuck you. Come on, Brock.” I tried to pull him off the couch again.

“I think he’s happy where he is,” John observed. “You can go if you want.”

That option was totally unacceptable to me, so I used all my strength to pull Brock off the couch and throw him in the direction of the door.

“I’m not going,” he firmly declared, starting back toward the couch. “If you want to go home, go ahead. I’ll do this without you.”

My face made clear that I wasn’t going to accept that. “Can we talk?”

“Why? We already talked.”

I pulled him toward the kitchen so that we could share a few private words. “What the fuck baby? What the fuck are you doing?”

Brock looked unhappy. “It’s not fair. You’ve fucked so many guys and had so many threesomes. I’ve never done anything like this before…can’t I experience it just once?”

What he was saying was true, but we’d spent so much time being just with each other. I had really enjoyed it and didn’t want to let it go so easily, especially given the circumstances. John was really hot and would probably be an amazing fuck, but this was only one night…and that just wouldn’t be worth the risk.

“Why can’t we just have sex? I don’t care if they watch or have sex nearby…whatever.” I suggested, trying to compromise.

Brock grabbed my big dick. “Please, baby,” he begged again. “They’re both hot and have nice dicks. We’re all wasted…it will feel amazing.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I love you and I’m serious about you. We just can’t.”

After that, Brock gave up on trying to convince me. I spent half an hour trying to control wandering hands and ensuring that no one was left alone. We all put our underwear back on.

Stephen fell asleep. Brock, John, and I all smoked another bowl and a cigarette after. We were out of cigarettes at that point of this hard night of partying, so John left to buy another pack.

Brock and I were wasted and argued the whole time John was gone. I could write some of that argument out, but it was a pretty intense debate. Given the way it worked out, I see no need to record that shit from my memory. Instead, just know that Brock essentially said it was over and he was sick of dealing with me. I was too much of a prude and not open-minded enough to be in a relationship with him.

He passed out on the couch before John got home. I admit that I cried a little then. I really believed what Brock had told me…I assumed we were done.

John returned to the apartment with a fresh pack of cigarettes in hand. “You let the party die, man,” he observed sadly. He offered me a cigarette and we lit up as he packed a bowl of weed for us to share.

“You should just let your boyfriend have fun. We’re really attracted to each other.” John took a hit and handed me the bowl.

“He’s my boyfriend, and I’m not sharing. I just wanted to talk and have a good time with you guys.” Damn straight, bitch.

“I know that’s what you said, but guys always say that. I asked you guys to come over because I thought you were both really fucking hot,” John said slyly, looking into my eyes.

“I’m sure you did,” I snapped back.

“You know I mean it, man. You knew I wanted to have a threesome with you guys…you knew when I invited you back to my place that I wanted us all to fuck.”

“Fuck that. We’re happy.”

John smiled. “You enjoyed watching us try for it. I saw how hard your dick was…fucking swollen the whole damn time! Don’t even try to deny it.”

That made me smile because it was true. I was turned on, no matter how angry and upset I was. “Yeah, my dick was hard, but that doesn’t mean we had to do it. My dick’s hard a lot.”

“Seriously, why not? Are you worried he’s going to love you less?”

I took a big hit of weed and slowly blew the smoke out. “Yeah. Or he’ll think fooling around with random guys from the club is more fun than just fucking me.”

John looked at Brock over on the couch. “Maybe. Maybe he’ll decide that he likes fucking his boyfriend a lot more though…since it feels a little different.”

“Whatever,” I dismissed.

“Let go, man. You both want to fuck me, so what? We’re all hot. We’ve all been drinking and smoking and we’ve all got hard dicks, so fuck yeah, we got naked. You should have just let shit happen.”

John looked at Brock on the couch again, noting his condition, and stood up. He approached me, lifting his hands into the air. I started to say something when he pinched my nipples, twisting the rings around. My dick shot straight up.

“Relax. Let go!” John smiled a soft smile, twisting my nipples again. “Feels good, right RCJS?”

I moaned. “Yeah,” I answered, breathing heavily.

“Touching your nipples is ok, right? Not even close to kissing…”

He kept working them with his fingers, sending a signal straight down to my dick, which was now a huge bulge in my underwear.

I wondered what the fuck I was doing. Why was I letting this guy touch me at all? Why was I even sitting here having a conversation with him? I know I was still intoxicated, but I wasn’t even as bad as I had been earlier…pushing him away should have been easy.

“Shit, that dick is already hard,” John noted.

He took my hand and gripped it. At the same time, he grabbed me and pulled his face into mine. Our eyes met as his hand made contact with my package.

This hot bastard had caused Brock and I to have the worst fight in the history of our relationship. We’d broken up over the events of the evening, and yet I had John touching my dick now just like he’d touched Brock’s earlier.

In my horny and inebriated haze, with the worries about my relationship somewhat disregarded, I could see John without being too mad at him. After all, John really hadn’t done anything but invite us over. He was right that I knew he wanted sex—that’s always the way it is when a guy is flirting with a couple—and I was fine with him having that motivation, so long as Brock and I would be provided with free weed and liquor.

My real issue was with Brock. Brock and I had agreed to be together and monogamous. We’d kept that promise to each other for awhile, believing we were both happy and even in love. How could he turn his back on me now for a little bit of fun? That’s what really hurt and made me mad.

John was still stroking my dick. “You don’t have to feel bad at all. Your boyfriend wanted it…he wanted you to do it.”

That bitch wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. I was really staring at John now, seeing how hot he was…seeing his big dick ready to go.

He kissed me and I didn’t stop him. We had a powerful connection at that moment. I felt like I already knew John well even though I’d just met him that night. We saw a lot in each other while our tongues danced around, and I think we could both sense the heat of the passion.

“Fuck,” John whispered, touching my face. “I loved kissing Brock but I’ve been waiting all night to kiss you.”

We kept making out and my hands found his ready dick. I started jerking him off, feeling precum dribble out of the head.

By this time it was almost 6:00 AM in the morning. I was tired and ready to pass out despite being ready for more to happen.

John sensed this. “You tired? We can both go to sleep.”

I laughed. “You’re going to convince me to do it and back off?”

He pulled me toward a chair and sat me on top of him. We’d both lost our underwear again, so his hard dick was pressed up against my ass.

“Who said anything about going to bed?” John asked. “I meant we can make it quick and easy.” He pressed the head of his dick against my hole.

We could both hear Brock snoring in the background. What the fuck? I was going to fuck the guy who’d just broken us up? It was weird, but John was just so hot and so charming. I felt like I barely wanted it in the first place…he’d talked me into being this close.

Honestly, part of me felt like this was winning. Brock wanted this guy so badly he’d staked months of our relationship on getting to have him. Now Brock was sleeping…and I was on top of the hot guy he wanted, tasting his spit in my mouth and feeling the head of his dick caress my hole.

I don’t know where John got lube, but somehow he produced a bottle and started working his coated fingers into my hole. I was moaning pretty loudly, not even caring if Brock heard us. We were over…I almost wanted him to wake up and see John and I fucking right in front of him.

Next I felt him applying the gel to his dick, and then his dick started entering my hole.

I lowered my ass down on John’s raw dick after five minutes of intense making out. The sex was instantly different than all the other meaningless sex I’d ever had. John felt close and intimate…his dick was similar to Brock’s and just a little smaller, so I imagined that was part of it. The fact that we’d been drinking and smoking weed all night helped too.

John found my spot almost instantly and was thrusting his dick into me as hard as he could, pushing really deep inside my ass. He could tell how much I liked that and kept it up, fucking me to the balls. His dick couldn’t possibly be deeper inside my hole than it was at that moment.

I was in bliss. John’s dick was so fucking deep in my ass…he was hitting the perfect spot, one that Brock and I couldn’t always find when Brock fucked me.

“You know I’m not wearing a condom, man?” John asked.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. The fact that he cared enough to say something meant a lot to me. It sounded like he was signaling that he’d be fine if I wanted him to add one to the mix.

He kissed my lips and drove his dick up inside me. “Glad I’m not…because this feels so fucking good the way it is.”

I answered with my tongue.

Eventually I was doing the work. I was fucking myself on John’s cock, riding it more intensely than I ever had in my life, impaling myself on his whole length and struggling to feel him even deeper inside me than he was.

Our faces knocked together the whole time. We moaned and grunted together, looking into each other’s eyes, making out, smiling, laughing…John and I just shared the experience for what it was. We accepted the immense pleasure we were each feeling and never looked back.

John fucked me like he’d known me for months. I was fucking shocked. I had always imagined that I could not possibly find anyone who could fuck me like that other than Brock. No one but Brock had ever made bottoming feel so amazing.

My hole was loose now, John’s big pole effortlessly pushing inside me. He lifted me off a few times just so he could push my gaping hole back down on his dick.

“You love the way that dick feels inside you, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah,” I answered, working my cock as I rode it.

He smiled. “Yeah…your ass is fucking sweet. You’re going to suck the cum right out of me if you keep going.”

That sounded like an invitation. I started pumping my ass into John’s dick really hard, taking the whole length inside me, feeling his pubes against my cheeks.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “Fuck!” I was sitting with his dick right against my prostate. I could barely keep myself from exploding.

“Dude, fucking going to cum in your slutty little fuck hole,” John moaned.

I gripped his dick with my hole, keeping him deep. John held my ass down on his dick, lifting it deeper into me as he sprayed his cum inside my ass.

My big cock exploded, shooting strings of cum all over John’s chest and stomach, almost hitting up to his face.

We didn’t move, so I just let my ass sink down into John’s lap. His dick was deflating inside of me, his warm load of cum staying behind.

John and I made out really passionately after the fuck. I started riding him a little, but my ass was really sore from being torn up. Eventually I lifted off.

Brock was still passed out, probably still drunk and high as he snored. I felt regret when I looked at him, but then I remembered what he had said earlier. We were done anyway, so who cared?

I looked back to John, who was still sitting in his chair looking totally spent. His hair was drenched with sweat, which was still rolling down his face and body. We could both smell the sweat, our cum, and my ass.

John looked so fucking hot. He was even hotter now than I’d thought he was earlier, and he looked ready to go again already. Born to fuck…what a fucking stud.

We smoked a cigarette together and reflected on the night. John said that Brock and I really needed to come back sometime soon and join in on another party. There was plenty of liquor left, and he always had plenty of weed to share.

I couldn’t tell him we broke up. I let it go and didn’t mention anything about it. I told John that Brock and I would sort things out later and then we’d be fine…back to normal. I doubted that was true, but John and I cleaned up and went to bed then. I found my clothes again and slept on the floor, not too far away from Brock, knowing that he’d probably wake up in a few hours. When he did, we’d head out and probably go our separate ways.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever see John again. We had a great fuck, but I still felt guilty about it…and I wasn’t sure I could handle being around him again if Brock and I were done.

I woke up that morning with Brock standing over me, a confused look on his face. “Why we are sleeping here?” he asked sincerely.

“Because you passed out here.”

“I did? Why didn’t you wake me up to go home?” He got on down on the floor, kneeling beside me.

I made a dismissive face. “We drank a lot anyway.”

“What else happened?” Brock asked.

I immediately thought he might be feigning memory loss just to get back on my good side. If I bought it, he could avoid any mention of us having broken up.

“You don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “I remember having the third drink and smoking a bowl. Then I woke up. Did I just pass out on the couch?”

I looked into Brock’s eyes but couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You passed out.”

Brock smiled and kissed me on the lips.

“Sorry, babe. You know how it is…”

In the end, it turns out that Brock did remember some of that night. He later admitted to me that he did remember trying to make the group sex happen; he remembered feeling John and Stephen touch him and being overwhelmed; he remembered the fourth drink and the next bowl; he remembered the two of us fighting and threatening to break it off. But to this day Brock denies remembering that he told me our relationship was over. He claims no recollection of that conversation whatsoever.

But we were a long way from knowing any of that as the sun poured in from John’s living room window. I decided that I needed time to figure out what I should do. I wasn’t going to tell Brock that John and I had fucked while he was passed out, and I certainly wasn’t going to mention that John’s cum was still planted inside my hole.

I miss you, Jay!

Maybe you'll look here sometime and see this message. And maybe it will make you smile. :)

Happy New Year

Every few months I take a look at the blog world and see what's going on. I also check out Nifty and see what people are writing. It's always interesting...I wonder how many people were inspired by this blog or took something away from the way I wrote it. I'm guessing many.

Anyway, I will come out of the closet about something. I have a boyfriend. Hence the lack of new updates for many months. My crazy adventures have ceased.

As of September 2010, I was HIV negative and STD free. I've only had sex with one guy since then. And we typically go at it almost every day. :)

I miss writing this blog and I miss crazy adventures, but I don't have a whole let to tell you. If I tried I'd just be writing the same story over and over again...

School was rough last semester. 50 hour weeks don't leave too much time for fun. The new semester will begin soon, and it'll be a little easier...but still very tough. I'll keep working hard.