COVID, dating and death

In the last month while talking to my therapist I’ve broached the topic of my finding someone with whom I could develop a relationship. Both times he enumerated the probability that I won’t find another partner because:

1. I’m old (according to him)

2. I have a couple of disabling conditions and currently have trouble walking very far

3. I have AIDS

4. I’m gay

5. I’m into Leather & BDSM

6. I’m Jewish and would like to have a Jewish boy. (Highly flexible on this one)

There is a saying people like to toss around after someone has a relationship breakup. Well meaning people say, “oh there are plenty of fish in the sea.” But as my therapist explained it to me the sea would be overflowing with potential partners if I was young, was the picture of health, wasn’t HIV positive, didn’t prefer non vanilla sex and kinky play, and didn’t prefer a Jewish partner.

So what is a disabled Dom to do?

That question could be answered more easily if we weren’t in the throes of a pandemic that has quite effectively destroyed casual social interaction and sex with anyone outside our immediate “shelter in place” partners or other cohabitating individuals. I do share an apartment with a roommate but we are in no way sexual with each other.

Bars are closed. No more getting dressed in leather. No more cruising in a bar packed with hot men all in search of their next conquest or perhaps finally meeting that special Sir or boy with whom they hope to build a D/s relationship.

Everything is at a fucking standstill!

Online? Sure. I keep perusing the sites – recon, Adam4Adam, GROWLr, scruff, barebackrt, grindr…well the list goes on and on. I’m even member of a couple mainstream dating apps. Now I logon to the hookup sites just to cruise the hot men online and look at their nude pics.

But, I guess I’m shocked, amazed and frankly afraid because so many gay men are still hooking up and putting their lives and the lives their “tricks” at risk of being infected. And that in turn puts their other contacts at risk of infection. The virus continues to spread. Contagion continues unabated.

When I am hit on and asked to hookup I either gently educate them about the risks of COVID-19 infection. Or with other guys I launch into a diatribe about how easily the virus is spread and how quickly many of those infected die a painful, terrifying death by suffocation. This is not like HIV. HIV infection is a slow, insidious infection that does it’s damage over the course of many years. This COVID-19 virus does it’s damage rapidly, killing people within days or weeks of being infected.

WAKE THE FUCK UP you cockhounds. Is a ten minute blow job or 30 minute fuck worth dying for? If you say yes, or otherwise try to rationalize your actions all I can say is God help you.

In the last five months of sheltering in place, wearing masks and social distancing I’ve had two massages and yes they had happy endings. I’m really tired of jerking off. I crave skin to skin contact with another man. But I haven’t had anyone here and I haven’t gone to anyone’s house for sex. I honestly and desperately need massages periodically to help decrease pain and stiffness caused by my severe arthritis. So I will need to again weigh the pros and cons of getting a massage this week as the numbers of infected continues to rapidly increase.

I don’t know what is going to happen or how long we will have to exist in this altered reality. I do know it’s taking a toll on me.

Thanks for reading,

Sir

Isolation & Social Distancing are Killing Me

My new best friend!

Ok. So I’ve been a loner all my life. It probably is a result of my deep, life crushing shyness caused by child sexual abuse. As a kid I stayed in my bedroom nearly all the time. I ventured out only to watch television, pee and to eat. I always found things to occupy my mind and to pass the time. I didn’t like talking to people. I never initiated conversations. And if someone tried to talk to me I didn’t know what to say in response to them to keep the conversation going. I was socially inept….backward, like I was raised in a place devoid of any people.

I even remember having the conscious thought that I wished I was physically unable to talk…..that I was an actual mute person.

My mother at one point said I needed to go to a psychiatrist. She was concerned about me being withdrawn, being a loner and because I was obviously depressed. It was around the time I was again sexually abused but this time by my second cousin. However she never took me, because we didn’t go for psychiatric treatments or therapy back then. “What if the neighbors or worse family found out?” My parents didn’t trust the psychiatrist’s vow of confidentiality.

It was the AIDS pandemic that brought me out of my petrifying fear of talking to people, and especially in front of numerous people. I volunteered to work with an AIDS organization in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Eventually I was voted onto the board of directors, and I think even President at one point. I rose through the volunteer ranks because everyone else kept fucking dying. Then my friend Ron, who was executive director died and I assumed that position. The sad thing about Ron who was known nationally and statewide for his work and advocacy for people living with AIDS was that when he died his family was so fucking ashamed of his being gay and having died of AIDS that he was not honored for his activism at the funeral. Also his partner was treated like just one of his friends and they lied about the cause of his death. AIDS wasn’t a socially acceptable cause of death back then like COVID-19 is today.

Wow, down the rabbit hole I went with all that. When I became executive director of the organization I received several requests a week for a person with HIV to speak to a college class, a class at a seminary or a social group, etc. My dear friend Teresa, whose husband and daughter both died of AIDS, agreed to speak if I went with her. So we became a traveling side show talking about living with HIV. Of course the pressing issue everyone wanted to know was “how’d you get it?” Every one of the attendees seemed to have a prurient interest in knowing if we got infected in a socially acceptable way. I was asked that question so many times by so many different people that at one point when I was having an intake interview at an HIV/AIDS agency that I indignantly proclaimed, “getting fucked in the ass so much.” Well, it was the real reason, perhaps it was a bit too specific for the case manager who was just doing his job.

Teresa was endearing to them because she was infected sexually by her husband (socially acceptable). Also, she had a sweet baby girl that had died at the age of 22 months. I, on the other hand….was a fag infected by getting fucked in the ass too many times and by too many men. My story wasn’t as sad or compelling. But, AIDS gave me a voice, an ability to speak to groups with just a few people and even to hundreds of people gathered after the gay pride march at the steps of the Louisville Courthouse in 1992 I think it was. Even my parents were there marching with my partner and me as well as dykes, drag queens, leather men, bears and muscle boys. If my parents were embarrassed or ashamed they never showed it.

My voice has come and gone over the years. With each new passionate issue or interest I could again speak up and have my voice heard. But now I am at an age when I can say just about anything to anyone whenever I want to. These days I am able once again to talk to large and small groups of people.

Although I came out of my shell at times to speaker openly, I remained a loner through all those years barely able to contribute to a relaxed conversation with friends at dinner. I much preferred my house, my TV, a book or a video game. I hated talking on the phone so when texting was developed I took to it immediately. I still text people and only call when absolutely necessary.

That was a long winded recap of my activism and involvement that brings us full circle up to our current situation with COVID-19. Governmental mandates to isolate at home and maintain social distancing only fortified my desire to continue being a loner.

The first 6 weeks or so of isolation I was fine. I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything. I didn’t have to get dressed (and as a nudist that’s really cut down on laundry costs). I didn’t have to talk to anyone or make idle chit chat with strangers.

But, after all these weeks I have begun to tire of 18 hours a day of Netflix and Amazon Prime movies. I’m tired of not being able to go to dinner with fiends in a restaurant or go out to the local Leather bars or to nudist socials or to Haulover Beach (to the gay nudist section).

In an effort to not go bonkers I found a diversion that would challenge my mind and hopefully fulfill a long time bucket list item at the same time. I started studying Spanish. I got a tutor through an app called Italki, who lives in Buenas Aires, Argentina. We have lessons three times a week for an hour each time through the Zoom app. And believe it when I say the cost is minuscule compared to hiring a tutor here in this country. I study about two hours every day on my own and recently, I started working weekly with a gay man from Valenzuela who lives here to help expand my vocabulary, help improve my pronunciation and to increase my ability to have a real conversation in Spanish.

But even that’s not enough. I’m getting restless after 9 weeks. I want to get dressed in my Leather and go out to the leather bars. I want to have sex. Lots of sex. I want to have BDSM play sessions. I want to start going to my dungeon classes and my Al-Anon meetings in person again. I want to have coffee with my friends and go to movies and out to dinner. I want to go to naked pool parties. I want to finally go to Haulover Beach to the gay, nudist section. But I’m fucking stuck at home in isolation from the world. If I have to go out for food or prescriptions I have to wear a mask and maintain six feet of social distancing.

Unfortunately I have risked death from COVID-19 four times recently. I absolutely had to get a therapeutic massage, but who would have guessed that I would get a much needed explosive happy ending as well. The second time was again another massage but with this one I knew it would be sexually charged with a little massage here and there. Again a huge explosive orgasm and ejaculation. Geez it was fantastic! It was definitely a happy ending. Number three was oral sex – but he did have his mask on. The last time was a simple hand job but he didn’t have a mask on. And neither did I. I gave in to being led by my “cockhead” and not my brain. But I have to admit it’s highly likely that I will do it again.

I haven’t had a submissive bottom boy up to my apartment yet. I’ve refrained from giving in to that despite the overwhelming need to restrain a boy and paddle his ass till it’s bright red and he’s dripping precum from the sexual excitement of it all.

Finally I have overcome my inability to orgasm and ejaculate. Ive been working to restore my foreskin for about three years, and I now have enough loose shaft skin that I can use that loose skin to glide easily over the head of my dick. I don’t need lube anymore and there is no damaging, painful friction burn from not using lube.

But there are two other factors that ensure that I will likely orgasm. It helps significantly if I insert a butt plug and watch autofellatio videos on the internet. I jerked off seven times in ten days. Prior to this resurgence of my heightened sex drive. At my age I was down to masturbating just a few times a month. I couldn’t get off so I would usually quit out of frustration or my arm muscles would give out from exhaustion. However, I was having sex a lot and engaging in BDSM sessions regularly. But I was unable to cum during any of those activities.

So the only positive thing to come from the COVID-19 isolation is being spurred to study Spanish intensely every day. Also I’ve gotten back in touch with my sexual energy and needs. But most importantly I have regained the ability to cum.

If this isolation business continues much longer I don’t know what I will do. Going stir crazy seems quite likely. But I just heard that the Florida government is allowing, or implementing a soft opening of a lot of restaurants and other businesses. I’m thinking I’ll continue to observe home isolation for while longer. I want to see if the number of new infections and deaths have a resurgence with loosening of infection control measures.

What are you guys doing to stay safe and sane? How are you dealing with meeting your sexual needs and desires? Send an email or post a message here.

Thanks for reading,

Sir Titan

Being Cavalier & Facing Contagion

Stay Safe

Starting in the latter part of 2019 I begin having a persistent cough and shortness of breath. The shortness of breath was so severe at times that I couldn’t lay down. Or if I did lay down I would sit up suddenly in a panic a short time later unable to catch my breath. This went on week after week.

I saw several doctors about this including a pulmonologist. The pulmonologist wasn’t sure what was causing it so he gave me prescriptions, and finally after repeated calls to his office he ordered a CT scan of my sinuses which was negative. He said if it was negative he wanted to do a bronchoscopy by the end of that week. I called his office repeatedly over several weeks trying to get it scheduled. But his office staff would not return any of my many calls. I became so angry and frustrated that I even resorted to calling the emergency number after his office hours trying to actually speak with the doctor. He apparently returned the call but unfortunately the answering service person wrote my number down incorrectly.

Finally I was able to get in touch with him and he had his staff schedule the bronchoscopy. I went in for the bronchoscopy on February 10th. It was an outpatient procedure so I was discharged to home at around 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Within an hour I developed severe shortness of breath, fever and chills. I had to call EMS to take me back to the hospital emergently.

I was in the emergency room for what seemed like an eternity. Staff would intermittently come in and do a task and leave for extended periods of time. During that time I was extremely short of breath and on high flow oxygen through a mask. Finally I was given strong anabiotic’s and was taken to a room on the telemetry unit.

To say I felt like shit is an understatement. I was given strong IV antibiotics and oxygen through a nasal cannula. My home medication regimen was fucked. They didn’t have quite a few of the regular medications I take on a daily basis and they did not give me adequate insulin coverage to control my diabetes. They didn’t understand my HIV medication regimen and would only give me one pill of the two pill combination that I needed to control the HIV. Finally things began to smooth out and I felt better after several days and most importantly I was less short of breath.

It was interesting to see after I was discharged and looked at my medical records through the patient portal that I was actually tested for coronavirus which thankfully was negative on February 10th. That was back before coronavirus was taken seriously in this country and the little orange man in the White House made light of the situation.

I actually felt I was discharged home to soon. I didn’t feel well at all. I was weak and still a little short of breath without the oxygen. But I went home. I had no one to help me or to be with me during most difficult days ahead. Oh, I do have a roommate, but in actuality I don’t think he would piss on me if I was on fire. He was no help at all. Not even once did he ask if there was anything he could do for me or if I needed anything. What a slub!

Now that I’m completely recovered from the pneumonia and bronchitis I was fighting in February, I’m faced with the possibility of becoming infected with COVID-19 through casual contact. If I become infected it will likely be a death sentence for me. I don’t say that lightly or flippantly. In actuality I’m living with multiple comorbidities and at my age I have become what is considered high risk.

I’m sheltering at home and avoiding most all social interaction. I’m practicing social distancing quite fervently when I do have to go out. I only go out of the house a couple times a week and that’s to go to doctors appointments, the pharmacy or to get groceries. Otherwise I’m stuck at home looking at TV and watching Netflix and Amazon Prime Videos continuously.

Sometimes I have a bit of a cough or a shortness of breath or sinus congestion or headache or some other vague symptoms that could be preliminary symptoms of infection with coronavirus. When that happens I become overly concerned and hyper vigilant and to a degree hypochondriacal. Even last night I was concerned because I was coughing quite a bit and I started sneezing. I had a lot of pressure in my head and I was starting not to feel good. I couldn’t get comfortable with temperature – I would go from really hot to freezing. I kept throwing the covers on and off and on and off again. So I started looking on the Internet for symptoms of coronavirus as if I didn’t know all the symptoms already.

So all this attention to illness and now fear of contagion has been a death nail to my libido and my ability to procure a willing sex partner/boy with whom I can have an intense BDSM play session. I have had no opportunities to wear leather or to go to classes or even to a bar that caters to the BDSM/kink community.

Being isolated at home I find that I’m spending way too much time in my bed in front of my television watching meaningless show after show, movie after movie. I actually feel like I am getting weaker and losing muscle mass because I cannot go anywhere or do anything.

The only good thing that has come out of this I guess if you can say it’s a good thing is that I have fully committed myself to learning Spanish. I’ve thrown myself into hours of study every day and I signed up for a tutor three times a week for a one hour lesson each time. He is a young, good looking man who lives in Buenos Aires. We have Zoom meetings and he helps me with my pronunciation and writing exercises. Anyway it gives me something to think about and it is a diversion from the reality of what is going on outside my apartment.

I survived the scourge of contagion in the early days of HIV/AIDS in the 1980s and 1990s. So I think I’m not gonna let this fucking little virus kill me. I’ve lived through much worse… Well not really. This is really a very dangerous and easily transmittable virus. The projections are that this country will have between 100,000 and 200,000 deaths because of COVID-19. My goal is to not be one of them.

As I close this post I am planning a quick trip to the grocery store which in all reality is a risk of infection and death. I never thought going to Publix could actually kill me but now it is a definite possibility and a new reality.

Be safe guys, and live to fuck again, on another day hopefully not in the too distant future.

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.

WTF???

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.

Hallelujah!

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:

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

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:

Mentor

Socialize and

Support….

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

aka

boy stray

Life Threw a Curve Ball

I posted a few months ago something that I’d written earlier in the year. I was so fucking in love with that man (boy) but it caused me a great deal of emotional pain at times, and then a string along from him that there could be a chance of rekindling a different but open relationship. Then ultimately I was, and still I am being ghosted.

How could a man who was so kind, compassionate, and loving turn into something completely opposite of the person I thought I knew?

Anyway, I’m done with that chapter in my life, I hope! And I survived and hopefully I’m somewhat wiser about men and relationships. I seem to be terrible at choosing roommates, and lovers.

After a period of mourning the death of that relationship I resumed playing with various boys who enjoy submission and pain. Restrained to my bed. Blindfolded. Gagged. And some with sound blocking earphones on. They submitted to me totally. They gave up complete control. They trusted me not to do harm or injure them beyond their limits.

And did I ever have a good time!

It excites me to slap their asses as hard as I can with my bare hands and using a paddle. But I enjoy it most when I use my hand. I spank so hard that my own hands become red and sore. Then, I soothe their bright red ass with lite strokes of my hand or my gently licking area. Sometimes I even let my tongue travel toward the area between their ass cheeks. And occasionally i will give them a deep rimming while I let the soreness from the spanking subside.

I move on with my scene by gently tapping their balls in a slow rhythmic manner. I increase the tapping to a hard slapping either with my fingers or by using a riding crop being careful not to injure those beautiful, sexy, and by now, sweaty, sore balls. I pull their ballsack away from the body hard and steady till I hear moans. I only stop when my hand gets sore or they otherwise indicate that the stretching has begun to be too painful for them.

At least I’m getting some relief from my day to day troubles and pent up sexual needs.

More to come.

Sir Mike

me, a Dom?

A funny thing happened on my way to the dungeon. There is a boy i have been crushing on in my local Leather boy’s club for over three years now. Through a series of events that put us in close proximity and helping each other after surgical procedures, we had a sexual encounter.We seemed to mesh together very well. But we were both masochistic submissives. So what’s a boy to do?After some long, intimate conversations he asked if I could be his Sir, and could I hurt him. Surprisingly, I answered yes to both questions. We each completed a BDSM checklist and most of our preferred activities and fetishes were the same. However, I was a bit confused and answered some as a new Dom and some as a masochistic sub. Our sex is very hot, very passionate and extremely satisfying for me, and hopefully for him as well with me as a Dominant Top man. He now calls me Sir! Our first scene started pretty well. I stripped my boy and told him to bend over onto a massage table. I began by spanking him with my hand. Then, I shifted to paddling and then took a riding crop to his already red ass a couple times. Of course taking my time, soothing his ass periodically and checking in with him as Doms are supposed to do. However, I was somewhat over zealous in my new role and my boy called out the safe word “yellow” while Sir was using the riding crop. I immediately felt horrible thinking I was a bad Dom. I thought, “I don’t know what I am doing.” I felt guilty for hurting my boy beyond his level of tolerance. I stopped playing. We got in bed talking and kissing, and stroking and caressing each others skin intermingled with sexual activities. We stayed together for hours and still do every time we see each other.We’ve even progressed to saying the L word to each other! It feels so good. It feels so right. I understand it’s a new relationship and we are still in the lustful honeymoon phase. But, we are older men. We’ve both been around the block many times. We’ve both had previous unhealthy relationships and are determined to have an emotionally, physically and sexually healthy one this time. We have pledged total honesty with each other. We both admit monogamy is not really likely for us, but we are still working on how “non monogamy” will look and work for us. Although I probably painted a lovely picture of our budding relationship there are several HUGE obstacles to us being able to succeed at this and establishing a strong long term relationship. But, I remain optimistic. I hope our love overcomes the obstacles, and strengthens our resolve to be together. I really, truly love my boy!

I first wrote this in late January or early February of this year. For some reason I never published it. But after a couple grammatical changes I’m hitting the publish button now.

Sir Stray

my Bionic Cock

The time came when all oral meds, vac pumps and penile injectables failed to give me a sustained, useable erection. Even though i am a sub bottom and a Dom told me once that a bottom has no use for his cock, my occasional hookup would reach down and grasp or attempt oral on mr. unhappy. They could barely contain their disappointment.

A hard cock is a sign of being excited, being engaged in whatever activity is going on and that you find the person(s) you are with to be attractive , sexy, desirable. It’s a symbol of youth, masculinity and virility. A limp dick signals: lack of power and potency, old, tired, not being “into” the other person, finding them unattractive/undesirable. Just too old to get it up any more!

However, i am not that old or tired. my libido is hyper revved and i am always looking for cock and ass. But other than just giving head, or infrequently taking it up the ass i was embarrassed and made excuses for why i was not going to fuck them or even to get off.

i talked myself into believing that the whole focus should be on the Sir. His pleasure and His orgasm are most important. And in deference to Him and His needs i forego attention to or pleasuring my cock. The thought of achieving an orgasm (and knowing i physically was not able) was also explained away by my submissiveness and desire only to please Sir.

So excuses, embarrassment, sadness, fear and guilt, and severe feelings of manly inadequacy be damned!!!

i had a Coloplast Titan penile prosthesis implanted last Friday, December 7th. It’s quite the medical wonder. The surgeon in Miami is world renown for his procedure. i have one small incision above the pubic bone and a small puncture wound where the drain was located. Minimal pain. The irritation from my completely shaved dick and balls and the occasional pulling of the staples is the only real discomfort.

my dick was left partially inflated after the surgery.  So, i’ve had a hard cock for five days now.   It is exhilarating walking around with my cock so prominently, and obviously displayed whether i wear shorts or jeans. i am proud. i am feeling noticed. i am feeling a resurgence of self esteem and masculinity.  It’s exciting to know i can stay hard for hours even after i reach orgasm.  i can keep jackhammering ass only to be stopped by my own sheer exhaustion.

It’s really funny, strange…how a man’s identity, self worth, happiness, and oftentimes success in life are so intricately entwined with having a working piece of man meat.

Kinda sad i lost an inch in length due to ED shrinkage but hey, a hard dick even an inch shorter is still a fucking hard cock.  Plus i do have a girthy, thick, fat cock…or so i’m told.  i’m chomping at the bit to begin using my new bionic cock.

A blow job for Christmas! That’s what the doctor promised. Staples out Tuesday. Learn to pump up, cycle, deflate, etc. Then watch out Fort Lauderdale!

The Men of this city won’t be safe.

Thanks for reading,

boy stray