Principles Before Cock or Not?
Assuming that Xhamster shall last and endure for a few years, and there is a strong possibility that people may read this several years after it is being written,it's probably best to state a few words of explanation. This Blog Post is being written in contentious and dangerous times in mid-summer 2020, during a surge of the Coronavirus Pandemic and the Trump-Biden election. To paraphrase Dylan, "the battle lines are outside arranging" in Portland, and possibly other large cities. People don't like each other, and politics are about as polarized as they have been since the Great Depression.
I am not precisely a "Bleeding Heart" nor a "Knee Jerk" liberal, but I do gravitate towards causes which are not beloved by the Republicans and Conservatives of the world. To-wit, I am a member of PETA, the Sierra Club, and the ACLU, and several other Conservation, Wildlife, and Free Speech organizations. I'm not particularly disposed towards the tactics of BLM, although I support the overall aims of the group, and I'm not a fan of Critical Theory as practiced by many members of academia in the present day which encourages describing any idea with which you disagree as "hate speech."
So, anyway, getting back to the basic idea of xhamster, which is to encourage the frank and graphic discussion fo sexual fetishes and practices, the point of this post is to discuss the basic question, "How much does the issue of a shared ethical agenda have to do with whether or not a person is a good fuck?"
This goes back quite a wile, to the early years of the 21st century, shortly before the 911 terror attack, when I was still early-on in my role as Transgender Cock Slut. I was quite a while removed from losing my virginity ("quite a while" could also be expressed as "several hard cocks"), but was still developing a persona. I loved the feeling of being a woman fucked by a man, but occasionally would still have fits of self-loathing. I think that my first serious purge occurred during this period. At that time I was mostly meeting men from a limited number of sources, the Adult Friend Finder group, Yahoo Personals, Match, Craigslist, and maybe one or two others.
Wherever the contact originated, however, it was done mostly by email, and website profiles, photos, and a few expressions of personal interests were exchanged. We agreed to meet for coffee and to share the expense of a motel room if we felt like getting naked. I knew that he was a fisher and hunter, and probably a vocal second amendment/gun ownership enthusiast beforehand, so I cannot say that anything was misrepresented.
We met, at a Conley's motel near Beaver Falls, PA, which had a coffee/breakfast restaurant attached. I cannot for the life of me recall what the weather was like, and I suppose the fact that it was unmemorable probably means that it was a typical partly cloudy, partly sunny, average temperature day in the Appalachian foothill country. It was in the summertime, so there was no threat of extreme weather, that much I know. By this time, the Conley's local chain of motels were a little long in the tooth, and they asked no questions if people wanted to rent a room for casual sex.
My memory is that he was 2-3 inches taller than me, and sort of lanky, and was wearing generic jeans, hiking boots, baseball cap, and a button-up shirt of some sort. If I recall correctly, I was wearing a mid-thigh skirt over tights, and a loose, long-sleeved top. My favorite wig at that time was a reddish brown in a shag cut, and I was probably wearing it, along with earrings, and some Indian style jewelry on a leather loop. We chatted, I was horny, he was horny, neither of us appeared to be a potential axe murderer to the other, and we agreed that going to the motel was a good idea.
I remember the actual sex a bit better. He got the room, I asked him how much my share was once we got inside, and he said a twenty would cover it. We sat down, turned on the TV set for some background noise, and started to make-out on the bed. His breath smelled of the coffee we had just drunk, and so did mine. He was a good kisser, and I got hot from that. I opened his fly got his cock out, and started playing with it in my hand, and then went down on him. I sucked him with his jeans still on for a while and we then got naked. I usually go into the bathroom to do that, because getting a top over my head requires I remove my wig, and I don't like to do that in front of a guy. He had, as I noted, a nice, lean, angular/muscular body for a guy who said he was in his early fifties at the time. He had a nice cock, clean, circumcised, and neither memorably long, short or thick. He was just a guy with a normal dick. I sucked him, and remember getting some of his sweet pre-cum. I could have sucked him to completion and swallowed, and asked him if he would like to finish in my mouth. Up to that point in time I had never done that, and I wanted the experience. He declined the offer, saying that he wanted to fuck me, so I disengaged, and remember putting a rubber on him. We fucked for a while in various positions. He eventually came, pulled-out, we chatted for a while, and he left. I was neither particularly elated, nor dissatisfied. He had done a good, workmanlike job of fucking me, my femininity and desirability had been verified and validated, and I masturbated myself after he left.
Okay, so it was a competent fuck, but nothing to write home about, or to write a Blog post about! Why am I spending 75-90 minutes writing this, why are you reading it?
He sent me an email later, thanked me for hooking-up, and said nice things about how terrific I had been and how much he wanted to fuck me again. He said that he had a hunting/fishing cabin near the Pymatuning Reservoir, which straddles the Ohio/PA state line, and invited me to visit him there. I used to sail a small sail boat, a 15-foot Chrysler Man o' War, on Pymatuning Lake, so I was familiar with the area and agreed.
I drove up to the cabin on a Saturday afternoon. It was a hunting cabin, for sure. A single room, probably about twenty-feet square, with a bathroom added-on, and a rudimentary kitchen against one-wall. There was a bed, a TV set, and an old couch of the type which the folks in Morgantown burn after a Mountaineer football victory, but everything was picked-up and seemed clean. What I had not counted-on, however, was the fact that the walls were decorated with deer heads, and there were a couple of stuffed small a****ls and birds strewn around on the few flat surfaces in the cabin. Imagine a smaller-scale version of the old grandfather's cabin in the original "Lost Boys" movie!
We got naked and engaged quicker on this occasion, and when I offered to take his cum in my mouth again, he said that he wanted to do that. I lavished my attention on his cock, licking it up and down, put his entire scrotum in my mouth and sucked his balls, and deep-throated as well as I could, although I did gag and produce an amazing quantity of saliva. After a while he said he was ready to cum, so I got his glans penis completely inside my mouth and got ready. Despite the fact that I was expecting it, I was still a bit surprised and startled when I felt the first spurt of cum, and almost recoiled away from it, but somehow managed to keep his cock in a lip-lock in my mouth, and took the full creamy load without spilling. It's hard to describe the taste now, almost 20 years later, except that it was salty, and somewhat bitter, but not in a bad way. I remember that he asked me to show him his cum, and I leaned back my head so he could see the white creamy stuff in my mouth. I then swallowed elaborately and he thanked me. We sat around for awhile to see if he could get hard enough again to fuck me, but it didn't work out. As noted above, this was the first time I'd ever swallowed an man's cum, so it was memorable. I had been caught by unexpected ejaculations before, but those had been preceded by pull-outs, and the spraying of cum on my face, throat, and chest, not directly into my mouth. I remember the sort of gritty feeling of the aftermath on my teeth better than I remember the taste. I later learned that I was the first girl who ever swallowed for him, and that his wife had not enjoyed giving him oral sex.
We pretty much reprised the weekend at the cabin 2 or 3 times, with the alternative ending that he finished in my pussy. We were having good solid sex, not of the "I felt the Earth move" variety, but physically satisfying, and emotionally neutral.
These sessions were not occurring in a vacuum, of course, and we had some discussions about love, life, politics, and hunting, as well as sex. The 911 attacks occurred sometime after my first visit to the cabin. Like a a lot of Americans at the time, he was prone to blurting a lot of Islamaphobic sentiments, and I have to admit that even if I didn't agree with all of them, I agreed with him at least partially. He was, of course, an NRA member, although at that time membership was not the political statement that it has become in the Obama and Trump years, and he had a Concealed Carry Permit, which is not something I'm 100% comfortable with. He had been married and divorced, and had c***dren and grandc***dren. I told him that I wasn't a big fan of hunting, but that I could agree that the deer herd had to be culled or else it would increase to the point where it would degrade the forest, as well as present an even greater hazard to automobiles. We occasionally talked politics, but because of the 911 attacks, there wasn't much controversy at the time. I wouldn't call it national unity, but it was as if partisanship had been set aside for a short while, and this was still a year or two before the Iraq and Afghan wars, and six years before the bundled mortgage bank collapses.
I wasn't oblivious, of course, to the divergence between our social views, and It occurred to me that if we were just two people, and he wasn't putting his cock inside me so that both of us felt good, it was unlikely we would be friends, but I set that aside because it was nice to have man without having to go through a whole routine of rigamarole. To some extent I'm sure he felt the same. One of the lines from the classic Bob Seger song "Night Moves" goes to the effect that "i used her, she used me, neither one cared, we were getting our share," and that's as good a description as there is of the situation.
My fourth or fifth trip to the cabin was the one which provides the grist for this Blog post. It was somewhere around Thanksgiving weekend. I arrived at the cabin and found him with the skin and carcass of a black bear on the premises. I grew up with images of Smokey the Friendly Bear and "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires," as well as Yogi Bear, Boo-boo and Ranger Smith, and was outraged and shocked. I looked at the poor a****ls head, and burst into tears. Suffice to say that the man's response was less than sensitive. An argument, details of which should be inferrable, occurred, and I left. I've never seen, spoken to, or communicated with him again, although he tried to reach me on several occasions, and I'm 100% sure that by this juncture he is now one of the hard-core and despicable MAGA Deplorables.
I've always been pissed about this FWB relationship. How much social responsibility do we have? I felt like I had let myself be used by a person who was morally repellent. Worse, I felt as if I had known all along that I was being cynical about being both exploiter and exploited in the relationship. Hence, the title of this post, "Principles Before Cock or Not?" Is it okay to fuck a Nazi if he has acceptable technique?
I am not precisely a "Bleeding Heart" nor a "Knee Jerk" liberal, but I do gravitate towards causes which are not beloved by the Republicans and Conservatives of the world. To-wit, I am a member of PETA, the Sierra Club, and the ACLU, and several other Conservation, Wildlife, and Free Speech organizations. I'm not particularly disposed towards the tactics of BLM, although I support the overall aims of the group, and I'm not a fan of Critical Theory as practiced by many members of academia in the present day which encourages describing any idea with which you disagree as "hate speech."
So, anyway, getting back to the basic idea of xhamster, which is to encourage the frank and graphic discussion fo sexual fetishes and practices, the point of this post is to discuss the basic question, "How much does the issue of a shared ethical agenda have to do with whether or not a person is a good fuck?"
This goes back quite a wile, to the early years of the 21st century, shortly before the 911 terror attack, when I was still early-on in my role as Transgender Cock Slut. I was quite a while removed from losing my virginity ("quite a while" could also be expressed as "several hard cocks"), but was still developing a persona. I loved the feeling of being a woman fucked by a man, but occasionally would still have fits of self-loathing. I think that my first serious purge occurred during this period. At that time I was mostly meeting men from a limited number of sources, the Adult Friend Finder group, Yahoo Personals, Match, Craigslist, and maybe one or two others.
Wherever the contact originated, however, it was done mostly by email, and website profiles, photos, and a few expressions of personal interests were exchanged. We agreed to meet for coffee and to share the expense of a motel room if we felt like getting naked. I knew that he was a fisher and hunter, and probably a vocal second amendment/gun ownership enthusiast beforehand, so I cannot say that anything was misrepresented.
We met, at a Conley's motel near Beaver Falls, PA, which had a coffee/breakfast restaurant attached. I cannot for the life of me recall what the weather was like, and I suppose the fact that it was unmemorable probably means that it was a typical partly cloudy, partly sunny, average temperature day in the Appalachian foothill country. It was in the summertime, so there was no threat of extreme weather, that much I know. By this time, the Conley's local chain of motels were a little long in the tooth, and they asked no questions if people wanted to rent a room for casual sex.
My memory is that he was 2-3 inches taller than me, and sort of lanky, and was wearing generic jeans, hiking boots, baseball cap, and a button-up shirt of some sort. If I recall correctly, I was wearing a mid-thigh skirt over tights, and a loose, long-sleeved top. My favorite wig at that time was a reddish brown in a shag cut, and I was probably wearing it, along with earrings, and some Indian style jewelry on a leather loop. We chatted, I was horny, he was horny, neither of us appeared to be a potential axe murderer to the other, and we agreed that going to the motel was a good idea.
I remember the actual sex a bit better. He got the room, I asked him how much my share was once we got inside, and he said a twenty would cover it. We sat down, turned on the TV set for some background noise, and started to make-out on the bed. His breath smelled of the coffee we had just drunk, and so did mine. He was a good kisser, and I got hot from that. I opened his fly got his cock out, and started playing with it in my hand, and then went down on him. I sucked him with his jeans still on for a while and we then got naked. I usually go into the bathroom to do that, because getting a top over my head requires I remove my wig, and I don't like to do that in front of a guy. He had, as I noted, a nice, lean, angular/muscular body for a guy who said he was in his early fifties at the time. He had a nice cock, clean, circumcised, and neither memorably long, short or thick. He was just a guy with a normal dick. I sucked him, and remember getting some of his sweet pre-cum. I could have sucked him to completion and swallowed, and asked him if he would like to finish in my mouth. Up to that point in time I had never done that, and I wanted the experience. He declined the offer, saying that he wanted to fuck me, so I disengaged, and remember putting a rubber on him. We fucked for a while in various positions. He eventually came, pulled-out, we chatted for a while, and he left. I was neither particularly elated, nor dissatisfied. He had done a good, workmanlike job of fucking me, my femininity and desirability had been verified and validated, and I masturbated myself after he left.
Okay, so it was a competent fuck, but nothing to write home about, or to write a Blog post about! Why am I spending 75-90 minutes writing this, why are you reading it?
He sent me an email later, thanked me for hooking-up, and said nice things about how terrific I had been and how much he wanted to fuck me again. He said that he had a hunting/fishing cabin near the Pymatuning Reservoir, which straddles the Ohio/PA state line, and invited me to visit him there. I used to sail a small sail boat, a 15-foot Chrysler Man o' War, on Pymatuning Lake, so I was familiar with the area and agreed.
I drove up to the cabin on a Saturday afternoon. It was a hunting cabin, for sure. A single room, probably about twenty-feet square, with a bathroom added-on, and a rudimentary kitchen against one-wall. There was a bed, a TV set, and an old couch of the type which the folks in Morgantown burn after a Mountaineer football victory, but everything was picked-up and seemed clean. What I had not counted-on, however, was the fact that the walls were decorated with deer heads, and there were a couple of stuffed small a****ls and birds strewn around on the few flat surfaces in the cabin. Imagine a smaller-scale version of the old grandfather's cabin in the original "Lost Boys" movie!
We got naked and engaged quicker on this occasion, and when I offered to take his cum in my mouth again, he said that he wanted to do that. I lavished my attention on his cock, licking it up and down, put his entire scrotum in my mouth and sucked his balls, and deep-throated as well as I could, although I did gag and produce an amazing quantity of saliva. After a while he said he was ready to cum, so I got his glans penis completely inside my mouth and got ready. Despite the fact that I was expecting it, I was still a bit surprised and startled when I felt the first spurt of cum, and almost recoiled away from it, but somehow managed to keep his cock in a lip-lock in my mouth, and took the full creamy load without spilling. It's hard to describe the taste now, almost 20 years later, except that it was salty, and somewhat bitter, but not in a bad way. I remember that he asked me to show him his cum, and I leaned back my head so he could see the white creamy stuff in my mouth. I then swallowed elaborately and he thanked me. We sat around for awhile to see if he could get hard enough again to fuck me, but it didn't work out. As noted above, this was the first time I'd ever swallowed an man's cum, so it was memorable. I had been caught by unexpected ejaculations before, but those had been preceded by pull-outs, and the spraying of cum on my face, throat, and chest, not directly into my mouth. I remember the sort of gritty feeling of the aftermath on my teeth better than I remember the taste. I later learned that I was the first girl who ever swallowed for him, and that his wife had not enjoyed giving him oral sex.
We pretty much reprised the weekend at the cabin 2 or 3 times, with the alternative ending that he finished in my pussy. We were having good solid sex, not of the "I felt the Earth move" variety, but physically satisfying, and emotionally neutral.
These sessions were not occurring in a vacuum, of course, and we had some discussions about love, life, politics, and hunting, as well as sex. The 911 attacks occurred sometime after my first visit to the cabin. Like a a lot of Americans at the time, he was prone to blurting a lot of Islamaphobic sentiments, and I have to admit that even if I didn't agree with all of them, I agreed with him at least partially. He was, of course, an NRA member, although at that time membership was not the political statement that it has become in the Obama and Trump years, and he had a Concealed Carry Permit, which is not something I'm 100% comfortable with. He had been married and divorced, and had c***dren and grandc***dren. I told him that I wasn't a big fan of hunting, but that I could agree that the deer herd had to be culled or else it would increase to the point where it would degrade the forest, as well as present an even greater hazard to automobiles. We occasionally talked politics, but because of the 911 attacks, there wasn't much controversy at the time. I wouldn't call it national unity, but it was as if partisanship had been set aside for a short while, and this was still a year or two before the Iraq and Afghan wars, and six years before the bundled mortgage bank collapses.
I wasn't oblivious, of course, to the divergence between our social views, and It occurred to me that if we were just two people, and he wasn't putting his cock inside me so that both of us felt good, it was unlikely we would be friends, but I set that aside because it was nice to have man without having to go through a whole routine of rigamarole. To some extent I'm sure he felt the same. One of the lines from the classic Bob Seger song "Night Moves" goes to the effect that "i used her, she used me, neither one cared, we were getting our share," and that's as good a description as there is of the situation.
My fourth or fifth trip to the cabin was the one which provides the grist for this Blog post. It was somewhere around Thanksgiving weekend. I arrived at the cabin and found him with the skin and carcass of a black bear on the premises. I grew up with images of Smokey the Friendly Bear and "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires," as well as Yogi Bear, Boo-boo and Ranger Smith, and was outraged and shocked. I looked at the poor a****ls head, and burst into tears. Suffice to say that the man's response was less than sensitive. An argument, details of which should be inferrable, occurred, and I left. I've never seen, spoken to, or communicated with him again, although he tried to reach me on several occasions, and I'm 100% sure that by this juncture he is now one of the hard-core and despicable MAGA Deplorables.
I've always been pissed about this FWB relationship. How much social responsibility do we have? I felt like I had let myself be used by a person who was morally repellent. Worse, I felt as if I had known all along that I was being cynical about being both exploiter and exploited in the relationship. Hence, the title of this post, "Principles Before Cock or Not?" Is it okay to fuck a Nazi if he has acceptable technique?
4 years ago
