“What Kind of Guy…”
(a random pagemonkey rant)

I had a long and steamy debate with a buddy last week, Gentle Reader, and I’m pretty sure I won - but I’m completely sure you’ll get a kick out of the topic of the debate, since it was guys.

My pal Arlen and I were chewing the fat. He had just pryed the top off a bottle of Glenlivet, and I was doing my best to deplete the US supply of cheap vodka and frozen orange juice, and we started talking about boys.

Arlen has a few years on me, and he’s gotten to the point in life where he prefers sweet young cuddly things.

So I emailed him a pic of Zander while we were chatting. His reply was “perfect!” and he put me on hold for about 4 minutes, after falsely claiming to an incoming call on call-waiting. (I know Arlen well enough to know he doesn’t have call waiting, and besides, there wasn’t that little void that signals an incoming call-waiting call…)

When our conversation resumed, we started seriously talking about the qualities we each look for in a guy who has the potential of being more than a shake-hands man date.

Arlen and I agree on a few things. 18 to 24 is best. Decent hygiene is a good thing - although I sometimes joke about not being above “running him through the car wash on the way home.” We agree on the need for a handsome face, or at least a set of features in which the non-handsome elements add up to what I’ll call “character,” which results in a guy having and interesting face even tho he’s just a short dance away from “ugly.”

But at that point, Arlen and I start to follow different paths. I like guys with an attitude. I like lean, strong builds, guys with lots of definition in the arms and legs. I like big dicks. I like long hair if it’s decently kept - meaning an absence of bird’s nests. And I like natural, full bushes that I can bury my nose in, or start yanking out if a safety word doesn’t work.

(Chad’s image is courtesy of Badpuppy.)

I don’t like worrying about “breaking” a guy when I play with him. I’m not into S&M (anymore), but, after all, sex is a sport. The extremely physical relationships I’ve had were also very enjoyable.

(Another shot of Chad in the most perfect position - Grrrr!)

Then, after Arlen’s fresh bottle of Glenlivet was showing some signs of abuse and I had mixed my 2nd pitcher of icy OJ, we got into a big long fiasco about top versus bottom, and what we each considered ourselves to be.

Arlen considers himself a top, but most of the time the boys he hooks up with end up fucking him and then making a hasty escape.

“I’m a bad closer,” is how he speaks to it. “I get fucked, and then I say something stupid, and then my Robin Hood rides away into the forest.”

(Marek’s image is courtesy of Badpuppy.)

The reason Arlen has early dropouts is that he isn’t taking the time to get them into this position first.

 

I could be classed as a bottom, because I will let “the right guy” fuck me. But I think fucking the guy first is absolutely crucial to keeping said guy - especially a straight but curious guy - around for the second show.

I’ve learned that this concept only works with guys I’m not going to get disinterested in after I bust my nut - so I pick guys who have some sort of “hook” that will keep me interested in them. A good story, a face with character, an epic dick, whatever it is that will keep me in heat for a few nuts.

And that’s where the real honey is, Gentle Reader. Hooking up with a dude who keeps your interest - and your johnson - up the whole time you’re around him.

~ pagemonkey