claym

I wish there was more of that in general going on.
I miss the days of meeting someone out, having a drink, chatting a bit before going home to fuck their brains out.
Probably why I prefer meeting providers for a massage on a first meet. The encounter is more low key/ fewer expectations and more conducive to a little conversation. Wham*bam*thank*you*Ma'am isn't always what I am looking for.

Well, that’s unfortunate. While I’m not currently a paid subscriber, I was for over 8 years, month-by-month, and never had any trouble with their billing or support.
If you look a few posts up @56harrisond has posted several topics above that relate to seeking arrangements and their latest name seeking.com. It’s a valid point that it takes more time. I had very good luck on there, at least I did after my first year or two when I started to realize how to better filter through the profiles and messages. I’m still in a relationship right now from someone I met there almost 5 years ago, we see each other and travel 4-6 times a year…it’s not a monthly allowance type arrangement.
Many will be quick to say seeking.com leads to expensive monthly arrangements, I’ve found that’s not necessarily true, and have met many quality guys there. 

now Just a follow-up/conclusion.  I received my new passport book today.  I thought the application photo was bad, well, the photo, as it appears in the new passport book, would prompt the villagers to make the sign of the Cross and shelter in place. 
                                                                                                         

My naturally rosy hue is captured by gov cameras as 3rd day after chemical peel. 

Who knew fluorescent lighting, zero angles, and a bored government employee could be so artistically damaging? My DL photo looks like I blinked, sneezed, and lost all hope at the same time.

All of the moderators have my phone number. I explained what was happening to everyone that pinged me. I did not have my offline list as this happened while I was traveling for my day job. (Yes a perfect storm of crap to happen at once!)

I recall similar issues when Daddy was here and the site would be down for a few days and then, miraculously it would reappear.  I am glad the magicians who work to keep this going know the right tricks to do so.  
Thanks for your hard work.  I will be sending a small donation of thanks and urge others to do so as well.  

I wish I could say that for myself!  The last few days have been interesting to say the least. 

Just wanted to say I’ve had several amazing 1.5 and 2 hour sessions w Bodypoet. He’s gorgeous, sensual, very responsive, the messages are great and he is very accommodating with the erotic elements - VERY. I will actually be booking a session with him and his husband soon, my first 4 hands with them. Looking forward to it.

Yes, it means 'separate and distinct'. So queer places are discrete almost by definition. Whether they are discreet is a separate question.

Wow. I have… no words.
Actually, just one: sorry.
Reading this felt like a horror movie. 
I’m the extreme opposite. I am legitimately OCD about hygiene. Think Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets. I’m so thoroughly scrubbed you wouldn’t find a fingerprint on me, including my own. Even my fingernails are manicured specifically so I don’t accidentally exfoliate someone’s anal canal while fingering them.

I’m among the minority of guys my (boomer) age who never found overtly cruising public spaces to be a turn-on or productive. 
This excludes, of course, Nordstrom South Coast Plaza when Ralph Lauren Polo dress shirts were marked down in 1983. 

I dress down for comfort on the table. and, to quote one poor restaurant review, “…however, the portion of potatoes was so grand, I had to lift them up to discover the average serving of meat they accompanied on the plate” 😎

Overall I'd say that I'm a downward dog because who likes lying on the remote control. 😁

I still live in the house I was born in back in the early 60s. The neighborhood has gone through its series of changes over the past seven decades, but a few things remained the same...until this week. 
At the top of my street (which runs off a main street, though not too busy) sits a gas station which opened up in the 1950s, just when my neighborhood was being built up. It started out as an Esso Station, then changed to Exxon (in the 70s), then Texaco, then a 'no name' brand. Most of the houses surrounding it were built around the same time, and the building boom ended around the early 1970s, as there were no more empty lots to build on. I remember going to this gas station with my mom or dad as a toddler. It was owned by an Italian man who immigrated here in the 1920s when he was a baby, and he opened this station when he married. It has remained a 'full service station' ever since (never changed to self-serve) with a one-bay garage for very small mechanical work. 
Around 1975, when I was starting middle school, this guy had his son - a recent high school graduate - join him at the gas station. So I was around 11, and this guy had to be 18. I remember driving up in the passenger seat, and seeing this gorgous young man pump our gas, open the hood and change the oil, and then stretch across our windshield and wash the windows - usually with his 'uniform' unbuttoned and wide open. I still remember his wavy brown hair on his head, his mustache and light facial hair, and the light hair on his chest. I realized I was gay from the first day he waited on us. (And he was so friendly and polite to my parents). 
As I got older and learned to drive, I would always offer to fill up the tank each Saturday, knowing that 'Kenny' was working. So I'm in my late teens, he's in his 20s, and now fully matured into a man - complete with a full chest of hair and dazzling smile. In the hot summer months, he always wore his shirt opened or no shirt at all - showing off his beautiful sculpted chest / arms. I lost count on how many times I sprung a boner staring at him stretched across the windshield washing the glass bare-chested. I remember to fill the tank up then, it cost $15 and I would give him a $20 bill and tell him to 'keep the change' (my mom and dad told me it was nice to tip, but that was too much! I didn't care - it was my money from my part time job!). Kenny would always wink and smile, and say 'Thanks buddy ! See you next Saturday'. 
As we got older, Kenny aged like fine wine into his 30s, 40s, 50s - kept the handsome face, the hairy chest, the muscled body. (He looked very much like the Playgirl model Rock Pamplin in his 1970s spread.)  The only difference was his wavy brown hair had a sprinkle of gray in it (including his chest) which made him all the more sexier to me. He'd make light conversation, but I was always too lost in his looks to respond - worried about the boner in my pants. My tongue would hang out whenever he stretched across the windshield and showed off his chest and muscled arms.  (In the meantime, about 25 years ago,  his dad passed unexpectedly, leaving him the business. That's when I stopped tipping him, when he became an owner.) 
I still go on a regular basis to get gas from him, especially in the summer. Now in my early 60s, I somehow found the courage to engage in conversation with him if he's talkative. The other day he broke my heart - said he's putting the business up for sale, as he's pushing 70 and is tired of pumping gas in the frigid cold winters. He plans on moving to Florida to be closer to his 'family' ( a sister and his nephews) in November.  This is the first time in 50 years that Kenny actually killed my boner.  And I didn't realize this gorgeous hunk never married, and never had kids. For the first time, I wondered the other day if he was possibly gay ?  Damn! I could've offered more than a five dollar tip over the years ! 
So it's the end of an era in my neighborhood. I'm going to miss Kenny, his gorgeous smile, his beautiful body even at 70 (he could pass for early 50s). If I had enough guts, I'd ask him to shave some chest hair and put it in an envelope for me - to have as a keepsake. But I don't have the guts. 

When I lived in Germany in the 70s, that was very much the norm - you had to ring a doorbell, they would open a little door so they could see whether you were police or not, and then let you in.  OTOH, there was an enormous gay bar in Berlin called the Big Eden. Then, there was a bar in Saarbruecken, called Chez Madame.  You rang the doorbell and this gracious lady, Madame, dressed in a floor length hostess gown, welcomed you in.  I was told by insiders that Madame was actually German but pretended to be French, which makes sense because it was so close to the French border.  She would only speak French though.  Though customers were a mix of French and Germans.

I wish more forum users exercised this level of discretion. We need to strike a balance between sharing helpful insights with each other and not disclosing so much that we place ourselves at increased risk. I worry that some of us have been lulled into a false sense of security. 
Given the current administration’s attacks on immigrants, I also worry about the potential convergence of anti-immigrant, anti-queer, and anti-sex surveillance. We need to be thoughtful about what we disclose, where, and with whom.
 
In my experience, fisting porn encourages rather than wards off the homophobes who wanna pathologize our spaces. Sigh….. I long for a time when our spaces belonged to us.

I opened Scruff while in Southern Israel about 1-2 miles from Egypt.  The app gave an immediate notification to be careful or close the app, due to be close to or inside a country that has laws against homosexual activity.  Definitely be careful when meeting up with someone.  
This screenshot is from January 2024.
I've been to Israel several times, and every time I'm there, I get messages from gay men in neighboring countries who are using a VPN.  Always interesting.  

If you're getting $10,000 a pop and not financially secure after 9 years of it, that's juat EXTREMELY poor money management.

If the chemistry is right I will definitely cuddle during and after sex.

People hire for all sorts of reasons but in my experience a very common reason is that they’re looking for intimacy. They can get sex, the physical act but getting intimacy as well as sex is something that’s much more elusive.
By intimacy I mean things like a build up, a seduction, sex as an exploration rather than as a destination. They don’t get that at home or from hookups. They can get it from an escort (a good one) or masseur who goes that far (basically a masseur/escort). Sure some guys just want to get railed quickly but if you do that and then offer them the slower more intimate approach they tell you they enjoyed the slower session more. I guess it’s the old adage: it’s the journey not the destination. 

You and I have very similar situations except, in my case, there is very little touch or physical affection at home.  If I am with an escort I know well and click with, I welcome the chance to spend time after sex, chatting while continuing to hold and touch one another.  If I’m with a new provider or one with whom I have no chemistry, I’m outta there fairly quickly.

I assume Oral means he likes to engage in conversation.

I’ve a few regular clients who like to finger me. It’s intriguing when I see a client and he starts to explore back there because usually they’re more interested in playing with my cock as I massage them. They’ll touch me and test if it’s ok so I add a bit of lube to my hole and next time he touches he can feel I’m lubed up so it’s a signal for him to go in properly. Clients love to hear me groan with pleasure as I massage them…kind of turning the tables.
I think @marylander1940is correct in saying it can hurt though if for example his nails aren’t short or especially if he just pushes in and out. It’s better to insert and leave it there, applying pressure on and off to the prostate. When withdrawing do it slowly. Just thrusting your finger or fingers in and out is definitely not good! 

"A" is before Sepulveda's enhancement procedure; "B" is current, "filler" has shifted and lumped; his sac is enhanced with saline filler.