Author: wwducat

About: Writer, Technology guy, Photographer, Possibly EX-Software QA Engineer, Worker Bee. Interests: SCUBA, Working out, Friends, New Views, New Vistas, Photography
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I love my God Son

I wasn’t planning on blogging today… well not entirely true. I did blog today it’s just that I wasn’t pleased with what I’d written and thought I’d take a breather.

Then I had an encounter with my Godson.

My Godson is just on the cusp of manhood. He’s above the age of being responsible for himself and being able to kill the enemies of our nation, but below the drinking age. (I’ve never been able to figure that one out.)

My Godson picked me, it wasn’t like I held his squalling, squirming, ass at his christening or anything. He simply announced one day about a year or two ago that he considered me his Godfather. I couldn’t back away from that kind of honor, so I owned it.

As the relationship has developed and deepened I’ve come to realize that I really love him very dearly as if he was my own child.

The first time he asked my advice about something. I actually got misty eyed.

I’ve also figured out that when he asks me questions he’s not necessarily taking my word as law, gospel or doing anything except testing and building his own thoughts and opinions based on the answers and opinions of several different people.

He’s a smart cookie. And I’m very proud of him, and our relationship.

Recently, he took me back to a subject that I hadn’t really thought about for a while.

I found myself saying to him;

“Manhood isn’t about sex, any idiot can put his dick in someone. Any moron can make a baby. Manhood is about accepting responsibility for your actions. It’s about doing the RIGHT thing even if it’s not the EASY thing. It’s about taking your lumps when you fuck up. It’s about honor, respect and duty. Men don’t demand respect, men earn respect.”

Then I was misty eyed again.

I explained that some of those words were from a very close friend of mine. Even though that friend is dead, his voice lives on through me.

As I sat to write this, I realized that in fact part of that statement is from my Father,  part is from John, and part is from me.

My Father and John were two “Men”.

I carry no pictures in my wallet. But I do carry their dog tags.

It’s my way of remembering these two men who left indelible marks on my life.

I’m hoping that I can leave as positive an impression on my Godson.

I hope that some day he’s describing manhood to his Son or Sons, adding his Fathers view and his own personal view, and that he gets misty eyed when he remembers he got some of his beliefs from me.

Right now, he’s at that age where he Knows the right thing. He just needs an occasional nudge to remind him that he Knows.

I’m very proud to sometimes be the one that gets to nudge him.

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I am a major prick — Again!

The Other Half comes home last night.

It’s very late. It was after midnight in fact.

The OH was all spun up over some musical conference thing they’d been involved with over the past week.

Mind you I don’t know shit about ancient music, exotic instruments, or ethnic music beyond a bit of Afro-Celt Sound System and perhaps some experimental albums I’ve heard.

What I was doing was watching an interview featuring Charlize Theron that was very interesting. I had in fact stayed up very late to watch this interview. I was also blogging at the same time.

Of course the OH had no idea about this having been gone all day. Or that I was irritated over the ispq silliness.

Or that the satellite box had 10 minutes before the interview show started, changed channels to some Top Model reality rerun and then refused all commands from the remote or front panel. (Had to pull the plug 3 times and the smart card once to get the stupid thing working properly)

I missed the first few minutes of the show but had happily settled in to watch what remained and was trying to follow the twitter feed live too.

My multitasking was at it’s limit when the OH blustered in and started expounding how wonderful the concert with <static> was and how beautiful the <static> was and what wonderful time they had in their jam session playing the <static> and <static><static><static><static><static><static> more <static>

In fairness to me, I did point out that I had no idea what we were talking about several times. I don’t have the lexicon to speak about music at that level and since I had no context I was clueless.

The OH wasn’t listening and wasn’t paying attention.  I realized I wasn’t going to be able to keep up with what I was doing and at the same time be a courteous listener.

So I closed the lid on my laptop and gave the OH my full attention.

What I FAILED to do was slide the mask over my features that disguised my annoyance.

Of course the laptop closing also closed the conversation. Now I’ve hurt the OHs feelings.

I felt terrible, and tired, and just gave up then went to bed in the spare room.

No redemption I was a prick.

I guess I’m better at reading body language. My employment is technical and complicated, on the rare occasion that I discuss my work, if I see someone glazing over I stop and try to move the conversation back to common ground.

The OH has never developed that observation or conversational ability.

But I should be kinder, gentler and mindful that the joy in ones work is important and sharing it with someone you care about is part of having a good relationship.

I’ll do better…

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Video Chat Etiquette… OR When did we become such touchy feely pussies?

I had an hour or so tonight. I’m a little pent up and figured “what the hell I’ll go rub one out.”

I’m just about to sign off the ‘net to go sign onto my personal pleasure time when an Old friend pops on one of the chat programs and says hi.

I start the video feed and since I’m sans shirt he makes some crack like you naked?? I pan the camera down and Why, yes… yes I am naked as the day I was born.

He smiles and his clothes disappear like the Enterprise Transporter got them.

We start doing what boys do. And we’re having a great time talking dirty and being nasty.

Then he has someone at his door. It’s an old friend of his and my friend has to go. Annoying yes… but shit happens and I was going to go play by myself anyway.

Then I think wait a minute I’m kinda wanting to be an exhibitionist so I sign onto ispq and almost immediately I’m getting quick messages.

I answer the dumbfuck wimpy “hi” messages.

I even answer the messages that have NO text in them.

I’m prowling, I want to play, I want to show, I’m not really up for “hi…”

Let me make this clear

IF A DUDE ANSWERS YOUR MESSAGE, COCK IN HAND HE’S NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR FEELINGS!

Don’t tell him you’re not ready,

Don’t pepper him with endless ONE line messages.

Just shut the FUCK up, grab your cock, and answer the video chat request. OR NOT.

And if it’s NOT then have the good graces to not keep sending chat messages.

If a guy asks you into a videochat say yes, say no but you really should understand he wants to video because HES GOT HIS HANDS FULL.

I was asked the following tonight.

“Hi” [ 5 times] — Uh can’t we be a little more literate?  How about “Hello,  I liked your profile are you here to chat or are you wanting to just get to stroking?”

“hi..you bi? curious” — Really? DOES IT FUCKING MATTER? I answered your message with cock in hand who cares if I’m bi, curious, straight, or gay. Cock in hand trumps stupid questions.

“you hairy chested? ” — Uhmmm you have a picture of me from tits to balls cock in hand. You really need to ask this?

“how big is cock?” — Does it matter? you’re not going to be deep throating it, or taking it up your ass over a video link.

“you´re hot, but I´m not horny enough for a cam fun” — this you say AFTER you’e joined and left a live videochat? FUCK YOU!

“do you have skype chat?” — the answer is YES what’s YOUR address?

“you look like my fuckbuddy… nice body…” — Thanks, stroke your dick with me and stop chatting!

“when you cum last” — Really? AGAIN… DOES IT FUCKING MATTER? I’m obviously wanting to cum TODAY…. NOW!

“Hi how are you?” — again, I’m fine and obviously looking to rub one out answered with cock in hand.

“what you up to?” — Ummmm stroking my cock see picture above!

“just signed on and looking around” — fine are you going to join me OR NOT?

“uncut?” — I guess I could see this one. There are things you can ask to see on an uncut cock that you can’t on a cut one.

<blank> Picture — whatever.

<blank> shirtless picture — Ok you’ve got my interest

“Show face” — Ok you lost me with that You’ll see my face and everything else if you let me get on with the videochat

When I’m allowed to stroke my dick and not being forced to answer stupid questions I actually put on a pretty good show. AND that show is FREE.

MEN if you’re going to jerk off … DO IT enjoy it and let everyone else enjoy themselves too. Stop acting like a bunch of huggy touchy feely spineless doormats.

What happened to us? I remember it being “normal” to haul my cock out of my pants IN a BAR and be stroked & sucked until I couldn’t take anymore touching.

Here’s The Single message  I sent to a guy later in the night when I logged back into ispq to just flat out block those other morons.

His opening message was a picture of him tits to balls and he said “Hello you up for some play?”

Hola dude. you missed me by about an hour. I was raring to go and wanted to stroke with a guy.
After 5 guys that kept chatting when I wanted to stroke cock not type.
I logged off and did my thing alone.
I wont do that to you. Friend me and next time I’m available lets rub one out together.
I logged back on to block one of these guys cause he was just annoying as hell
Would have loved to videoed with you though.

After he got my message. This man even had the courtesy to say “thanks man” he went on to find someone who was up for it. That’s STYLE and I’ll look for him specifically the next time I’m in a mood.

I have often thought about setting up an Xtube account. Maybe this is why that service is so popular. 

At least then I could charge for my exhibitionism.

When folks at paying by them minute they tend to be a lot less annoyingly verbose.

Everybody needs multiple income streams don’t they?

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Well it looks like…

The car is fixed (Fingers Crossed)

My working out is paying off

Things aren’t as difficult to pick up and move. Bicycles, weights for patio umbrellas, tables (moved for cleaning).

But the best evidence is from my masseur.

Ya know he sees peoples bodies all day every day. He commented that I was bulking up since the last time he saw me (about 1 month ago). It was really nice of him to notice and comment on it.

Hes one of three masseurs in the LA area that has SERIOUS upper body strength.  I like him because like the other two he doesn’t fuck around with that stupid draping and just gets down to business.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen other folks junk or anything. Truth to tell I prefer my masseur to be naked right along with me. I hate the feel of fabric moving on my skin while I’m being massaged. It’s annoying and drags me back from where ever I’ve escaped to when I’m not screaming like a little girl.

And believe me… I scream like a little girl… A LOT!

By nature I’m pretty tense. Add to that some of the stuff that’s been going on in my life over the past 3 months and a workout every other day… well The last time Mark said I was like concrete.

Not so much now… just heading off for a workout…  I’m sure I’ll be good and tense the next time I see one of the guys.

I’m fortunate that the masseurs I’ve found are the real deal.

It’s hit and miss out there. Some masseurs are only about the happy ending. They’ll lightly rub my back, then vigorously rub my cock. Don’t get me wrong, happy endings are great but I’m not paying for a massage to get the happy ending.

Ya know, my hands work just fine! If I come to you for a massage, I want a fucking massage and you better not think otherwise.

Off the massage table… well we’re two consenting adults… Ahem

When I go to my usual guys, by the time they’re done with me…  Believe me! My Junk, a happy ending, even a hard on is the FURTHEST thing from my mind.

It’s pretty fucking hard to be perceived as “Macho” when five minutes before you were screaming like a school girl and begging for the dude to lighten up.

I have wondered on more than one occasion, if my masseurs are secretly into some kind of BDSM.

If they are they must really get their jollies with me! But then again what does it say about me… that I keep going back?

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Whoo Hooo My vehicle is ready

Off to pick the beast up. All I can hope is that it is in fact repaired.

Unfortunately, I won’t know until I pick it up and drive it. One of the problems I may not see until quite a way down the road.

It will be good to have my car back. Even though the loaner is very nice and several model years newer than my car. There’s always the comfort of familiarity, I’ve put enough miles on my car that my ass indents are permanently embedded in the drivers seat.

I really have to find a new job that doesn’t have me driving like a maniac all over hells half acre.