While my poem “STFU When I F***.” is new, it is unfortunate how the events inspiring it are not at all new. So far from new that years ago, I wrote a “Sex Party Etiquette” article on my old blog titled, “Sex Party Etiquette: Who Hired The Commentator“. But as with all such articles and poems, it takes one incident too many that makes me need to vent about the occurrence. Well, in the case of “STFU When I F.”, it was TWO(2) incidents on 2 consecutive nights.

The 1st incident happened at the NYC gay cruising bar that I frequent on a Friday night. I was in the midst of fucking an Asian with the most amazing ass. He was bent over sucking on a guy making himself available to be fucked. As I always do when the guy seems to be inviting himself to be topped, I touched him to see how he would respond. knowing that if he looked back, check to see if he maintained his bent-over position or squatted to make his hole unavailable. And if he doesn’t look back, then I know he is not being picky. He just wants to be entered by anyone able.

In his case, he peeped back at me and stayed bent over. So I went in my pouch for my lube, and put some on my cock as well as on & in his hole. I started pounding away at him. His hole felt so amazing that I was sure he was going to milk my cock of cum for sure. Unfortunately, that did not happen. Why?

Because this guy who looks like a rejected relative from “Duck Dynasty” came staring in my face. Not saying a word, but he was extremely close to my face and body. Exemplifying my X-Rayed Sex article on Thotyssey about how since the 2020 lockdown, some guys seem to impose themselves onto one’s play more than ever. I told him to get away from me, but the damage was already down. My hard-on was losing steam because I became annoyed beyond repair. Likely because this was not the 1st time this Duck Dynasty reject had imposed himself into a play session of mine.

I pulled out and the Asian asked me if I had came. I told him I didn’t. Never telling him about the Duck Dynasty reject being the reason as to why my man-milk wasn’t laying on the walls of his ass tunnel.

The 2nd incident happened at the same bar the very next night – a Saturday. I was walking through the crowd and this cute guy I noticed earlier was checking me out. I refused to initiate any contact because when I noticed him earlier, he was talking to a guy with whom he revealed his age—24. Keep in mind that I am at the time of writing this article, I am 53 going on 54. So I am definitely old enough to father this guy. Well, if he could see that, he didn’t care. Because he grazed me and when I turned around and saw him, he smiled at me. I turned back forward and he proceeded to make his touching me more obvious. The only reason I gave in to his advances with him being so young is because his glasses, tall frame and moderately hairy self made him look more mature.

The more he felt on me, the more I knew it was going to lead to us fucking. And I was ready to speed up the process. Hence why I dropped to my knees and began sucking his cock. Soon after, my oral skills did just as I hoped…He wanted to bend me over to fuck.

Well, they say never judge a book by its cover. And this guy was definitely an example of that. For I’m sure anyone watching did, like I, not expect his mild-mannered appearance to pound my ass like he did. With him pounding me so hard that the bench I was kneeling on squeaked like an old bed. And him grabbing my self-colored Sinnerwear harness so hard that even with its stretchiness, it pulled against my pecs.

So it was some good dick that I did not want to stop. But was not able to enjoy it fully. Because I kept hearing this voice of someone saying how hot our fucking was. But not talking to someone else. He was talking to us. More so my top since he was standing up while I was on my knees on a bench with my head leaning over the back of it. And while I never turned back to try seeing him, I could hear that he was right in my playmate’s ear. Add to my being an empath, I also picked up on this person’s negative energy via his social retardation.

Suddenly, my play mate stopped fucking me and I knew it was because of this idiot. The interrupting idiot turned out being a 40-something light-skinned Black male. This idiot focused more on my playmate talking about my playmate’s huge cock and how he was a top himself. During this guy’s yammering, my playmate did try keeping me near. However, when the interrupting idiot tried touching me, my disgust with him made him a walking heap of sewage to me. So I yanked away from him and walked away. Leaving my playmate behind.

Going back to the idiot mentioning he was also a top, I tried to figure out if his motor-mouth was some weird means of cock-blocking. Or some other manifestation of jealousy. Whatever the case, if it was to cock-block, it didn’t work. Because my playmate and I did meet up later.

I walked past him on the floor thinking we were done. Soon after, he came up behind me and hugged me. I turned around and he immediately started feeling me up. I felt him get hard and asked if he was trying to fuck me some more. He said he was. As the lights were coming on in the basement where we were, we went upstairs.

Upstairs he sat on a bench and I rode him reverse cowboy. We switched up between me riding and him thrusting. Whichever we did, I know I looked like I was on a bucking Bronco at a rodeo. The only reason we stopped fucking was because we knew the lights were soon to come on upstairs as well. Thereby solidifying the end of the night. Otherwise, I would have been more than happy to accommodate his desire to keep fucking me.

While I still get hard thinking back on those 2 nights of fucking, the idiots of each night also weighed on my mind. Including how I have witnessed and experienced firsthand soooo many such socially inept creatures before. Hence how the poem “STFU When I F***.” came to be. A more socially acceptable title since what it really means is said in the poem… “Shut The Fuck Up When I Fuck”.