Sunday, August 30, 2009

Vote YES for Safe Sex

If you've stumbled upon this blog and you think it's another brag-fest about how many guys I can fuck without a condom, you're wrong. Diary of a Sydney Slut is a 100% SAFE SEX ZONE.

The reason? It's near impossible to explain how much aids* terrifies me. The thought of contracting it plagues me every time I hook up with guys - guys in clubs, from the gym, on the scene, but especially guys on the internet where lies about everything from age, to height, to cock size, and most likely to pos/neg status, tend to be commonplace.

Although I always play it safe, but whenever I've fucked a guy there's always a voice in my conscience that asks "Will he be the one who gives me aids?"

It's morbid, I know, and it really detracts from the overall fun of the experience. A psychologist might say I have attached feelings of guilt or shame to sexual encounters, but I beg to differ. I think that, like most Gen Y gays, these feelings are merely a product of the barrage of safe sex campaigns that are everywhere in the community.

Use a condom or meet a grim death. Use a condom when you fuck, or fuck your life up big time by contracting aids. 

It's stressful, but the worst thing is that these messages are right. Safe sex is much more fun than contracting aids.

Bothering to use condoms is less tedious than living with aids; bothering to avoid aids has got to be better than having to tell your mother "Look, Mum, I'm really sorry but there's something you should know..." God, when I think of that, I can just feel her heart breaking.

There are a lot of gay blogs out there written by "Bug Chasers" or "Bareback Tops/Bottoms" who boast about how many bareback loads they've given/taken and how little they care about their status.

Scarier still is that these guys hang out in saunas; some of them claim to actively infect other guys.

The scary part is that even with a condom, you can't guarantee that you won't catch aids or another STI.

That fun discussion can wait for another post.  In the meantime, play it safe and have fun.

Sydney Slut

* Author's note: I know that it's typical to capitalise AIDS, but I once read an article (or maybe it was a thesis) on aids and gay men. In it, the female author refused to capitalise it in order to lessen the stigma that A-I-D-S seems to convey in text. For this entire blog, should the word aids come up, I'll be doing the same. 

If you want to keep enjoying hot sex like this:

Then do this:

And remember:

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Fuck #1 - The Rebound Fuck

Last night I hooked up with a guy who had recently broken up from a four-year relationship. I knew this because he wouldn't stop swinging the conversation back around to his ex.

I now know his ex boyfriend's nuances, hair colour, and the reasons that led them to end their relationship. 

Sweet in a way, but I kept thinking "Yawn. Can we fuck now?"

Eventually we did just that, and the sex was hot. The guy was around six feet tall, barrel chested, big arms, smooth skin, and hot latino looks. Aggressive kissing on the couch led us to the bedroom. He took my shirt off, threw me down on the bed and licked lines up my body from my obliques to my nipples, to my armpits and into my mouth. Hot. 

For two hours the guy had his tongue all over me - on my back, my balls, my chest, my neck, my arsehole and my legs. He even licked the back of my legs and it sent shocks through my body. 

It's been a while since someone has worshipped my body for that long. I'm getting a boner remembering how he fucked me with his tongue for half an hour.

"I can't wait for you to stick your cock in me," I said, begging him to get a move on and fuck me hard.

"Oh I will, don't you worry. I'm going to fuck you so hard until you cum all over my chest." My cock was so hard, my balls were aching for release, but he worked me up and down for another half an hour before finally getting around to the fuck.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he finally asked, teasing my arse with his cock. I moaned something like a "Yes."

"How bad do you want it?" Clearly I was going to have to do some begging before he'd give me what I came for.

"Come on man, fuck me. I want your cock in me so bad."

He slipped a condom on and started banging my hole, and it felt like the fuck lasted forever. He fucked me sideways, him on top, me on top, my feet on his chest, him jamming my knees onto my shoulders to get his dick right in there. 

Another half an hour passed and I finally had my release. Riding his cock cowboy style I ground my arse back and forth, hitting that sweet spot deep inside as I jacked myself off. When I came it didn't look like a big load hit his chest. When I looked up, I saw that most of it landed on his face instead.

Not a bad way to pass the time.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

A little bit about me [or, "I love my cock"]

I love my cock. I can't rate it highly enough. Despite my adamant cock bravado, I didn't used to love it so much. I thought 7" was small and I never, ever knew that penises could be ugly. 

Fast forward from my youth to age 20 and meeting guys on the internet has changed all that. I've seen small cocks, big cocks, horse cocks, kinked cocks, bent cocks, dicks that are so bendy that curl down into their owner's arsehole when erect. 

I've seen botched-circumcision cocks, wrinkly cocks, and cocks that don't stand at attention 

Having seen a lot of dicks, I now realise that my cock is fucking amazing. Erect it measures 7" exactly (that's 18cm in case you're wondering) and stands STRAIGHT TO ATTENTION. Rigid, like a rock. It sports a huge, pink head and grows larger in the middle. Bottoms complain that it hurts when I fuck them. 

Yes. I love my cock.

As for the rest, I'm a horny 26-year-old guy with the sex drive of ten teenagers combined. I'm reasonably attractive - let's say 7 or 8 out of 10 - green eyes and short blonde hair. I'm not too short, and not too tall (5'10") and I hit the gym as much as possible. I'm toned, got abs, but I'm not bulging out of any of the shirts I own. 

Oh, and I use the net to search for cock. A lot of cock.

Monday, August 24, 2009

And so it begins...

Exoneration comes in many forms. For prisoners, it can come from a repealed sentence. For victims of circumstance, it may come from a move to another state.

For me, exoneration came when I re-entered the glorious world of Singledom. No longer do I have to feel guilty for my overwhelming sexual desires. No longer do I need to feel guilty, or to blame, when I see a hot guy on the street and imagine myself being fucked by him in a million ways. No longer do I cut myself short when I masturbate in the gym showers and think "but what about my boyfriend?"

And, to be completely honest, it feels great. I want to fuck. And be fucked. By a lot of men. Right. Now.

And so it begins...