Who's Your Daddy - L.A. Style

I can't explain it to you, man. Those of us who live in free states have a whole other appreciation of smoking weed and being a horny gay dude. You think it's not that big a deal until you live in a need to weed lifestyle. Socially and on the down low and the one-night lover and the dirty pervs. Everybody tokes; the doors open, walls fall, skin gets a friction sparking.

Not like electro-stim, but electric skin. Hips and ass and eyes and mouth. On you. Just you. A little more smoke and you've got kalaidoscope levels of desire. Cock is stone, but electro-pulsing with the taut throb of blood stiffening your cock.

Black pink red lips parting to envelope your cockhead in the wetness of wanting. Wanton and wilding. Every atom streaming. "Fuck me."

Anyway, being in a free state, there are a lot of pretty, pretty boys I call friends. With benefits. Guys on their own or with dull roomies who never seem to fuck enough. What's the point? You settle. Smoke a bowl and get naked and easy. I can do this, you know.

It's Hollywood, right? The beautiful men just hanging out, going walk-about, being cruised. The right combination of sativa and indica and every fuck is sublime, hot nasty and camera ready. I can't explain it to you.

Everyone's at an audition or going or cuming. Heavenly creatures and angelic demons, lots of sluts, What you'd expect. No, it's not like that. But there's a lot of cock about. Ripe and a bit ripe, Ready for a fuck and deposit: lips, ass, fingertips, gloves.

People in the night emerge -- like Storm Riders -- dressed in the freshest fetish for the evening. Mostly rigid cock or pouting lips. Or both. Excess of dirtyness overflowing like blackening smoke from the tip of your cock like a jinn. A filthy-mouthed whispering at your ear. "Let's fuck me. You and me. Let's just fuck me now."

Where is that perfect little femme boy? Slim and trained to pleasure? Adult enough, young enough still to keep your cock at attention. "Let's just fuck me now. Then again."

Smoking some righteous boo, just between two. Your minds will have stripped off your clothes and your cocks will be sweating. "Yeah. Let's."

A lot of guys live in houses just across the sidewalk from the beach. Been like that from the 1950s they say. Why not? Fit tanned bodies, surfer juked faces in dark glasses. The whole tribe from Sunset and Palm Springs pay a fortune to rent these palacios de California Sud and pluck svelte gay beach strollers. The strut or writhe up and down the small esplanade above the sands. A lot of guys don't wear revealing g-strings and male-kinis when they sprawl across the beach. Like slim envelopes of flesh waiting to blossom; to release their musky scent; to spew pollinate in gobby white geysers.

Across the shifting beach fogs, thinning, the smell of spunk. Your sinuses inhale cum. Particles. If not for gravity -- in space -- the cum would fall on your face. At drifting speed. Splash, splash.

"Yeah. Let's" It's said again.

Hidden in the shadowed timbers of the landward edge of the pier, a nodding head. Between the rolls of ocean tide -- shhhhhh shhhhhhh -- the low grunt of long cock shaft dipping in an eager throat.

"Fuck me." in between groans. Mouth pushed upward; hips hard and quick.

"Fuck my mouth."

Thrusting.

"Fuck my mouth. Harder."

Thrusting.

"All of it."

"Good girl."

"Thank you. Thank you...Daddy."

Grabbing her jaw. Tilting her head. "Oh. You like to call me Daddy?"

"Yes. Daddy." Her eyes closed and the word became her whole being for a moment. "Your cock, Daddy."

What I'm saying is: I can't explain it. That's just how it rolls here. Hardly ever -- you know -- a "type". Not a pure one. Thousands and thousands of wanna-bes. You want to get down and nasty with the hottest celebrity? There's imitators. There are kinks that are not dreamed of in your universe, Horatio. Know what I'm saying? The cosplay whores will show you fantastic porn-y sex but, you know, emptied of passion and spontaneity.

"Fuck my mouth. Daddy. Fuck it hard. I want your cum load."

What I'm saying is: do your femboy crossdressers back in Iowa talk like that? Do they do that cat purring dirty talk in your ear down in Atlanta? Have all the good ones got holed up in Baton Rouge and Virginia City now? Not here, man. Partly, it's got to be the good weed. It's steady flowing and killer brand, Cockflix and chill, smoke some boo, get sucked, cum, smoke some boo, rinse, repeat.

If she's down with it, let her dress for you. man. You will like it. Smoke a puff, give her one, too. Let her dance, wriggle and writhe, snake your libido. Let her fondle your cock. Pull it. Thumb up and down the shaft from balls to glans. She loves it.

Your Princess, your Queen grabs you by the hair, Thrusts against your drooling mouth. "Hard, Daddy. Do it hard."

That's date talk here. How's it where you are?

The latest rumor -- I know you follow them --is that the secret government has a black op going to control gay S & M. Or is it make everyone become gay S & M freaks? Do y'awl have sex freaks back there anymore? Another rumor says they're all being rounded up and put in some kind of sex freak military prison. There's some vid clips. Pretty porn-y. But -- it's California -- so what do you expect? Porn.

I'm not lying. There's probably fifty vid clips of me on porn sites, Some small, some of the bigger ones, I can't help it. They say I have a gift for it. Making people look and act sexy. Even erotic. Definitely wanted, sex-gods. Titans,

Oh, I am sure you have some equivalents in your neck of the woods. I am just saying that I live where all the beautiful people live. Even if it's just temporary. You can fuck or get sucked by anyone, Everyone. "It's not who you know. It's who you blow." Or more importantly, Who blows you.