Crystal Dick & Boring Sex

Tonight I finally decided to have sex again.

I wasn’t really in the mood…low energy, low interest, but a sub bottom boy on one of the hookup sites contacted me and I thought, what the hell, I should force myself to do it.

So, I agreed to have him come over. He said he would be here in 15 minutes. Twenty minutes later he texted that he was leaving his place then. He ended up being 30 minutes late! Pissed me off right off the bat! Plus he again asked where to park when I’d already texted him very precise instructions on parking.

So he walked into my apartment carrying a large backpack all chipper with a chipmunk smile and a quick peck on the lips. Not at all like a sub boy “should” act on first meeting. I directed him to my bedroom and he clunked the backpack he schlepped in loudly on a chair as he put it down. Then, he proceeded to rifle through the bag for at least five minutes looking for something before he pulled out a small pouch that held a glass pipe. He said, “mind if I have a tok?” To which I replied, “if I knew you did meth I never would have invited you over!” “Oh”, he said, “I don’t have to do it. That’s ok.” “I didn’t do any before I came.” LIAR!!

Strike two.

When he took his clothes off he produced a small clicker from his jeans pocket – the control button to the vibrating butt plug he had shoved up his ass before he left his place. He vibrated his asshole all the way here.


He wasn’t good at kissing. He was a terrible cocksucker. He couldn’t get hard AND he ended up being a “do me” bottom. Crystal dick, no doubt!

I think men on meth must think they are great at sex and everyone is having as good a time as they seem to be. Boy are they wrong on both points.

After I got him to remove the butt plug, there was about 20 seconds of bad kissing followed by a toothy job of sucking my dick. He only took the head of my cock in his mouth i suppose because he couldn’t deep throat without gagging. Useless!

I tweaked his nipples kind of hard and he jumped and yelped. He apparently didn’t like nipple play.

I realized quickly that he wouldn’t be satisfied with my average sized dick so I stuck a long, extra fat dildo up his ass. He let me jackhammer his ass for over an hour. He didn’t moan or make any sounds…no noise to indicate it felt good and to keep going, or stop you’re killing me. He kept his face buried in a pillow the whole time except when he snorted the poppers every few minutes.

I slapped his ass a few times but he wasn’t into that either.

However, he did keep inching forward as I thrusted the dildo in and out until his upper body was hanging off the side of the bed and he was propping himself up on a couple pillows on the floor beside the bed. Usually if a guy is getting into it they back into the cock or dido even more. But his actions made me feel like he was moving away from it. Maybe he didn’t like it. Perhaps he preferred his vibrating butt plug.

He made no effort or attempt to reciprocate, or give me any pleasure at all. At that point I realized I wasn’t a priority or even of any interest to him and I definitely was not going to be getting off. It was all about him.

Boredom set in after a while, but I wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to end it tactfully. Why I felt the need to be tactful and polite I’ll never understand. So, instead of putting an end to my misery I kept ramming it in his ass alternating deep, hard, rapid thrusts with slower, rhythmic corkscrew type movements. Finally, as my arms were giving out, and my interest had totally petered out he motioned for me to take it out of his ass.


He rushed to the bathroom and then returned several minutes later wanting to kiss and resume playing. I stood there, arms crossed and unresponsive to his sexual overtures. He started rifling through his backpack again and produced a bottle of poppers. At that point i picked up a bottle of water I’d placed of the nightstand for him and told him to take it with him for his drive home. He got the point.

Then, the asshole had the audacity to stick his vibrating butt plug back in his ass and turned it on for his drive back home.

What a jerk! What a boring lay!

Are there any guys out there who don’t use Crystal Meth? Do any gay men out there know how to have mutually satisfying, reciprocal sex, or is everyone now a limp assed, crystal dick “do me” bottom?

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not down on bottoms. And I’m not bottom shaming. I love bottoms, especially those boys with a hairy ass. I love bottoms because I use to be a damn good one. I knew how to take care of a Top.

My resolutions after this fiasco:

1. I reject crystal meth abuse

2. I reject shitty, self centered guys who just lay there like a corpse

3. I reject bad, oh so bad, kissing

4. I reject gay men who can’t proficiently suck a dick without scraping their teeth along the shaft of my cock like they are shredding cheese

5. I reject guys who bring a shit load of toys – primarily dildos – that they intend for me to shove up their asses. It’s an immediate indication that this encounter will be all about them

6. I reject agreeing to hookup when I really don’t want to and with guys I’m not really interested in

7. And I reject remaining silent when the guy turns out to be on meth and is here only for me to “do” them

How can a fifty something year old gay man NOT know how to suck cock like a professional? Cocksucking is Gay 101. It’s the first thing you learn when you realize you like dick.

I just thought of an entrepreneurial idea – a course for gay men on how to have mutually satisfying sex (making love but in the absence of love) AND a course on sensual, deep kissing for beginners. Oh, and for all you guys who can’t adequately suck a dick – Cocksucking 101.

Have any of you had similar experiences? Do you run into a lot of crystal meth users where you are? Anyone want to admit they are lousy cocksuckers? Any meth users want to refute my opinions? What do you think about my business idea?

Hope to hear from you guys

Thanks for reading,

Sir Titan

Living a Life of Purpose, or Not

All my life I’ve felt I had a purpose for living, breathing, and taking up space on this planet – for existing. My purpose was to help other people…to provide care, support, nurturing and reassurance. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m overly sensitive and feel compelled to put others before me. I, even to this day, offer help to people when doing so could be emotionally, physically and/or financially detrimental to myself. That’s just how I’m wired. And that’s probably why I went into a healthcare profession forty years ago and poured myself into volunteerism for most of my life.

But that changed for me a few years ago when I had to go on disability. I was no longer able to work which kept me from getting my daily “fix” – the reassurance that I was here for a reason. My life became all about me: my pain, disability, cancer treatments, doctor’s appointments, and taking dozens of pills every day. I started thinking that there was no real reason left for me to live. If you don’t serve a purpose on earth it must be time to check out!

Over the many years of my existence I remember being flabbergasted repeatedly watching people go through their lives as self-centered and uncaring SOBs. What was their contribution to society, to making this world better? What was their purpose? How can they go through life like that? How can people only be concerned with themselves and their own daily existence.

But this post isn’t about them.

I haven’t worked in nearly four years and I feel a deep void in my life. I frequently offer to help friends who are having surgery, whose partners are dying of some horrible disease and to friends who “should” want my presence and comfort as they grieve the death of their partner. But every time, my offers are rebuffed. They prefer to go it alone – without me.

How dare they not want me? How dare they not validate my need to have a reason to exist? How dare they not meet my needs in their darkest days? Funny…it just hit me that although I honestly want to help, it is also about me, about stroking my ego and reassuring me that I am needed and wanted.

So, I keep searching for my purpose in life given my current age, health status and level of disability. I feel driven to do something. To uncover somehow my reason for being.

I watch YouTube videos. I listen to Podcasts. I search Google. I peruse lots of websites, fill out quizzes and surveys, and I’ve taken many online classes in an effort to identify my purpose – to justify my continued existence

So far I’m coming up blank. But, I do have hundreds of pages of shit that I’ve printed out that now take up permanent residence scattered on the empty side of my bed. And it dawned on me the other day that I keep my bed filled with papers and books to psychologically deter me from hooking up, dating or simply retraining some random boy to abuse for a couple hours. How will I ever find love if I’m not tying boys to my bed and spanking their asses?

What if there is no reason to exist?

What if we are all just like those lemmings that march forward dutifully, unsuspecting, going about our lives until we reach the cliff, and it is then our turn to fall into oblivion?

Maybe it’s time I accept that I have no purpose. I am just here by chance living in this day and time awaiting my turn…my turn to fall into nothingness.

For many years I’ve seen starving babies in far away places dying for lack of food and safe water to drink. I’ve seen men, women and children all innocent victims trying to go through life, to make a living and to find some joy and happiness being savagely murdered as pawns by sadistic overlords and brutal dictators. And, somewhat less dramatic and frightening, but closer to home, I see daily reports on the news of people trying to go through life, making plans and enjoying their lives when they are for no sensible reason murdered, killed in car accidents or burned to death in fires. And my prevailing thought is that they were born, existed, and went through their whole life only to arrive at this point – to die suddenly, horrifically and seemingly for no real reason! Was their entire life destined to be lived for that very purpose? To die tragically. To be buried and for the most part forgotten within weeks.

I think it’s time for me to stop looking for some esoteric purpose for my life and to toss all of this paper out of my bed.

Maybe my real purpose now is just to tie up submissives boys and meet both our needs sexually, physically, emotionally and spiritually by taking them through a myriad of sensations of pain and pleasure. Maybe my only real purpose in life now is to Dominate submissive boys, and their only purpose in life is their submission to my Dominance!

What do you think? Do you have a “purpose” for living, for existing? If so, tell me what you think. I’m truly interested to hear your opinion.

Thanks for reading.

Sir Titan

And so it goes….

***This blog post was written December 3, 2019….but I forgot to publish it. So it will be out of sync with the post I just published. Sorry for the confusion.

My most recent post left out something extremely significant that happened in October.

I was diagnosed with a recurrence of the anal cancer I was originally diagnosed with in 2016. There was a brief, very brief discussion of the possibility of an AP resection to remove the cancer. An AP resection is the complete surgical removal of the anus and rectum with the creation of a colostomy. I immediately dismissed that as an option.

When I was in college to become a registered nurse I saw my first colostomy and resolved then, and there, I would never consent to having that done to me. I guess I’m way to vain to live with that the rest of my life. And, even though I’d never had sex at that time, I now realize how important my asshole was/is to my sex life.

So the only real option for me was to have a simple resection of the anal tumor, which was done on October 21, 2019.

Initially there was some pain postoperatively, but then it was only painful to shit…and to be gross for a second – quite messy. I had to shower each time to actually get and feel clean so I took 5-6 showers every day. That continued for weeks, but thank god it finally decreased to just one or two a day. But I’m still having a bit of wound drainage/moisture because the fucking stitches broke leaving me with an open wound that is healing extremely slowly.

My libido tanked. Plus even if I wanted to have sex, I was afraid of risking an infection or injury from the physical act of being with someone sexually. So it’s been six weeks since my last sexual encounter. I only recently jerked off – successfully – and that took a lot of effort, porn videos, a really slender butt plug and repeated tries before I got to the full explosion of orgasmic relief.

Anyway. I’m on my way to a full recovery. I’ve even started searching the hookup sites again and chatting with a few boys. But when it comes to actually hooking up, I back out with some lame excuse.

I suppose I’m somewhat depressed even though I won’t admit that to anyone. I have been living in my bedroom, mostly in bed binge watching Netflix and Amazon Prime movies and series shows. I have realized how abysmal most gay movies are with the amateurish acting, boring plotlines, and the poor sound and video quality. And I probably enjoy murder and serial killer movies a bit too much.

I put away all my sex toys and implements of pain and pleasure. I finally took the large portrait of the boy I was/am in love with off the wall.

I’m waiting for full asshole recovery, return of my libido and quite frankly my getting over the feeling that no one I’ve been with since my breakup has been as enjoyable or compatible as my boy.

There are many activities and places for a kinky Leatherman to go now. There are dungeon meetings, support and educational opportunities, play parties, munhes, gay Leather bars to go to and even Leather and BDSM/kink organizations to join in my area. One day soon I will once again plunge into the smorgasbord of options to get involved with as a gay Leatherman.

To end this blog post I will tell you that the scene name I selected when i initially transitioned to being a Dom was plain, boring and anything but unique. So last week I chose a new name. I wanted a name that is powerful and unique.

I am now Sir Titan.

Thanks for reading my ramblings.

The Sting of Rejection

Last month (December 2019) I submitted an application to join a small, gay men’s Leather club in my city. I assumed it was a simple formality to gather demographic information, and to learn about my experience, interest and commitment to the BDSM/KINK lifestyle and community. Also it asked for talents and skills that would potentially be a benefit to the club and its members.

I’d submitted the application twice before to this club. The first time I was added to the email list and received notices of some meetings. However, with some of the email meeting announcements I got a personal note as well saying that I couldn’t attend business meetings and I co

uldn’t attend special meetings. So I never knew from month to month if I should plan on going or not. So I was really confused. I don’t remember now exactly, but it seems at some point I just stopped receiving the meeting notices. I did attend some meetings, the ones that were educational and a couple social ones. But, there was no real structure or regularity for when I could and couldn’t attend.

Also, around that time I was unable to attend because of the demise of my long term relationship. After 38 years I packed up what I could get in my car and left. So the club was not exactly a priority at that time. Plus I was already a member of the boys club so I had a connection to the gay men’s leather scene here.

In addition to my personal relationship problems, I heard a rumor that was later confirmed, that there was conflict within the leather club and among quite a few of its members.

Then in early 2019 I contacted the secretary of the club to resubmit my application. Again I received notices of some meetings or socials. At the same time I was really hot and heavy, and deeply in love, with a man who wanted me to be his Sir. I thought it would be beneficial as a new Dominant/Top/Sir to be a part of the club to better develop as a Dom. My boy and I attended one of that club’s socials, a pool party, together and I thought we had a good time.

Later, on the way home the boy said he didn’t care for some of the members of the club and didn’t want to join or be involved with them. But he didn’t want his opinion to sway my interest in completing my application process. After some consideration, and in a cloud of love, i ended up aligning with him and rescinded my application.

Well, if you’ve read any of my blogs from last year you know how that relationship disastrously imploded on May 1st. Also, I ended up having 3 surgeries in a ten month period of time. So, i wouldn’t have had the time, ability, emtional state or stamina to have maintained my commitment to the application and “trial” period anyway. So it was a good decision at the time not to join.

But, by December 2019 I was ready to get back in the saddle – or sling, as it were – and recommit to my interest in and dedication to the gay men’s Leather community. So, I attended a large Leather community Holiday dinner with over fifty leatherfolk – nearly all men. i sat next to a member of the club and his boyfriend. And we had a nice time together.

Then, a little over a week later I met with that same friend who is one of the club’s officers for coffee. We discussed the club and my history with the Leather community and in the BDSM/Kink lifestyle. I was given an application and told how the process would proceed.

That night I completed the application and confidently submitted it online via text to my friend with whom I’d had coffee.

The holidays came and went. No word from anyone about upcoming meetings or anything pertaining to my membership application. So on the 4th of January I messaged my friend, the one who gave me the application. No response from him until the next day.

Then Sunday morning I received what I felt was a cold response:

Thank you for your interest in xxxxxxx (name of the club club).
Unfortunately your application for membership was voted on and denied.
xxxx (friend’s name)

No explanation from him about why I was rejected.

Dumbfounded doesn’t adequately express my feelings. I had to reread the message a couple times. Why would I be denied membership? I know quite a few of the men in the really small club. Which members would vote against my admission to the club and why?

A year or so ago the club fractured losing about half of its membership. So silly me assumed my application would happily be accepted and my interest and presence would be welcomed. Color me surprised at how delusional I was about the club and its members!!

This is a description of the club from their Facebook page:

So where in their rejection of me do they adhere to the statement that they exist to:


Socialize and


members of the gay men’s Leather community??

Ok. You may think, well it was your 3rd application submission. How committed to membership was I? I hadn’t followed through with the first two. I’ll grant you that. But if there was a question about my sincerity, why didn’t someone just simply call or text to discuss my previous applications and to discern my level of interest and commitment to follow through with this application?

I entered 2020 with new excitement, new hopes and a rekindled desire to be active and involved after the very difficult physically and emotionally draining year of 2019. I wrote down a list of organizations, clubs, meetings and volunteer activities that I wanted to pursue this year in order to make friends, find a purpose in life, grow in my knowledge and skills as a Dom…and perhaps find a real boy to be my boyfriend in 2020.

What a shitty fucking thing to do!!

No wonder they lost half of their membership. You would think they would be out soliciting membership in the name of support, mentorship and inclusivity they espouse in the already small Leather community.

After my initial feelings of shock, anger and sadness, I realized if that is their prevailing attitude and approach to someone who has been in the community for about four years who wants to join, then I don’t want to be member.

When I was a new nurse I was told “nurses eat their young!” That meant older, experienced nurses made it very uncomfortable and unwelcoming to new nurses fresh out of nursing school.

I’m not quite sure why that attitude and approach to new nurses developed. One would think nurses, who are notoriously over worked, under paid, and chronically short staffed would welcome and nurture new nurses – reinforcements, as it were. But, no. My first years working in a hospital were difficult, and made even more so by the older seasoned nurses who made life miserable for me.

I made a personal vow not to continue that legacy. I always welcomed, supported, encouraged, educated, nurtured and appreciated every new nurse who joined our ranks.

It’s really too bad, and so sad, that the gay men’s Leather club in my city has such an exclusionary, cliquey presence.

I’m better off without them. And it’s really, ultimately their loss!!

Thanks for reading,

Sir Titan


boy stray