Devon Hunter

Okay, so women do Kegels to keep their hoohaws tight after giving birth… they gotta keep the menzes interested… and now you rampantly receptive gay boiz/boys/men/guys/dudes/bros can see the same benefits of tightening your ninny stamp, even after shoving fists, traffic cones, and other sizable fetish objects inside your bums.

This is what I do to keep up appearance downstairs (though I have to say I’m too shy to try any of the more exotic toys and techniques during playtime)… Too many trips up and down into the cellar will eventually knock the door right off the hinges. You have to make sure you maintain your entryway properly. And it never hurts to have a cute little button of a doorbell right at the center of the portal.

At any random time, but particularly after intercourse, you will need to rapidly squeeze your punani. We will be doing 100 repetitions in a short time. Follow this regimen of repetitions at first, but experiment with various patterns and rhythms to keep it interesting (e.g. music, songs, Morse code, etc.). If I have my Morse card and enough time to remember it, I like to learn to do the squeeze-rhythms required to press a man’s own name into the shaft of his penis.

Anyway, here are Devon’s Basic 100 Gay Kegels:

1 – 90 tiny, shallow repetitions as fast as you can flutter them without interruption or rest: ENDURANCE, FAST TWITCH, LIGHT TEXTURE

91 – 99 firmer presses that also allow for wider opening between squeezes, but not squeezing shut or clamping down. Think of these as a middle note in the chord, neither the top nor the bottom. These should be held longer and longer as you go (e.g. 91 = hold for 1 second, 92 = hold for 2 seconds, 93 = hold for 3 seconds, etc): ENDURANCE, RESILIENCE, FIRM TEXTURE

100 is a single repetition with 10 parts. At the end of 99 you have held the tone for 9 seconds. When you relax and your o-ring expands, you then clamp down a moment later as hard as you can, squeezing harder and harder, without releasing, for each second for a count of 10. Around 5 you should feel it up into your lower bowels, and with each accumulated crushing squeeze after that you should feel the need to almost coil your torso into a ball. Keep breathing. Pulling your anus shut shouldn’t necessarily force you to stop breathing, but it may feel like it could. Resist that. Breathe. ENDURANCE, GRIPPING, MILKING TEXTURE.

When you are done, allow for light breathing through the nostrils and fluttering in the o-ring. Listen to some Mozart, drink a short glass of sparkling wine, and enjoy a bite of marzipan almond. Eh voila: My technique for keeping your tender button shiny and polished, even if it feels like it may be getting dented from time to time.

Okay, funny moment yesterday…

I was bored in Atlanta and surfing, so I decided to see who all was cruising on ManHunt. Anyway, this hot, 40-something muscle dude start chatting me up. I was definitely feelin’ it. Excellent strong, natural body. Thickness everywhere: Hefty and meaty, but still toned and lean. Just a touch of silver in the hair. Pretty eyes. I was like, “Let’s do this.”

So, an-y-way! (Yes, you have to go through the fabulous gay process of breaking that word down into three syllables sometimes.) After all the frolicking had been taken care of, what had happened wuz…

“Your pictures are amazing. One of the reasons I wanted to meet you was to see if you were real.”

“Real? What do you mean?”

“Well the photos are obviously professional, and normally that means the person you’re chatting with has stolen the pics or that he’s a RentBoy.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah. But it’s definitely you, and you’re definitely real.”

“Mhm. I’m definitely real.”

“Okay, see you around.”

“Buh-bye.” 

OMG!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I got my ass called OUT! LOL He never bothered asking me if I actually WAS a RentBoy, so I never brought it up. But how funny? HAHAHAHAHA

Quick question: Would I have ceased to be “real” if I had admitted to being a RentBoy? By not admitting the truth he took me for “real,” so how is it possible that honesty would have made less “real” than dishonesty by omission? What does it mean, do you think, to be “real” in this instance?

Wow, so now I’m writing a blog entry at 5 o’clock in the morning… HA! What a trend, right?

So, anyway… the weather here in God’s country is generally bipolar. And today was no exception. After intermittent rain all day (one particularly heavy shower even had thunder), it got warm enough for me to be comfortable leaving the house in a tight black tee and tight jeans. And no jacket. Remember that…

Four o’clock comes rolling around, and we’re all heading out of the club finally. The door opens and we’re all blasted in the face with some cold arctic breath. You’ve never heard 5 homos shriek in a perfect C Major Augmented chord before, I’d be willing to bet (yes, I sang the high E… and what?).

I felt like I was freezing very quickly from the door to my car. I sat down, closed the door, cranked the car, turned on the defroster, and got blasted by more cold air. The whole time I’m thinking to myself (well, yelling out loud at myself), “Why didn’t you just bring the damn jacket! No, you had to be sexy rolling up into the parking lot! Now look at you! That booty looks like Eskimo Pie now, doesn’t it?!”

I crash at my friend David’s house in Atlanta. He’s the door whore at Swinging Richards. Be nice to him. He’s fabulous. Anyway, we’re running from our cars to his apartment, and he says, “You’re running like Cookie Monster!”

“I’m cold!”

“Be sexy!”

“I feel like a fish stick!”

I don’t know why this was so funny or why I feel compelled to share it. I suppose I should find some moral for the story… Hmmmm… Uh… Ah! Don’t trust that Spring has truly arrived until you’ve gone a whole ten days in a row without wondering if you should take your jacket with you. Sleep tight!

This is my new favorite picture of me. BWAHAHAHAHA I don’t know what the photographer intends to call it, but I have entitled it “Raggedy Anne and Raggedy Andy Attend the Protest Rally: Shortly Before Their Incarceration (A study in human defiance).”

I think the photographer really captured the essence of these people, their stories… their lives. In this gritty portryal of life and struggle, we feel the plebians’ resistance in the face of… um. My concentration span has lapsed.

Anyway, I hope this makes you smile as much as it did me.

Okay, I thought I’d be ambitious and get up at 6:00 a.m., like a normal person. Um. What the fuck is this?! You people do this bullshit on purpose every day??? I think my head is going to cave in! This whole a.m. thing isn’t working for me. I mean, I’d heard of 6 a.m., but it had never happened to me before… This is some kind of a crime against humanitarianism or something. This is the kind of crap they do to torture people in Eastern Europe, right? Dear gods, how am I going to be able to go to school (if I’m accepted into the Physical Therapy Assistant program)?

I’m drawing the line at 10 a.m… I’m going back to bed, since I can’t remember what I was going to blog about… I think I’m going to vomit.