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Super Sweet 54


I predict that in 364 days I will be dating a senior citizen.

I will be a month from 40 at that time, so I guess that’s not so bad, right?

Yesterday was The Attorney’s 54th.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around that fact.  Because he is not what ever thought 54 is.  He’s active, athletic, and sharp. Plus, the older you get, the more you realize that “old” is a lot older than you imagined.

The official celebration of his birthday is tonight, to coincide with our usual Friday date night.

I made the pound cake1 last night and this evening, dinner will feature a pork tenderloin I do on the grill that I know he likes.

I like to try to come up with a gift that has something to do with his birth year2. Like for his 50th I gave him a 50th Anniversary edition of “To Kill A Mockingbird,” a favorite book of both of us that was published the same year he was born.

A couple of years before that I planted a JFK Rose in his yard because that was the year that Kennedy was elected and because they are supposed to bloom in late May.  Every year since, he has had big white fist sized roses bursting forth by his birthday.

This year was even more perfect, because he called me yesterday morning to tell me that the first one opened up.

Then the whole JFK / birthday connection got even cooler when I saw this on Twitter today:

The Attorney and JFK share a birthday.3

But, this year, I could not come up with a good 1960-related gift.  So I just decided to get The Attorney something I know he wants.

My support.

He has been talking since last fall about getting a motorcycle.  And I have been against it.

I have concerns, ironically, about his age.  I’m not concerned about him handling the bike or anything like that.  He is very physically capable.  But, I do think bikes are dangerous in general, and I worry about how well he will bounce back or recover at his age from an accident.

I know he really wants to pull the trigger on getting a new toy, but I worry that he is holding back because of me.  He hasn’t expressed that.  But, I have that feeling.

I don’t want to get in the way. Plus it’s not my decision to make.

If he wants a bike, he deserves a bike.

And my support.

So, to show it I decided I’d buy him his first helmet. It’s my way of saying “Happy Birthday. I love you, I support you. I want you safe.”

I really wanted to surprise him by having the helmet waiting at his place at the dinner table. But it’s such a personal choice, he really needs to pick it out.  Plus, I had no idea of size.

But, I do know he has been looking at Harley-Davidson bikes. So I researched the costs on their web site and purchased a gift card that should cover any helmet he wants.

I still want him to be able to have something to have in hand at dinner, so I picked up this shirt for him, too.

I’ll make it from Granny.

Hopefully the message will be heard.

  1. always been the traditional birthday cake in my family 

  2. 1960 

  3. And Bonus Points:  JFK and Granny were born the same year. 


Supporting Gravity


When you put yourself out on the web, pants on or off, you make essentially make yourself a target.

In every way.

Because of that, I generally let commenters on the blog have their say, unchallenged, whether I agree or not. As long as it doesn’t get offensive and interaction remains courteous.

No drama.

But, today I got a comment on the recent post about my imminent testicular droop that I actually can’t let go.

Besides aforementioned bad behavior (which, let me be clear, the commenter was not guilty of), there are two things I can’t abide on the blog: One, speaking poorly of my granny; and two, speaking poorly of The Attorney.

Say what you want about me. It’s my blog. Not my granny’s. Not The Attorney’s. Neither of them is here to defend themselves.

Because of that, I feel compelled to respond.

The comment in its entirety, from Victor:

it amazes me comments have focused on fucking Newton
and have missed the main point.If my man criticised me
on such minor etiquette pas comme il faut,I would be
angry.He has no right to be obsessive with you and
perhaps explains former tips like chocolate stains.I
cannot imagine you living together Sorry,just go on
as if nothing happened because you love him more
than he does.An Attorney need no be solemn

Victor, I am amazed (your word) that you missed the humor of an innocuous comment. I am the first to poke fun at myself, so I’m not bothered by others that do. Particularly when a) there is truth to the humor (Newton was the main point: my balls are dropping like it’s New Years’s Eve.) and b) when it comes from someone who loves me.

Which the Attorney does.1

If that’s not obvious from what I write about him (including the little digs) then I’m a pretty shitty writer.

Which I know I’m not.

The Attorney and I don’t shit rainbows and unicorns all the time.2  Each couple loves in different ways, and every couple loves in many ways. Laughter and poking harmless fun is one of our ways. And we do it the same intensity as all the other ways we love.3

To “move on as if nothing happened” is not only an impossibility for me. It would be foolish.

Because since I have known him, EVERYTHING has happened.

  1. Which I don’t doubt for a second. 

  2. Thank the lord! 

  3. And shit can get intense. :-)  


Mind Numbing (NSFW)



I have been sitting here trying to think of some clever comment involving thunder, stormy weather, or phrases like “rough and choppy” or “catch of the day.”

But all my mind comes up with is ” I would turn that shit out” and “where is the towel?”


Swing Low


“Careful you don’t get a rug burn.”

I was helping The Attorney clean out hall closet in the entry of his house.  I was sitting on the stairs, digging through a box when he pointed out that my nuts were on the carpet.

I was wearing baggy shorts and, since it was Saturday, naturally no underpants.  Besides, it was just me and The Attorney.  So it wasn’t like anybody was going to see anything they hadn’t before.

I’m used to my pecker taking a peek from time to time, but my balls were almost on their way down the next step, like a leathery waterfall.

When did this happen?

True, I have found myself sitting on my nuts more and more in the last couple of years.  Especially in hot weather.

But lately I roll out of bed like the bondage elves have worked me over with a ball stretcher in my sleep.

The Attorney says it comes with age.

And that ear hair is coming one day, too.

My balls used to be like a military hair cut or a perfect ass: high and tight.

There was a time I couldn’t comfortably wear a cock ring because my balls stayed so close to home.

The factories are still good-sized and producing.  It’s just now they’re out in the suburbs.

I wonder what aging is like for guys who had low hangers from the start.

I feel kind of sexy when my cock is banging around all loose.

But with my sac, it’s different.  I feel a little perverted.

I know that makes no sense, and is not the least bit rational. But it’s how I feel.

Maybe it’s just that I don’t find testicles that sexy in general.

Plus, do I really need something else swinging low down there?

Everything has a place.

Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to the point where my nickname has to change to Droopy Tony.

I’d rather have the ear hair.


Mommy and He


I sat with my mamma for about half an hour today.

It was a perfect evening.  Clear skies, beautifully blue.  Mild temperatures and no humidity.

The trees bursting with blossoms erased the natural gloom of cemeteries.

She died 24 years ago today.1

Twelve and a half-million (plus) minutes without her.

I didn’t really say a lot to her.

But, she’d probably not expect anything else.

I know that my painful shyness as a kid would often exasperate her.  Only because she wanted me to enjoy the company of other kids more.  To have the kind of popularity my brother basked in.

But, I preferred being around just her.

And after she was gone, I preferred just being alone.

I still do.  Mostly.

The Attorney is the main exception.

I’m definitely an introvert still, not gregarious by any stretch. But, because he is, being with him has brought about a comfort around others2 that I’d not had before.

It’s commonly said that a parent should never have to face out-living a child.

I think it’s just as rough for the child who loses a parent before adulthood.

Not only do you miss them, you miss the chance to show them who you are.

I would like for her to have had the chance to know me now.

I would like for her to have seen what The Attorney’s presence in my life has done for me.

I guess on some level she does see.

I only wish it could have been face-to-face.

For them to experience each other.

I had a dream several years ago where that happened.

Maybe it will once we’re all gone from here.

  1. May 1, 1990 

  2. particularly strangers 


Whatcha Call That Thang?


Someone made fun of me recently for referring to my penis as my “pecker.”

It never seemed silly or unusual to me.  I have called it that for years.

As long as I remember, really.

Maybe it’s a Southern thing.

I’m pretty sure it’s something I picked up from my Daddy.

But, it’s not the only word I use.

“Pecker” is just my everyday-walking-around word.

Sometimes if I am feeling horny and playful,1  I refer to it as “The Beast.”

And when I mean business, it’s “Cock.”

Blunt and to the point.

Those three are pretty much my go-to words, depending on the situation.

So, what do you call it?

  1. and confident. 


I Win


James and Peter.

Two adorable young men who have a little time and alcohol on their hands.

I first became aware of them on Twitter as @drunkgrindr.

They have created a series of funny and entertaining YouTube videos where they seem to pretty much get tipsy, explore dudes on social media, and share it with us.1

You can’t help but grin an giggle as they assess and discuss what/who they find.

A recent discussion assessed little ol’ me.

Thanks guys!2


  1. Check them out! 

  2. Makes me want to be better! 


Try To Contain Yourself



Have a fallout with your pink1 sword?

Try Red Sword.

They’re “meat resistant.”

Found at Kenneth In The 212.2

  1. or brown 

  2. Believe it or not, this is not a gag.  I saw others for sale on Ebay


Driving A Stick – NSFW



When I first saw this photo I was rendered speechless.

Besides obvious thick-thighed, meaty-assed  splendor that fills virtually every pixel of the image, my pecker filled with blood and my brain flooded with memories from my youth.

Memory upon memory of car sex.

Call me juvenile, but it’s still my favorite place to do it.

Maybe because the first time I messed with a guy, it was road head.

Sort of.

Actually we were parked.

But he started giving it attention while we were still on the road.

Perhaps that event imprinted something deep in my libido that just the thought car sex fills my jeans with a few inches of anticipation.

In fact, if you told me I could either have sex in a five-star Parisian hotel on 800 thread-count sheets or the bed of an old Ford truck parked behind an abandoned K-Mart, I’m likely to answer “Gimme the keys.”1

I’m all about any opportunity to drive a stick.

It’s been a few while since I rocked four tires.  The Attorney and I had an awkward session in the back of his SUV one night in the garage of his office building.  But, 6′-3″ and 6′-5″ don’t fold up that well in a closed up space.

I’d prefer under the stars in the open air of the bed of my truck.  But, he’s not as adventurous in that way as I am.

But, I’ve turned his thinking around on other things over the years.2

There’s still time.

And I intend to make the most of it.

Thanks to BosGuy for sharing the image.  He knows what I like.

  1. To the truck, of course. 

  2. He has done the same with me. 


Treasure Trail (NSFW)


It is popular belief that I never/have nevered bottomed.

But, one night The Attorney and I got a hotel room…


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