Oh, cum all ye faithful
ADULT: An anniversary gift rekindles Barry Lowe’s fond memories of spunk.
Wally and I don’t usually celebrate things like anniversaries, Christmas, birthdays, UFO sightings, or ageing celebrities whose careers need a boost by coming out publicly. This year is different. We are, however, about to celebrate an important anniversary, so Wazza presented me with a gift: dozens of hot dicks blowing a load of ball juice on bodies, faces, asses. A real spermfest.
Alas, it wasn’t over my face or body. The dicks were real enough but they’d been photographed in various stages of ejaculating solo or over other people. The icing on the cake was the fantasy artwork of hot guys, impossibly bubble butted, dicks the size of California redwoods, spewing forth enough sperm to whitewash an average Greek island holiday home. I was in spunk heaven.
Wazza doesn’t share my fetish for gargling (safely) with sperm, nor did he, in pre-AIDS days, appreciate the small canisters of frozen jizz that clogged our freezer compartment in the fridge. The used condoms that came through the mail, many of which had leaked and soaked the envelope, were the last straw.
Cum fetish seems to be widespread among gay and straight men who like to see their partner’s face and/or body (or tits) covered in spooge, the stuff of life liberally lathering a partner or partners the ultimate triumph, power and domination. For the passive partner/s, it’s supposedly the ultimate submission and humiliation. Hmmm, what does that make a guy who twists himself into all sorts of gymnastic contortions to spatter his own face?
Never one for the blah blah blah of psychobabble, all I know is the feel of spunk hitting your face is akin to the splash of warm summer rain when you’re caught outside in a storm. Of course, warm summer rain doesn’t have the consistency of kindergarten potato glue. But that’s another story.
Wally’s gift, a copy of the new Bruno Gmünder picture book Cum, contains hundreds of colour pages with works from the likes of Tom Bianchi, Rex, Patrick Fillion, Justin Monroe, Jeff Palmer, Joe Oppedisano, plus many others. It brought back memories. I’d never managed to participate in as many gangbangs, group gatherings or bukkake bashes as I would have liked but then, if I had, perhaps I’d be dead.
I do remember my initiation into the wonderful world of willie wanks. I was in my early twenties by which time I knew where gay bits slotted into other gay or bi bits and fully intended spending the remainder of my life inserting tab A into slot B or C, or vice versa. I hadn’t as yet discovered the flavors of gay sexuality other than vanilla.
I was partial back then to rather butch men, ‘daddies’ we’d call them now, who were usually closeted, residing in the suburbs, sometimes married. Ben was one of such a bunch. We met infrequently, usually at a party when he’d take me aside and bugger me into the mattress in the party host’s bedroom. There was an edge of nastiness to him which appealed except when we went for a late-night burger at a joint frequented by the most terrifying bikies I’d ever seen.
Ben invited me to a ‘private’ party, promising it would be to my liking. I jumped at the opportunity little realising what a profound influence it would have on my life. I was young, blond, slim and pretty ‒ I was also the youngest at the party by about fifteen to twenty years. You guessed it: I was ‘it’ for the night. Not that any other than Ben screwed me, he was too jealous, but he did hold my head up so I could swallow the dicks and later take the loads of all the hot men attending the party right on my face. I didn’t know to close my eyes back then so they were red and bloodshot for days afterwards, a symbol of my inauguration into the ranks of spunk lovers.
Cum is a powerful aphrodisiac.
[Image] Cum by Bruno Gmünder