Charlie

"Mine is bigger than yours."

While unable to sleep the other night, I decided to try to predict the age I will live to by taking the age at which each of my parents died, plus the age at which each of my four grandparents died, and dividing by 6. The result made me a bit nervous: according to that formula, I will die within the coming month☹️. Then I tried the outliers formula, in which I split the ages between the one who lived longest and the one who died youngest. According to that formula, I am already dead😲. However, I then considered the fact that my own health background is most similar to that of my mother, who lived longer than the other five by a good many years, so I threw away the averaging formulas and used the comparison test instead.

No. That Chestnut Hill is in Boston

I couldn't tell you much about the ingredients, but a Moroccan tagine is a large pan in which food is cooked and served; most contain meat (lamb is a favorite) and a variety of vegetables and spices. Since all the meals I had were communal, we had tagines frequently, and I never was served one that I didn't enjoy.

Perhaps you saw a story in the papers several years ago about a problem on I-10 between LA and Phoenix that caused cars to be caught in a traffic jam for several hours in a desert area in eastern Riverside County. One guy in a Tesla ran out of power, and Tesla had to send someone to rescue him.

The only place I have been to in Morocco is Marrakech, about a dozen years ago.. We went because an old friend threw a milestone birthday party for himself, and invited friends and family from around the world to join him (he rented two riads in the medina for all his guests). Since it was a mixed group, there was no gay sexual hankypanky, so I can't speak to that scene, but the setting was as exotic as any I have ever experienced, right out of an old black-and-white movie from the 1930s. I would gladly go back, if only for the food.

Yeah, I've slept with a few guys who are named on Wikipedia, but I am not.

"Why are you giving that look to my guy?"

I assume that this is a driving trip, so I hope you are not planning to do the trip as non-stop between those places, or you are going to be too tired to do anything else. I would also vary the route somewhat west of St. Louis if it doesn't interfere with something important to you about Oklahoma City, and instead head through Kansas City, Denver and Las Vegas en route to Palm Springs. If you are interested in things like Presidential history in this election year, you can see the Lincoln memorabilia around Springfield, and the Truman and Eisenhower Libraries in Missouri and Kansas. If you must go to Albuquerque, the route south from Denver is more scenic, and I agree with Njguy2 that Santa Fe is worth the stop. Lucky is sort of joking, but Palm Springs really is hotter than hell in July and August, so most residents flee to the mountains or the coast, and BSR is right that it would be a shame to travel all the way from NY but skip the last hundred miles to the Pacific. What gay man would pass up LA and SF? Also, check out Oliver's postings about his drives here to Palm Springs from Columbus with Epigonos and jawjatek.

The "Map me" function has been disabled, which makes it seem likely that he is only visiting someone he knows in North Bergen. Having worked in North Bergen when I was young, I know it is not a gay hotspot.

I became sexually active fairly young (17), so most of the gay men with whom I had sex in the early years were older than I was, and most wanted to, or expected to, fuck me. They seemed to stereotype me as a "twink," since I was average height (5'10") and very slender, and I was attracted to taller men who were well built and hairy, so they often were taken aback when I resisted the classic script. As a result, when they did fuck me, I was usually less than enthusiastic about it, and rarely maintained an erection while being fucked. The first time that I discovered that getting fucked could actually be pleasurable occurred in my early 20s. I was a regular at a local gay bar in Philadelphia, and one of the bartenders was a favorite with many customers. I found him physically and personally very attractive, and I was told by other regulars that he had a big cock and loved to fuck, and he was good at it. One night he suggested at closing that he would like to accompany me to my apartment, and I said yes. Because I liked him and already knew what to expect, I was relaxed and prepared to make the best of the experience. When we tumbled into bed we were still partly dressed, and he quickly took me from behind. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear as he slowly fucked me while jerking me off, and to my own surprise I came explosively at the same time he did! It wasn't until he withdrew that I saw his cock, and was shocked at the size of it--how could I possibly have taken that?! The answer, of course, was that I was strongly attracted to him, was psychologically prepared, and he was an expert at what he did to make me enjoy the whole physical and emotional experience. Unfortunately, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but he did make me realize that it was possible.

I was surprised when an allergy test indicated that I was allergic to cinnamon--I have always liked cinnamon bread and have never been aware of any unpleasant reaction to it. I like onions, but I strongly dislike kissing someone with onion breath; I suspect it has something to do with an incident in my distant past rather than an allergic reaction to onions.

This thread made me try to think about how I reacted when I got fucked, but it's been so many years that I can hardly remember. However, I'm sure there was no regular pattern--it probably all depended on the entirety of the situation: who I was doing it with, why I was doing it, how he was doing it, etc. Sexual pleasure is more than just a mechanical process, even when one is only masturbating.

On a typical vacation trip here in the west, it is not unusual for me to drive 350-400 miles in a day, so range anxiety is definitely an issue for me, especially since I'm unlikely to know much about the charging stations where I am headed each day.

I have another memory from the same period as the one I mentioned before, but I don't know which one is the earlier. I went with my parents to my grandparents' house after Thanksgiving dinner. My grandmother warned me not to disturb my mother's step-father, who was resting in the library/den. Nevertheless, I quietly sneaked into the room, which was lit only by a fire in the fireplace. I saw a heavy old man sitting in a big wooden rocking chair. He was apparently dozing, because he didn't seem aware of my presence. I stood there quietly watching him for a couple of minutes, then slipped out of the room again. I told my mother that I had seen Grandpa John, but I didn't wake him. I know the exact date, because he died a week later. I was 2 yrs. 8 mos. old.

It rained all day Thursday, but it looks like the sun will rise today.

Recent articles in the LA Times about the difficulties finding public charging stations in CA with working plugs--a high percentage in some places are defective. Also articles about insufficient electricity from wind and solar power sources in many parts of the state and country, especially in the winter. The assumption that a mandated switch from gas-powered to electric vehicles is a no-brainer solution to global warming is being exposed as not so obvious after all.

It was a lovely day here yesterday. We walked in the park and then drove around in Las Palmas. Unfortunately, stormy weather is on the way for the next several days.

"Mister"? "Call Me Madam"

When I was very young, the back door of our house led onto a small open deck with two short flights of steps, one going down to the back yard and the other to the walkway next to the house. My father tore down the deck when I was still very young and built an enclosed back porch in its place. My first memory is of standing on that deck in bright winter sunshine, dressed in a a light blue woolen onesie, trying to make up my mind which steps to take (I don't remember whether I walked down either one.). When I told my mother about that memory, she was very surprised, because she said I couldn't have been more than 2 years old in that outfit at that time of year, and by the next winter the deck had been torn down.

Dec. 24, the last day he logged on here, was the day he left for Asia. He is now back, and will probably log on again when he has taken care of business.

South of the Border is correct that Lucky has been traveling in Asia, but he has also had other things on his mind, and has not been very interested in the discussions here lately. He will return when he is ready.

For anyone who doesn't want to pay for the house tour, it's good to know that you can visit the gardens for free.

Your story reminded me of one I've told here before. My best friend in high school was a paperboy, and when he was 12, he went to collect his payment from a customer; she wasn't home, but her 18 year old son was, and he asked my friend if he wanted to try sucking cock. He then pulled out one of the biggest cocks I have ever seen (that's another later story), and my friend took on the challenge. They ended up playing whenever Mom wasn't home for the next several years. Even after the guy married in his mid-20s, he and my friend continued to play whenever the wife was away, and I joined them a couple of times, by then, the guy had become more sexually versatile. I have often wondered what eventually happened to him after my friend and I were grown up and left town.

I am better off financially, simply because I have spent much less money in the last four years than I was accustomed to spend previously (travel, restaurants, entertainment, etc.). However, that probably would have happened anyway as my spouse and I became senescent.