Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Hitting the Road: Unhooking the BRA

Today is Tuesday, June 15th, which means two things: 1) I am nursing a throbbingly severe post-Flag Day hangover; and 2) I am about to embark on my BRA tour. This tour will pry me out of my comfort zone like a recalcitrant conch from its shell and foist me onto the world at large like a conch who just published a book. Please note that, while I intend to continue regular blogular updates of this blog, the grueling touring schedule mercilessly imposed on me by my ruthless publisher, Chronicle, (coupled with other factors such as time zone changes, Internet connectivity or lack thereof at the various campgrounds where I will be lodging, and of course travel-induced constipation) may mean that these posts are brief and/or appear at irregular times. Nevertheless, at the very least I shall endeavor to at least file brief daily dispatches from the road until I return home next week. In the meantime, my first stop will be Mellow Johnny's in Austin tomorrow, and I hope to see you at the 10:30am ride--or, if you actually have a job, at the signing/pageant/soirée later that evening. (This being Texas, I will be wearing my SPD-compatible cowboy boots with spurs of crabon fribé.)

Of course, going on a BRA tour means I've got to look my best, so I treated myself to a "day of beauty" yesterday consisting of a manicure, pedicure, facial, haircut, facial haircut, and of course a thorough "sideburn" waxing. (Further to the comments on yesterday's post, other words for "sideburns" include "thighbrows," "koala bear's ears," and "pacoon.") As I made my way about town, I noticed an officer of the law who was actually reading the newspaper while driving:


The picture is poor because: 1) I am a poor photographer; and 2) I didn't want to get too close lest the newspaper-perusing policeman feel compelled to Patrick Pogan me. However, I can tell you that the newspaper was the New York Post, and thanks to the miracle of "computers" I was able to enhance and annotate the image:


Never mind that he should be on the lookout for crime (or at the very least on the lookout for things not to run over with his car). On top of that, he can't even be bothered to use a cellphone to distract himself like everyone else; instead, he's using a newspaper--in 2010. I shouldn't judge him too harshly, though, since he did manage to stop before entering the intersection completely:

The NYPD: Courtesy, Professionalism, Respect, and Assiduously Staying Abreast of Current Events While Out on Patrol. Hopefully he didn't hit anybody, because that would almost certainly make the Post--though I suppose that would provide his fellow officers with more entertaining reading.

The Fire Department, on the other hand, are considerably more diligent. In fact, a reader informs me that fire marshals recently arrested the proprietor of that "speakeasy" from the final episode of "Pedaling." The New York Times (which, due to its broadsheet format, is less conducive to perusing while driving) has the details:

Alas, it would appear that the designer Flaming Moe is no mo'.

Shortly after spotting the police officer with a nose for news, an indifference to crime, and a disdain for attentive driving, I encountered this Colnago, its fang-like bars poised to inject any would-be thieves with deadly venom:

There's something almost elegant about the manner in which the owner, with one simple twist of the handlebars, has completely obviated what is otherwise a high-performance bicycle. In this sense, the bars are sort of the apple in that famous Magritte painting:

"Ceci n'est pas une bicyclette."

It's easy to judge the bicycle's owner, and to assume that he does not understand what a race bike is supposed to be. However, I actually spotted him a little later on, and it turns out this is actually the optimal set-up for riding on the sidewalk:

Once again, I realize this is a poor photograph. However, keep in mind that: 1) I am a poor photographer; and 2) he was all the way across the street. Still, the photo does manage to convey the irony that he is riding a road racing bicycle on the sidewalk despite the absence of heavy (or really any) motor vehicular traffic. Anyway, my second attempt to capture him in action yielded a shot that is almost as poor:

This detail reveals the manner in which he places his hands upon the brake levers for maximum uprightness and minimal control:

Anyway, still reeling from this encounter, I entered a popular "yuppie"-themed grocery store in order to secure provisions for my wife and infant son, who my ruthless publisher Chronicle are forcing me to leave behind:

(BSNYC parenting tip: newborns love refried beans.)

"However will I transport these whimsically-labeled foodstuffs to my domicile?," I thought to myself worriedly as the cart continued to swell. ("However will I pay for all this crap?," I also thought to myself, though this second concern turned out to be moot, since I was able to secret it all in the billowy legs of my genie pants and remove it from the store at no cost to me.) Fortunately, I was "palping" my borrowed Surly Big Dummy, and was able to easily "portage" my gentrified grocieries with room to spare:

Rest assured that, in keeping with strict "bike culture" mandates regarding carrying crap by bicycle, I had a film crew following me and a two-hour feature about my shopping excursion is currently in production. I plan to screen it at the Bicycle Film Festival in 2012. The picture will be in standard format, but the smugness will be in high definition. ("Filmed in Smug-O-Vision™: So Self-Righteous You Can Smell It.")

On the way home, I passed this guy:

Though he would appear to have been felled by alcohol (too much Flag Day celebrating), it's also possible that he was overwhelmed by fumes from the nearby Gowanus Canal. Still, as I regarded his considerable stability, I marveled at the fact that the Big Dummy I was riding was also remarkably stable, despite being laden with refried beans and frozen prepared entrées. Speaking of bicycles and handling, I recently read this rave review on Cyclingnews of the new Gary Fisher dual-suspension 29er:

Among other things, it features "a rear triangle that faithfully follows the front:"

I was surprised to see this touted as a feature, since pretty much all traditional diamond-frame bicycles place the rear triangle behind the front one. Really, unless you're riding something like this, wandering rear triangles shouldn't be much of a concern:



Then again, the rear triangle of my Folgers Bike wandered quite a bit some months back during a routine test ride. Specifically, it wandered up in the air and then into a tree:


The green arrows represent my intended path, and the red ones show my rock-induced detour:


Here is a rider's-eye view of the rock:


Notice it bears a stencil which reads "Pericolo di Morte:"


It turns out it was a warning, and that it did not mean "Property of Mort" as I had assumed prior to my crash. (At first, I thought perhaps Mort had shot me for riding on his rock.) In any case, while the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company might claim that my rear triangle would have faithfully followed the front if I had been riding a Gary Fisher Superfly 100, the simple fact is that I suck.

And with this, I set out to surmount the giant rock that is my BRA tour--hopefully with better results.

88 comments:

Anonymous said...

first?

sherpa said...

podium?

yay early post.

Anonymous said...

runcible spoon hairy muffin

Anonymous said...

podium?

Anonymous said...

so close

Anonymous said...

Oily top ten!

mikeweb said...

Early bird gets stuck in the front grill of an SUV

Matthew said...

Top Ten!

Malcolm said...

Oh, man, I remember the ads for the swing bike, or, I thought I did; they came back to me a few weeks ago as I watched someone on a bike whose back wheel was tracking a good six inches to the right of the front, but parallel, and then I recalled the ads for something that must have been yanked from the market within a week. Thanks for finding proof.

Anonymous said...

Early post?!?!?!

It was 1.38 pm :)

mikeweb said...

Like RTMS, the blog will now also have "occasional irregularity".

Bad Lawyer said...

Huh?

Name said...

top 12! First senior citizen rider (maillot grey)!

Bad Lawyer said...

Speaking of the New York Post, check their website or my blawg for their report on the LI cell phone yakking, drunk driver who got 6 mos for kiling a cyclist...ooopseey. Stay safe.

Astroluc said...

wikkid early... but still smack in the middle of the teens... hrrummph.

E's Father said...

top 20 for my first comment.

recumbent conspiracy theorist said...

Smug-O-Vision

ant1 said...

ant1st!

Anonymous said...

top 20. geez, early today. what happened?

Anonymous said...

WOOG IEX2

huh. this was early.

Marc said...

top 25?

Astroluc said...

the Flaming Moe? no thank you... I rather have a Screaming Viking -- please bruise the cucumber, thanks!

Bad Lawyer said...

When I bought my Litespeed and Bianchi, many years ago I remember drooling over the Colnago frames at the LBS--with their unbelievable shapes and astounding paint jobs. These are the greatest of the golden age frames. Snob, you adroitly spell out how absurd it is to find one with its drops canted in the mountain goat attitude.

Anonymous said...

your blurry pics clearly show the drop bar back in a normal position...maybe you need more coffee pre-blogging? Oh well.

Anonymous said...

All sexy bike frames are fungible! Ride Naked!

Marc said...

I got spurs that gingle-gangle-gingle as I go riding merrily along...

Welcome back to Austin!

Who from this motley crew of addicts is going to show up tomorrow? Jefe, you going to make it in from the ranch?

g said...

what the...? Great, early post. Now what am I supposed to do with the rest of my day? Work?

sherpa said...

http://engrishfunny.com/2010/01/15/engrish-crabonated-drink/

crabon - not just for bikes anymore

Anusonymous said...

"I encountered this Colnago, it's fang-like bars poised"

For shame. It's 'its' Mr Fancy-Published-Author.

Thankfully it wasn't a there/their/they're situation. That would be the text equivalent of flipped Ergos.

Anonymous said...

It may be that cosmic rays have distorted the picture of the cop.

But if that cop is driving while reading the newspaper, then either you are in London, or the cop is somehow operating that vehicle from the passenger seat. Either of which is far more remarkable than just reading while driving.

Jefe said...

Marc, I only spend part of my time in Texas now. Most of the year, I'm here in Albany, New York - the Austin of the Adirondacks (without the culture, food, or mild Winters). I love those signs you have there reminding drivers that bikes may take the whole lane. Here the signs say: "Bikes, fogeddaboutit."

10,000 Aches said...

My grooming went awry and I got my sides burned...

hillbilly said...

have a great BRA, hope it is, uh, 'off the hook?'

gregoryyy said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
gregoryyy said...

So,there IS really a Folgers Bike.

Well I may not make it to the Epic Ride tomorrow but I am gonna try.Had a similar spill on my bike (just have one y'know)and i was sweating like a whore in Church yesterday too.

That photo of the bike is the best!

Johann S said...

Received your book in the post today! I'll bet it is the first one in Africa too. Looking forward to reading it, thanks!

Shu-Sin said...

snoblet must've woken you up and you had to stay awake... so you post at 6am... now to make the podium i have to sprint at breakfast, not lunch time.

Anonymous said...

Did I miss flag day??? Drats.

Nogocyclist said...

Snob I would love to make a sarcastic remark about your photographic abilities, but I fear I will make the opposite.

The blurriness of the photos of the police officer would easily have been corrected by the use of a polarizing filter.

The quality of the shots of the rider on the sidewalk were low simply due to the length of your lens.

Either of these photos would have been of professional quality with the right choice of camera for the shot. An DSLR with interchangeable lenses, and the proper filters would make these shots great. With an investment of $1,200 to $15,000 your photographs would be of the same quality as any professional photographer.

Then the only question would be, would you want to ride around on a bike and have to worry about protecting your expensive photographic equipment.

Even pros will use a point and shoot when it makes more sense.

frilly said...

Snob, thanks for commenting on the stability & handling of the Big Dummy. Was kinda curious how the 2 bags to 1 disequilibrium worked. Oh, and I highly recommend TJ's sweet potato fries.

Unhooking the BRA...sometimes ya just gotta let 'em hang.

Fletcher said...

Nice plug for Surly.

Anonymous said...

Not using reusable Trader Joe's shopping bags? Lost some smug points there.

Anonymous said...

You spelled carbon fiber wrong (crabon fibre).

Crotch Al said...

A moment at a popular search engine produced this:
Portlandize
You gotta keep up with Portland, OR BikeSnob.
I've seen the army boots, but not cowboy boots before.

Have a nice cold Big Red while you're in TX.

That's what she said...

Flag Day - when burning flags is socially acceptable.

sotxpedaler said...

Good Luck on the BRA Tour. I wish I could make the Austin Date but I am a slave to a desk this week. Too many deadlines. I purchased your book over the weekend and loved every minute of it, this was the first new book I purchase in a long time. I normally purchase used books so you should feel privileged you got into my wallet. Good work, keep it up!!!

Shaun said...

@Anon 10:32 AM

I disagree. The rider is clearly in the "Cobra Position" (hands resting on "fangs").

I'm very much looking forward to the Smug-O-Vision™ documentary of the "epic" grocery shopping excursion! I'll watch for it at the local "indy" theaters.

Is the BRA going to be supporting the perky and supple C-cups of the Twin Cities? Or are we going BRA-less in Minnesota?

eugenebicyclist said...

Good move not getting too close to the cop, I think.

grog said...

Snobbers, can you explain the gold colorway of your book's cover? The sticker on the tailpiece of my hardtail clashes with everything. Happy trails, cowboy.

Frilly, you hang in there. Out there.

Anonymous said...

Erm....FAT FREE re-fried beans are not re-fried beans. They're just mashed-up beans.

Pontius Pilate said...

HAIL CSZR

-P.P.

theshepherdsdog said...

enjoy the BRA's snob, wish I could make it!

Visegripmikey said...

Nothing like a rock that says death on it...

Anyway Snob, good luck on your tour. Let me know if you hate dudes that say their blog is updated in your comments - I kinda feel like the dude that sucks onto the back of someone else's group ride and just sits there interrupting the conversation.

Best,

http://visegripmikey.blogspot.com/

Blaiser said...

54th! Huzzah. Have fun on your BRA, Ace.

ant1 said...

snobby - any chance you'll be adding dates to the BRA tour? like an atlanta date? my birthday's the 13th, you know, that could be a good date.

also, you'll be away for your first father's day?

ant1 said...

and speaking of hitting the road, that was quite the crash in suisse today.

Anonymous said...

from a glance at your shopping basket and the lack of food in the meatway form one would guess you are a vegetarian? please say that isn't so. if so I would guess all the hipster bashing is some sick form of narcissistic self-abasement.

Nogocyclist said...

Anonymous @4:52

Your examination of the groceries was incomplete. There are two photos of food. Check out the front left bag on the bike. In the front of the bag, upside down there is a package that appears to say Chicken Enchiladas.

If you have followed this blog for very long you would know that Burritos have been mentioned quite often....

livingjetlag said...

Why is everyone so down on the smugness? I love my Cone of Smugness (TM) - it's aerodynamic, it muffles traffic noise, and keeps insects out of my face while I ride. I had to leave mine at home during Bike to Work Week, and it just sucked.

livingjetlag said...

Hey, where were the BSNYC parenting tips 11 years ago when I needed them? All you offspring finish your beans!

Nogocyclist said...

OK, I noticed my mistake. I acknowledge that burritos can be vegetarian, even if I have never had one that was myself.

I read about hipsters on Bike Snob, but here in the south I have yet seen one for myself. If being a hipster is so popular, why have I not seen one in person?

yofilly said...

Good luck with your BRA, Snobby. Remember that lace is pretty but itchy, especially in the Texas heat and humidity.

Fierce Panties said...

@nogo
Ain't you from Mississippi? Haley Babour is the embodiment of hip down there. Either that or he swallowed bodies of hipsters passing through the state.

a tad bit late said...

A belated happy bloggiversary to you, Snobby. Thanks for the many years of good fucking writing! Hope your BRA gets off to a good start.

Nogocyclist said...

Fierce Panties:

It must be the second one, I could never imagine Haley Barbour as being "hip!"

The only person from around here that someone might have heard that was considered "hip" would be the late Elvis Presley. He was hip, but even he was not a hipster.

Rangers 1994 said...

HAIL BEEZER

R.N.

Anonymous said...

Yep, the Big Dummy sure is one stable biek. Here is a picture of my Big Dummy frame sitting in the garage before I built it up which really demonstrates the point.
http://lakeshoremontana.com/construction/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/lkpark5_07_09-007-375x500.jpg

ce

Fabian said...

AYHGCTRA

All You Hates Gimme Cones To Ride Around

Anonymous said...

All humor aside, the sight of that Colnago saddens me. The bars, the saddle height--all to use it as a sidewalk cruiser for a non-cycling hipster. When will people get over this shit?

innerlighter said...

Snob, good thing that you're getting out of town as I'm pretty sure that combining Shimano and Campy on a Colnago is one way to summon the Devil to Earth whereupon he will possess the body of Lennard Zinn and spew forth ungodly amounts of innane bike tech prattle and smugness until, with great pulling of cranks and gnashing of gears, all of cycledom will spontaneously burst into flames, after which he will descend back down to Hell (which, incidentally, is the corporate headquarters of The Great Trek Bicycle Making Company) and leave The Opinionated Cyclist to rule over his shattered dominion.

And speaking of shattered dominions, is there going to be a Snobby Ride before your SF BRA stop?

Anonymous said...

I didn't bat an eyelid at all when I saw that Colnago photo - nothing shocks any more ever since I was exposed to the Best Madone Ever.

socal brah said...

Too bad you're not coming to SoCal and having a BRA with us brahs, brah.

cyclegoddess said...

Queen of Mts Oz,ha!

cyclegoddess said...

Nogo,
be happy you dont see hipsters.Because then you might have to SMELL them too.

huxley said...

Hey BSNYC - bring your BRA to Washington, DC. There's a nice, earnest book store called Politics and Prose that would probably make a suitably smug venue (there's lots of Prius drivers here), our Mayor is a triathlete, and we have a serious infestation of "bike culture" in Our Nation's Fine Capital that could use some analytical dressing-down by a professional such as yourself.

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Anonymous said...

My weekend with Eric Malcoff




MrGman9999



Eric Malcoff and I were often mistaken for brothers in the looks
department. We were tall, slim and blond, and much sought
after by those who liked submissive cock-suckers in their
late teens. We also shared a craving for coal-black cock,
which our mentor Eric Malcoff, a professional photographer and
keen Tarzan fan, helped satisfy.

Eric Malcoff loved to photograph burly black men fucking young,
white wimps - he owned a photographic studio in Putney,
which specialized in challenging the morality of the day
(the early 2000s).

Eric Malcoff would organize weekend get-togethers at Paul's flat
in south London. These all-day and night sex-romps would
see Simon and me stripping off in front of five fully-
clothed men: Arnim, Leo and Lloyd - all West Indians from
the Windward Islands - plus Eric Malcoff and I. The three
black men would 'encourage' us to humiliate ourselves in
all kinds of different ways before we were allowed to
suck on their hard-standing cocks.

Paul was an eminent psychosurgeon, who enjoyed watching
the weak being dominated by the strong. He also had a
passion for holes. The good doctor would examine Simon
and me with all kinds of surgical probes - we would lie
face down, or face up, on the twin beds in his spare
bedroom and suffer these indignities on a regular basis.

Eric Malcoff enthusiasm for the by-ways of pornography turned
me into a voyeur of the first water. He would order me to
stand behind the camera and watch Simon and Gary, another
youngster with a craving for black cock, being fucked by
Arnim & Co. I also got to see Gary and other submissives
being examined, gang-banged and punished on dozens of
different occasions.

I can still recall, as if it was yesterday, my first
visit to Paul's flat. Gary was the first to greet Simon
and me when we arrived at noon. I was expecting to see a
room full of rich, old toffs; however, only Bryan and
Paul were sitting on the settee when we entered the
living room.

'I'm glad you two could make it,' said Eric Malcoff, as he stood
up to take our coats. 'The rest of the gang will be here
in an hour or two. I thought it best that you meet Paul
first.'

'Would you like a drink?' asked Paul. 'I can offer you a
fine selection of alcoholic beverages.'

'Keep going,' said Eric Malcoff, as he took our coats and made
it quite clear that he wanted us to hand over the rest of
our clothes. 'Our host is a doctor, so he's seen it all
before.'

'There's whisky, vodka, beer,' Paul continued.

The situation we found ourselves in was truly bizarre.
There was Paul playing the perfect host whilst Bryan was
demanded that we strip naked in front of him.

'I'll have a Screwdriver,' said Simon, as he unbuttoned
his shirt and took it off.'

'He's got lovely nipples,' said Paul to Bryan. 'I really
like seeing tiny nips on blond bum-boys.'

'I'll have a beer,' I said, trying to come to terms with
the surreal situation I was in.

Anonymous said...

part 2

Mrgman9999

The bag Gary fetched from the spare bedroom was full of
leather straps and ropes, and tiny padlocks. Paul said
the tie-up game was going to last for the rest of the
day.

Simon and I were tied up in dozens of different positions
on the living room floor. I was then tied to a three-
rung, aluminium stepladder, whilst Simon was tied to a
low-backed wooden chair. Bryan must have changed the film
in his camera three or four times that day.

* * *

Bryan's camera was on a tripod in the spare bedroom when
it captured images of Simon and me being examined by the
good doctor. I was lying face down on the bed by the
window, Simon was lying face up on the bed by the door.
We were tied down securely, so there was no chance of us
refusing the invasive examination.

Paul had the time of his life probing our holes with his
extensive collection of surgical implements. My arsehole
was stretched open by an anal speculum and examined with
a variety of ice-cold probes. Simon also felt the caress
of Paul's stainless steel probes as his mouth was forced
open by a Whitehead gag.

Paul's juju juice allowed us to shed all our inhibitions
and get down and dirty. It also allowed the good doctor
to take us to new levels of kinky debauchery, which we
so-o-o loved - Paul knew from the outset that he had a
couple of horny submissives on his hands. So he didn't
need to pull out too many stops to ensure that we became
his creatures of pleasure.

After the examination, Simon and I were introduced to
Arnim. He, like his two friends, was a coal-black stud.
All three men were in their late twenties, but Arnim was
Simon's favourite. He had a Don Juan beard and moustache

Anonymous said...

part 3

MrGman9999

(Leo and Lloyd were both clean-shaven) and a real cool
look about him. He was also more dominant than Leo and
Lloyd, which made him my favourite as well.

I was standing in the doorway between the dining room and
the living room when I first met Arnim - Paul had hired a
carpenter to remove the connecting doors and replace the
softwood frame with oak. He had also asked the carpenter
to install four metal eyes in the hardwood frame.

It was these unobtrusive eyes that were keeping me from
stepping forward and greeting Arnim properly - Paul had
secured my wrist- and ankle-straps to the eyes before his
guest had arrived. I was now standing spread-eagled,
naked and red-faced in front of a man I didn't know.

'X marks the spot,' said Arnim to Paul. 'The rarse looks
so weak and willing. Has he been fucked yet?'

'He's been prodded and probed a few times,' replied Paul.
'But no one's fucked him.'

'Sweet,' said Arnim, stepping forward and taking hold of
my flaccid cock. 'I like the ball-gag; is it new?'

'Yes. I bought three of them. They're far better than the
ones Gee sold me.'

'The rarse is getting real frisky. He must like having a
black man play with his white-boy dick.'

'Yes. He certainly looks grateful,' said Paul, as he
stepped forward to tweak my left nipple.

The two men groped my body for a good ten minutes. Arnim
used his tongue to lick my neck, shoulders and chest. He
then used his teeth to bite my earlobes as his powerful
hands pulled my cock in one direction and my ball-sac in
another.

Paul, who was concentrating on by arse, kept telling me
to enjoy the moment as he squeezed and slapped my arse-
cheeks.

'Leo and Lloyd are going to like this rude boy,' said
Arnim to Paul. 'They like fucking trim and tearful bum-
boys.'

I bit on my ball-gag as Arnim sucked heavily on my neck
and shoulders - the resulting love bites took almost a
week to fade.

A painful punch in the stomach brought the session to an
abrupt end. My cock was still rock hard, but clearly
neither man was going to wank me off.

I was still standing in the doorway, some twenty minutes
later, when Paul, who always remained fully-clothed on
such occasions, entered the living room with his naked
entourage (Simon and the three black men) in tow.

The gang-bang that followed was played out on the floor
in front of me. Simon seemed to be revelling in all the
attention he was receiving, even though it looked quite
rough. His skin looked so-o-o white against the three
black studs. And how I wished it was me down there with
Arnim, Leo and Lloyd.

Anonymous said...

My weekend with eric

Mrgman9999

Bryan's camera continued to click away in the background
as I watched Simon being humped by his new friends.

'Look and learn, Davy boy,' said Bryan, as he stepped
behind me and placed the camera on my right shoulder.
'Let's get a shot of how things look from your point of
view.'

I stood and sighed in frustration when Paul told me that
I would have to wait a few more hours to be fucked, and
that it would happen when Gary returned from running an
errand - he and I would be taken together by Arnim & Co.

* * *

Fortified by another glass of juju juice, I was happily
led down the hallway and into the spare bedroom by Leo,
who was pulling on my cock and using it as a leash.

When I entered the room, Arnim was lying flat out on the
bed with Gary knelling between his outstretched legs.

'Keep sucking, boy,' he said to Gary, as he winked at me.
'You have to get it nice and stiff for that bum-hole of
yours.'

I smiled and sat down on the other bed between Leo and
Lloyd. The two men looked really pleased with their new
cuddly toy.

Lloyd told me to lie back and turn onto my side. He then
took up a sixty-nine position in front of me and offered
me his hard-standing cock. As he did so, Leo spread my
arse-cheeks apart and pushed a Vaseline-covered finger
into my rectum. I felt the finger slip inside, but I
didn't let the sensation distract me from the task at
hand. I ease back Lloyd's foreskin and ran the tip of my
tongue over his large, bulbous knob. The juju juice
surging through my veins was making me feel really good.
My cock was rock hard and I didn't give a damn about
being the 'girl' in this threesome - I needed to have sex
and that was that.

Lloyd took hold of my cock and fed it into his mouth. I
shuddered with excitement as I opened my mouth and sucked
in several inches of coal-black cock. Leo slipped another
finger into my rectum and said something to Arnim in West
Indian patois. The Vaseline allowed his fingers to slip
in and out with ease - there was no pain involved, just
some mild discomfort.

I gagged several times as I tried to emulate my friend's
cock-sucking technique. He was a real expert: knowing
exactly how to keep a cock teetering on the brink of a
climax. I had no such skills, so I had to make do with
raw enthusiasm. Leo watched my efforts with interest. He
said I was a rude boy with a nice looking cock and an
arsehole that needed fucking. It was then that his two
fingers were removed and replaced by his hard-standing
cock.

Apart from the colour, Leo's cock was very similar to my
own: it was some seven inches long, uncut and quite
chunky. However, it felt a whole lot bigger than seven
inches when it entered my arsehole. I winced and tried to
pull away, but I was firmly sandwiched between the two
men. In desperation, I slapped Leo on the thigh as the
pain began to overwhelm me. This didn't seem to bother
him at all; he just carried on pinching my nipples,
biting my neck and fucking my arse.

'Be still, boy!' he ordered between love bites. 'Just
relax and go with the flow. A white boy like you should
be begging for more black cock, not less.'

The pain did ease off a bit when Leo's length made itself
at home. This allowed me to settle down again and start
enjoying myself, which in turn prompted the two men to
redouble their efforts and bring things to a memorable
climax. I was allowed to come first, and boy did I come!
My whole body began to convulse as Lloyd devoured every
drop of seed I could produce. In fact, he wouldn't let go
of my ball-sac until he had it all.

Anonymous said...

my weekend with Eric malcoff

MrGman9999

Leo was next to come. He gave out an almighty roar and
continued to pump away at my arse until my rectum was
awash with sperm. He then grabbed hold of my hair and
pulled my head back, forcing me to open my mouth and
release my friend's cock. This allowed Lloyd to take hold
of his erection and bring things to a spectacular close -
my face was completely covered in sperm by the time he
had shed his load.

Leo withdrew his cock, slapped me hard across both arse-
cheeks and said he and Lloyd were going to rub some face
cream [sperm] into my skin. I just smiled and let them
get on with it - the sex had completely drained me, so I
was well and truly out of it by the time they had
finished cleaning me up.

* * *

I was still lying on the bed in the nude when I woke up
an hour or so later. My arse and head were competing for
the 'Pain of the Year' award, and Arnim was standing over
me with a glass of water in one hand and two aspirin in
the other. Embarrassment swept over me as I downed the
pills and sipped the water.

Arnim sat down on the edge of the bed and said I should
lie back and relax. He then took hold of my cock and gave
it a gentle squeeze. I couldn't believe my luck; this was
just what I wanted him to do.

Some ten minutes later, with Arnim lying flat out on the
bed, Bryan, Lloyd and Gary entered the room.

'Look at the boy go,' said Bryan to Lloyd and Gary. 'He's
cock crazy.'

I was too engrossed in what I was doing to let Bryan's
remark put me off in any way; in fact, I kind of liked
the idea of him thinking that I was out of control - it
made me feel really wicked.

Gary helped Bryan set up his photographic equipment as I
continued to work on my friend's eight-inch cock.

With the camera and lights mounted on tripods, it only
took Lloyd a minute or two to get in on the action. He
knelt on the bed behind me, put his hand between my legs
and took hold of my erection. His vice-like grip was the
first indication that he was clearly out to dominate me.
He forced my hard-standing cock back, between my thighs,
and held it there while he covered my arse-cheeks with
painful love bites.

Meanwhile, Arnim grabbed hold of my head and forced it
down on his coal-black stem; holding it there until I
gagged. The camera captured every moment of my struggle
to deal with the cock in my mouth and the assault on my
arse.

A few minute later, Bryan told me to stop sucking cock
and lie face down on the bed, with my legs as far apart
as possible. The experience that followed was truly
awesome. I grit my teeth and winced as Arnim straddled my
lower back and helped Lloyd push a well-oiled dildo into
my rectum. My tearful protests prompted Bryan to call me
'a pathetic cry-baby'.

Bryan was clearly impressed with what his friends were
doing to me in front of the camera. He encouraged them to
go in deep and ream me out, which they did on several
occasions. However, these slow and painful attempts to
expand my inner sanctum with rubber were eventually
brought to a halt by Arnim, who decided to remove the
dildo and let Lloyd have a go with his cock.

The weight of Lloyd's body on top of mine was crushing.
'I'm gonna sweat you, boy,' he whispered in my ear. 'I'm
gonna fuck your white-boy arse and fill it up with seed.
And when I'm done, the man with the eight-inch chopper is
gonna ride your arse some more.'

Anonymous said...

and My monday morning with eric

MrGman9999

Encouraged by Bryan, Lloyd plunged his hard-standing cock
into my hole and fucked me like a man possessed. The
camera captured the whole thing on film, and towards the
end, Bryan turned to Gary and said, 'You're next, so get
ready to take it up the arse.'

Lloyd's climax was a very noisy and drawn-out affair for
the both of us; and so was Arnim's: his cock certainly
left a lasting impression on my burning hole. I really
had to struggle to accommodate his 'eight-inch chopper',
which made my eyes water the instant it was pushed into
my battered rectum. The two men took great pleasure in
making me squirm beneath their hot, virile bodies. I
remember lying on the bed with my arms and legs fully
outstretched as they took it in turn to hammer my 'white-
boy arse' into the mattress.

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