Are You Ready for Some Football?

NFL training camps open this week. Are you ready for some football? Go Seahawks.

Boston Beef

This weekend is Pride in New York City. It's the 40th anniversary of Stonewall, so we're expecting a big turnout.

This past Sunday I got a note from a guy from Boston who's going to be in town for the festivities. As readers of this blog know, my taste in men tends toward beefy, hairy dudes; black men; and uncut men, in no particular order.

The man from Boston falls squarely within the first category: beefy, all-American. He's about 6'1", 205 lbs., with a killer set of quads and sports a cock with a huge mushroom head. His balls are a deep tan color and sit between two meaty thighs.

I spent the entire workday today emailing and texting with Boston Beef, generally getting worked up for a fuck session we have planned for Friday after work.

Boston Beef was kind enough to send me a few pix to break the monotony of my lawyer existence. Let me tell you, if I had clients like this, I could learn to love the practice of law all over again. One of Boston Beef's pictures really lit my fire: He's standing in a room with nothing but a jock strap and white socks, his thick thighs bulging out under the straps of his jock.

By the end of the day, we'd pretty much worked each other into blue ball misery. I told Boston Beef to hold his load 'til Friday, which he promised to do. I'm a relentless cocksucker when I know a man has a load to spill, and I'm gonna milk that load out of him before he sticks his cock up my ass.

Something tells me I'll have more to post on Boston Beef by the end of the week.

Someone Stole My Jock

After my workout this afternoon, I stripped down in front of my locker and left my shoes, shorts, shirt and jock on the floor while I took a shower. When I came back a few minutes later, my shoes and shorts were still there but my fuckin' jock was missing. I guess that's kinda hot, but what the fuck: it was my favorite jock!

Stripping Off His Jock

A man stripping off his jock makes my cock rock hard.

Just Another Jock Shot

Here's a gratuitous jock strap shot for a Saturday afternoon.

Hot in a Jock

Cocky Little Fucker

I think this cocky little fucker is sexy as shit.

Quarterback Controversy: The Cocky Running Back

I am currently writing a short story called "Quarterback Controversy," which I will be publishing on my separate blog quarterbackcontroversy.blogspot.com. It's the story of two college studs competing for the starting QB position at a small midwestern college. This little stud to the left is starring as "The Cocky Running Back." Check back soon for the first chapter.

Atlas Shrugged

The statue of Atlas at Rockefeller Center is my favorite here in New York City. When I came across the photo at the bottom, it immediately reminded me of the Atlas statue. I just had to juxapose the two in a post.

The Jockstrap

I was 13 years old when I first saw a man in a jock. It was 1979, and I was in my fist week of junior high school. That was 30 years ago, but the memory is forever seared in my conciousness.

His name was David L., and he was a little fire-plug muscle stud even at that age. He had solid, muscular legs; a round, powerful ass; and thick biceps that rested against his chest. David had a mat of dirty brown hair he wore in that late '70s style. The hair in his pits was slightly darker. It fascinated me.

But David really took my breath away when he pulled off his grey Champion sweat shorts to reveal a slightly dingy Bike jock strap. The cheap kind everyone used to wear. I couldn't take my eyes off it. At that time, I had not reached puberty; David was fully a man. His cock and balls filled the mesh pouch, and his pubic hair practically burst out of the fabric.

Because my locker was right next to his, I was able to watch him from the corner of my eye. I could barely contain myself when he pulled that jock off and his fat, cut cock flopped out. His low-hanging balls danced below. I had never seen anything like it, and have seen only a few as beautiful since.

And then, just like that, David turned around and was gone, heading toward the low din of splashing water in the open shower stall.

For the next two years, David and I shared a locker next to each other in that gym. As I began to come into my own physically, I would watch him and mark my own progress. David was sort of my secret benchmark to the changes happening in my own body. Even though seeing him naked became somewhat commonplace, I think every man's memory of seeing a man in a jock for the first time should be as rich and vivid as mine.