Is Watching a Guy Dump Considered Scat?

by Diego

I said watching only, not eating the dump. I ask because, as of late, I have been dealing with the urge to have a straight guy over, watch him take a shit in my toilet (not on me), then wipe his ass a little bit (like 90% clean) then eat him out. I know I can't be the only bottom with this desire.

While rimming is, really, a top's job, I do not mind doing it if I am sure the guy is straight. But I don't think I could ever have a guy who likes to be rimmed as my boyfriend. I would always be suspicious that if he likes a lil' tongue up in there, he will also like a little dick. But for hook-ups I think it's hot to rim a butch ass out. And, unless they are Latino, they ALWAYS love the idea.

So one of my core set of questions when setting up a Craigslist-enabled hook-up is: "Do you like being rimmed? Can you leave your ass a bit smelly, sweaty for me? Matter of fact, can you take a dump in front of me?"


I would say about 30% of guys get totally freaked out and stop responding, or respond: "Sorry, not into scat". But the rest totally dig the idea. But it doesn't seem that watching a guy dump would count as scat since you are not ingesting the dump, right? I have no interest in tasting the turd, I just wanna witness its coming out. Maybe because it's not a very well documented nor well experienced sight, maybe because I can give visual proof to their top-ness (as long as there is something coming out of the ass, there ain't nothing going in the ass).

The last guy who came over to do this "scat light" scene said he was gonna surely dump and do this and that, but all he was able to shit was tiny little pieces of shit. Like little bird droppings or whatever. So I wasn't satisfied. The second guy dropped a small (I'd say about 4-inch long) turd, but at least it made a lot of noise when it came out of his asshole, so that was hot. The third guy said he got "shit shy" and just had me eat his ass for, literally, an hour and a half. At that point even pussy would have tasted great.

My fag hag tells me that "shit watching" may be a gateway to "actual scat", like they say marijuana is an entry drug for other hard drugs. But if it is so, then so be it. I mean, it's not like I can't brush my teeth after. I just need to get a doctor's confirmation that it won't give me cavities or leprosy or whatever. But I have found that the smell alone enhances the sexual experience. An organic kind of poppers, if you will.

By the way, for those interested, this is a fun little website: www.adventuresindefecation.com

Question of The Week: Is White Sex Less Boring Than Watching Paint Dry?

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5 Reasons to Visit Brazil This Holiday Season

by Diego


1. Anyone who's done -- or, rather, who has been done by a Brazilian knows that they are a different breed of men altogether. And you thought it was after the blacks that you couldn't come back! Look at those biceps. And the thing about it is, they don't even work out! They just haul rocks all day and surf. Oh, and they never wear any sunblock either, it's "gay".


2. Don't be fooled by the skimpy underwear: they usually don't wear any. That's gay too, down there. Can you just imagine the damage those hands could do to your pretty little American ass?


3. Don't be getting no ideas now, even getting rimmed is out of the question for straight Brazilians. They may fuck anything that walks, but they'd be rather caught dead than have anyone even touch their butts.


4. Did anyone say 'the perfect pillow'? All organically sculpted by hanging out at the beach playing soccer shirtless 6 hours a day, trying to score some pussy (don't worry, their definition of pussy is pretty broad).



5. Oh, his name is Marcos, if you really needed to know. And he is not even out of the ordinary for straight Brazilian men. They are a dime a dozen like that. So, you on Travelocity yet?

NoWayAmIGay.com Shocker: Some Straight Men Don't Go Gay!

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Down With Blowing Married Guys with Condoms!

by Diego

I understand they are trying to safeguard their wives' pussies, but that shouldn't mean I have to taste nasty latex oil crap when I give head. It is totally anti-climactic, anti-hedonist, anti-desire, basically fascist to expect me to feel the taste of slimy latex when I give blow jobs. HE gets all the pleasure (you know "them", it takes them very little to get pleasure) while I/WE are left pleasure-less just so they can CHEAT on their wives and yet not give them gonorrhea. In the mean time the motherfuckers wanna shoot the cum down our throats! I don't think so.


I'm gonna have to start including "Do you get head with a condom on or without?" in my list of things to ask before inviting straight guys over. I already have to go through a barrage of them without sounding too inquisitive: age, stats, location? How hung? Top, vers or bottom? Hit ass raw or rubbers? Suck or just get sucked? (if they say they suck immediately hit delete) Eat ass or like yours eaten? Into gangbangs, tagteams? You smack ass, slap face, spit on me? And my fave: would you mind taking a shit so that I can watch and then wipe you?

No, I'm not into scat. There's a difference between watching someone dump and eat what he is dumping. I suppose it's the excitement, the reassurance of seeing something come out of the ass meaning nothing will be going INSIDE the ass. That way I tell myself, with visual proof, that the guy is actually straight, not a bottom in disguise.


Anyway, my last trick of the day came over and he was like 5 inches shorter than expected (in height) and pulled out a condom as he unzipped his pants for me to suck. Bitch, please, why even bother? Fuck your dog's mouth instead, or the little gap between your mattress and the bed frame, idiot. You wanna use a dental dam to eat my ass out too? Or maybe some aluminum foil? A nice thick fabric swatch perhaps? Bitch, if you don't want your wife to get syphilis stop fucking around with other bitches in the first place. But if you are gonna do it, actually do it. Anyways, I was horny and it was either blowing plastic slime off his dick or going to class without having sucked dick all day long, so I blew plastic. It could have been worse, it could have been pussy.

I Am So Post-Gay

by Diego Costa

I finally went to B Bar (40 E. 4th Street) after several months of limiting my social/sexual life to Craigslist postings. And what a strange feeling. Wandering human eyes laid on you; actual bodies brushing against yours; strangers approaching you before you get their cock pics; engaging in conversation before even a blow job is consummated -- the whole bit. Quite bizarre. And after all this theater ("Oh, I love your jeans!"), still no cock. AND you have to pay $9 per drink to even just be there. Honey, Craigslist is free and you get to find out people's dick sizes (and get a pictorial sense of what they look like) even before they ask your name, bitches.

Not that I'm advocating for the complete boycotting of public queer spaces. But one can actually be way more pragmatic staying home, waiting for one's roommates to go to bed, dressing up in drag and posting as a tranny. The amount of straight guys you get trying to come "fake-rape" you is not even funny. You can even be as picky as deciding whether you wanna have Puerto Rican or Dominican dick tonight. No more settling for second best. No more settling for the least faggie one, for the least bottom one. These are real men whose jobs consist of hauling heavy metal structures and eating pussy. And they often have done time! And have the tattoos to prove it.


I was at B Bar because this old, old trick of mine happened to be in Manhattan and invited me over. He is one of those left-over tricks from back in the day when I was gay. Gay in the sense that I lived for working out Monday thru Friday and going to the club Friday thru Sunday to show the body off and suck as much half-decent/half-masculine dick as possible. No longer, honey: it's all about the intelligently managed Craigslist hetero-dick from the Bronx, honey. I'm talking big, black, uncut married Brazilian cock who doesn't even know what SoHo is, bitches. The kind of dick who doesn't even care if it hits ass with condoms or raw cause it's so straight it thinks that the worst it can happen is a woman might get pregnant. And what are the odds of that!

Anyway, once in a while you do get a few duds, like the last response I got. He was Latin and everything but, "Never married, No kids" (bad), "Loves pets, kids" (who cares), "masters degree" (faggot), "I love dancing, film, live music, cooking and eating" (and you think you're not a bottom because...), "Looking for a friend that could lead to LTR" (what are you, me?).

But most of the time I get: "Whassup, ma, that shit looks good enough to eat, when can I hit that pussy? -- one", which is too priceless for fucking words.

At B Bar the most action I got was a "you have the most gorgeous eyes" from old trick. And, honey, I wear contacts, and last time I checked there was no such thing as ocular sex, so shove it.

For more Diego blogs, click here.

StraightGuysFondled.com: Look And Even Touch!

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CRAIGSLIST Posting of The Week

A "Grace" Looking For Her "Will" - w4mm - 21

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Reply to: pers-451643049@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-17, 12:38PM EDT


fair warning: I'M A GIRL. (i could hear it now, "hisss ooo girl cooties!' lol) i posted in m4m cuz i figured id get the most responses this way. im a constant lurker here and after many attempts to make girl friends i decided to revisit my 'fag hag' roots. i used to have more gay guy friends but they somehow evaporated :[. im a sweet & quirky jewish girl, kinda like 'Grace Adler' lol. i love fashion & 'bazaar' & that Skinny Bitch book. i love makeup & sehpora & all that great stuff. i just want a normal, not TOO conceited person i can confide in about random life stresses, living nyc, the usual & etc. no one over 25 please, hope to chat xoxox.

• Location: nyc
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

So, apparently even my fag hag cheats on me!!! This has her written ALL over it. The things you find out when you type in "fag" on the search engine of Craigslist just hoping to find a full-fledged total top who refers to his bottoms as "fags". Instead you find this. Bitch.

I saw Blondie walking out of a deli with a six pack

I’m a rock star? Oh you didn’t know that? Don’t you think I look like a rock star? Don’t you think I walk like a rock star, smoke like a rock star, party like a rock star, fuck like a rock star? Oh yeah, I’m a rock star and I want to get pissed with you in the East Village. Come with me or I’m going to bash my electric guitar over your head and then pass out. Oh yes, I’m a rock star indeed…

The East Village is by far the dirtiest, craziest, sleaziest, and most fun of all the gayborhoods in the great city of New York. There’s something about walking down St. Marks and seeing those hot strung out sixties throwbacks that makes me want to chug a bottle of Jack, get something pierced, and then go find a sex club so I can show everyone what I just had pierced, have crazy sex in a sling, and then pass out.

The East Village makes me want to be British. The East Village makes me want to take a pool cue, break it over my knee, grab that hot homeless looking boy standing with his hands in his pocket (He’s actually a freshman at NYU) and say, “Lets get the fuck out of this fucking city you sweet bitch.” And I don’t even swear.

Okay so’s if you wanna be a rock star too, come with me on this magic carpet ride I call life…

The best thing about the East village is the people watching. The boys in the East Village claim an anything goes style that makes each bar hotter than the next.

I like to start my night at Nowhere Bar on 14th Street. Not only does the two-for-one make NowWhere one of the cheapest places drink, it also brings a hot crowd. A great mix of the oh-so-experimental college boys and uptown working stiffs who are both looking to find someone to rub out the tensions of last week.
My favorite place to chill in Nowhere Bar is this little corner sofa area across from the pool table. It’s a perfect place to sit, see and be scene. Also the low sofas makes it really easy to get an out of site hand-job, so’s I’d look before I sat down if I were you, especially if it’s later in the evening.



Nowhere Bar
322 East 14th Street



After happy hour, you have a myriad of choices when hanging in the E.V.

Remember, the East Village is teaming with college boys. And where there are beautiful financially strapped twinks, there are also great drinking deals. For a cool and consistent good time I love to swing by Phoenix on Wednesdays for their dollar draft night. Starting at 10:00pm this is one of the biggest nights at the bar. By 10:30pm the place is usually balls to the wall full of hot eighties porn doubles. The crowd is always cute and friendly and the music is second to none; important if you’re a rock star like me.



The Phoenix
447 E 13th Street


If you’re itching for a pool game, or to act out a scene from The Accused hit up the Boiler Room. This bar is a trashy good time. It reminds me of my days in the Midwest; underage, drunk, and horny. And you can look ohhh so hot pressed up against the pinball machine in the corner. Much like the Hanger in the West Village, there’s something wonderfully sleazy about the Boiler Room. What can I say; the place perks me (by me, I mean my wang) up every time. This is probably my favorite place in the city for a drunken make out. Swing on by I may just might shove my tongue down your throat…And then pass out. …


The Boiler Room
86 E 4th Street


When you’re ready to get super nasty make your way down to Boys Room.
This on again off again club has never failed to make my jaw drop. From sweaty go go boys to live acts that will make your jaw go down and your dick go up, Boy’s Room is the primary spot when it comes to a dirty night out.

Boys Room
211 Avenue A

And where oh where after all of this could we possibly end our night? The Cock of course! Just to let you know how quickly this city changes, I knew the Cock when it used to be the Hole…How’s that for fucking with those tourist heads. The cock was, is, and always will be the best, funkiest, darkest, and most sexually charged bar in the East Village. It’s a great place to people watch while someone is grabbing your crotch. Whatever it may be, if ya want to do it, you can do it at the cock. See ya there rock star!

The Cock
29 2nd Avenue

So now we’ve ended out night, but who will we be going home with. In the East village it’s anyone’s guess, but you can guess it will be with someone.

Chance of getting laid: 99.9%
Who you’re going home with: NYU Twink, hot musician, suckable vampire, leather top, or all of em’ combined.

Attack of The Oversexed Fag Hag

by Diego

Gay tip of the week: do not get gangbanged with your fag hag. Seriously, kids, don't do it. They will get more addicted to it than you will. And you girls' relationship will never be the same. It's kind of like sucking off your uncle when you're 10. Thanksgiving dinner is always a bit more nerve-wrecking ever after.

Anyway, it all started when I introduced Craigslist personals to my main fag hag, who after that night I don't think has slept, really. She is up at any given hour posting and reposting after her shit gets flagged. And after she is done with one guy she is already planning the next post. Actually, as she is getting fucked by one guy she's already wishing he leaves so that she can get another guy -- or several of them -- to come bang her out of her miserable St. Mark's Place studio-living existence. If that all sounds familiar, I understand. She really is a fag trapped in a fag hag's body. But a real unhealthy fag at that.


So in the beginning of her addiction we started having straight guys over to fuck us both at the same time. I was taking classes at NYU, she was studying for the bar exam, we didn't have the time to devote to each other. So we figured at least if we got gangfucked together we would stick together. But by the 5th or 6th gangbang I got sick of the whole thing. It just seemed very unlikely that I'd find a boyfriend from a gangbang in which everyone was just plugging my ass so they would be able to get some of her pussy. So I told her I couldn't do it anymore.

She about cried. "But I can't have sex without my fag!". What? Are you psycho? "I'm serious, I can't think of sex unless it's with you". I told her that was pretty unhealthy and that she should see a therapist. To which she said "But YOU're my therapist!". To which I said "No, I'm not, I'm your fag, not your husband!". To which she said "You're my GAY husband". To which I said "What-the-fuck".

So it's been a few weeks and she still says she can't bring herself to get fucked without the presence of her fag. She recently passed out at Grand Central and was taken to St. Vincent's Hospital by ambulance. They called me up and said she'd written my name for emergency contact and under "relation to patient" she wrote in "fag". They labeled her "mental" and I didn't disagree. This bitch needs some meds. And I need some time off. No hags for at least a month. But then I'm afraid she will take her life. So, kids, don't start something you can't continue. Especially if they involve women. We are gay for a fucking reason.


For more Diego blogs, click here.

Go West Young Man

For my first few posts, I thought It would be the good and decent thing to do to delve into the underbelly of the four gayest neighborhoods (Has anyone used the term gayborhood before?) of the city. If you’ve had a chance to spend some time New York, you’ll know I’m referring to The West Village, The East Village, Chelsea, and lately Hell’s Kitchen. I have made it my duty, to hurl myself into every hole-in-the-wall, get icky and sticky at every club, and find just how sordid and different boys from the hoods can be. We’ve got it all here! Every fetish, perversion, build, and body part that you can think of has found a home somewhere in one of these four different gay niches…

We’re starting at the beginning.

Picture it. Judy Garland is dead. A one Ms. Sing Hallelujah Come On Get Happy has swallowed her last gin and codeine mixer and the gay fella’s in the West Village are mourning one of the few women that that actually gave them an erection. Judy Judy Judy…What are we gonna do without you girl? Just as the trolley dings for the fiftieth time, the doors of the gay bar The Stone Wall is forced open, and the scantily clad police chief with all of his strong arms bust through. It’s another raid.

But this time the queens of Christopher Street have had enough and they ain’t gonna take it anymore.

“Not today!” One screams “

All of the sudden the sky turns black. All of Gay New York flies into the streets. The Lollypop League appears to your right, Liza with a Z slides down the sidewalk sporting her black leotard , and a plethora of uppers and downers fall from the sky. The gay civil rights movement is in full swing.

Actually this never happened, but it makes a great story. Here's the real skinny.

The West Village is where the gay rights movement began!

In 1969 after a raid at Stone Wall Inn, the gays took to the streets in protest of their inequality. It was a dramatic scene indeed. Cops getting crazy with their nightsticks, trannies chucking beer bottles in rebellion…The riots went on for three nights, eventually turning into a more civilized protest land marking the gay rights movement…History lesson over, now I’ll tell ya where you can get shitfaced and laid.

Honestly, when you’re cruising the Village I think you should always start at Stonewall Inn. Yep it’s still there. Stop off a little after 4:00pm, have a couple of beers and give thanks to the pioneers who had the balls, tits or both to step up to the man so you can now walk hand in hand with the trick of your choice on Christopher Street any time of day.

Stonewall Inn
53 Christopher Street

After you’ve tossed a couple back at Stonewall, ya GOTTA check out the Hanger. This may be the oddest gay bar I’ve ever been too. It has this dive-bar vibe that personally kinda gets me all horned up. You’ll read on line that this is not the place to meet hot guys but I beg to differ. Though this is not a spot for high fashion (nor does it want to be) I have felt up three different absofuckinglutly hot hot guys at the Hanger. This place just does something to me…

The Hanger
115 Christopher Street

So now you’re buzzed, (I hope) and ya need some food. Before you hit a hotdog cart off the street, why don’t you consolidate your time and continue to drink while eating a fabulous homo burger topped with with special homo secret sauce...

At Julius’ (Arguably the oldest gay bar in the city) they usually have the grill going so’s the adorable studs can soak up the booze with a bun and keep the night going. While at Julius, ask one of the patrons about the place. They’ll be happy to give you a play by play of the celebrity cruising that has occurred over the years. (These are the worst/best gossips I’ve ever met…

Julius
159 West 10th Street

Alright fella’s it’s piano bar time. Oh Yes. The Duplex, Marie’s Crisis and Roses Turn are all in a quaint little triangle right off of Christopher Street. Get out your sheet music and get ready to see some off the wall shit. I’m talking Jersey girls screaming Billy Joel lyrics while almost weeping on their bar stools

The talented staff at these places will take your breath away when they hit those high notes and shake their, well whatever they choose to shake on a given night.

The shit-faced Broadway boys bellied up to the bar trying desperately to remember lyrics to songs that they have just performed in an audition that same afternoon is another site entirely.
Oh yeah, and if you stand close enough to the Piano at Marie’s Crisis you might luck out with some of your own ebony or ivory to tickle after the set.

The Duplex
61 Christopher Street

Rose’s Turn
55 Grove Street

Marie’s Crisis
59 Grove Street

As we wind up our night there are a couple of options in the West Village. If the vibe is low key with a twist of cute trashy fun I recommend that you stop off an avenue over and hit Pieces.

This place is great. The bartenders are easy going and cute, there’s a pool table, and the off the Avenue entrance makes it the perfect spot to find some sinister fun. Maybe if you're lucky you'll hook up with a serial killer.

Pieces
8 Christopher Street

Now, if you were planning on cutting loose on the dance Flo (not a typo…It’s how I say floor) There is no better place in the West Village than The Monster. The bar upstairs reminds me of a sort of indoor Tiki Bar. There’s plenty of space, it’s well lit, and there are windows on all sides for classic and tragic late night West Village street ogling. The dance floor downstairs is dark, loud, and kinda stinky in that sexy eighties porn sorta way.
I promise you three things if you end your night at the Monster.

1.) Someone will grab your ass and or crotch

2.) You will see a lesbian couple break up and make up again with in a half hour time span.
3.) Someone will call you Papi.

The Monster
80 Grove Street

That about raps up my tour of the West Village. At the end of each of my posts I’ll let you know a couple of things:

Who you’re most likely to hook up with: Hot daddies, Sexy chorus boys, or maybe a Papi of your own.

Chances of getting laid: 90%. If you’re too caught up in the history of the West Village or too drunk ya might just opt to collapse by yourself. Though this is not likely.

CRAIGSLIST Posting of The Week

Top seeks young Wet & Messy Food/Gunge boy!- 28

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Reply to: pers-438358726@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-02, 6:47PM EDT


Seeking young guy who wants to get messy with whipped cream, syrup, chocolate, pies and other stuff from the frig! I want to get you slimey and sticky from head to toe, jack off, get kinky etc!

Looking for younger guy 18 to 30, slim or muscular build. I host.

Reply with your pic.

Popping my Bloggin Cherry...

What a lucky boy am I! Boy Oh boy won't my mama be proud. Me, that goofy kid from the Midwest has been asked by the good people at Big Gay Apple to bear my ummmm soul to the five or so guys who actually go to this site...I've done it daddy! I'm on top. (This time)

From now on, tucked away between the Military cum shots and those wacky brothers wackin it, you'll find me, Sammy, sharing the escapades that have happened to me in this hot crazy nasty New York...It truly is one big gay apple, and I'm taking a juicy bite, all in search of that long thick worm near the core. And fuck it fellas I'm doing it all for you!

So's since this is kind of like our first date, I thought it would be fun to play a little game. Imagine if you will, that we are meeting for the first time after months of one hand typing on the internet hookup site of your choice. You walk into Barracuda, scan the bar and pray to God, that I'm the muscle stud with the giant package sucking down the beer at the bar and not the dude face down in his own grenadine tinted drool. So here are the pics. If you guess correctly we may just finish this date with the proper hand-job that you deserve...I am a gentleman after all!

Get to Pickin....

Is this me???

Could this be me??? (Please Lord!!!)

Oh...Here's me. Stoned!

Did you guess right? Good for you...unzip that fly!

Yeppers that's me. But don't let those boyish looks fool you. There's a lot about this sleazy city that I can learn ya...Behind those innocent blue eyes is the mind of that eighty year old guy at the gym who stares at you in the locker room while he plays with his wiener-Diddle Diddle Diddle...

"Tell me more," you must bethinking right now..."For God Sakes Tell Me More!!!"

While in the city I've made it my business to have the strangest and craziest experiences possible. I've lived, worked, and played anywhere I could. The experiences I've had along the way have been an absolute blast (In one way or another)

Some highlights thus far...

Getting a BJ in the bathroom at the Cock- I'm pretty sure this has happened more than once.
Having a guy pass out mid-tongue kiss

Getting a BJ in the bathroom at XL
Taking my pants off at Opaline
Getting a BJ in the bathroom at the gym
Doing it with a priest
Getting a BJ by a hobo in Hoboken. (Just kiddin! I would NEVER write about Jersey)

In between these oh so memorable occasions I've met some really great people (like face to face) Slurped some phenomenal cocktails, and saw some sites that would make you wanna slap your mother.

Now mind you, I'm just getting started. Five years in New York went by like a week and I'm not quite ready to reclaim my innocence. So come on back to my little blog, and I'll fill ya in on where I eat, where I play, and who I lay along the way... (Rhyming is fun!)