Who is Deetz Mac Innes?

Desmond "Deetz" Mac Innes - I'm a proud Jewish Welshman with Druidic abilities living just outside of Cardiff with my husband, Angus Reese. This blog is a diary covering my thoughts on politics, sex, Judaism, random celebrity gossip, and stuff that happens in my relationship. It is DEFINITELY NSFW and you need to be 18+ just to understand it. Also, my biographer is looking for support so she can retire from the 9-5 and join Angus and me on our adventures. Invest here: Patreon

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Old Dick and the Sea-THE FULL STORY

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Friday, March 29, 2019

A new story from Angus's Diary

Str8 Boy's Curiosity

March 27th
Diary, you are a gift from my sister-in-law, Ciara.  I’ve never kept a diary however I am told that all the Earls do so.  I apologize for starting so late.  A lot is going on.
My name is Angus Reese.  I am Welsh, the 12th Earl of Glamorgan, a proud house, loyal subjects to the Crown since the late 1600s.  I am about to turn 30 which, along with my charm and good looks, as well, of course, as my money makes me one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe.  But, I’m about to marry a childhood friend.  And that childhood friend is male.
But, . . . when we reconnected, after our father’s deaths, I found spending time with him refreshing.  Business, at the level I play the game, is brutal – not the best atmosphere to nurture any sort of intimacy.  But with him, I could be myself – indulge in my silly, rather embarrassing eccentricities (there’s this addiction to fresh pretzels and obsession with exercise, for starters) and he didn’t blink, just smiled at me fondly.  And he listened, actually listened to my stupid complaints about a recently hired accountant and irritating hiccups in some 8-figure euro deal.  He was different too – not that scared boy, four years younger than me with a beast for a father.  I still want to protect him but in a different way.  I don’t know how I landed here.  It’s not like I’d been fucking blokes all along.  And I still like girls (as does he, by the way).  And the sex was weird, good but weird at first. 
He looks like Bruce Lee’s younger, angry brother – in other words, his countenance redefines “resting bitch face”.  While I was finishing Eton and he was back in Cardiff, I heard rumours that he was sexually assaulted by the junior rabbi of his congregation.  He calls the time afterwards ‘the wandering years’, much of which he says he doesn’t remember.  Because of it, he doesn’t drink now but likes smoking weed with me.  Therapy helped eventually too.  He’s still highly intense, like Socrates on steroids, and brutally honest, like your mum after a few.  But he smiles some now and even laughs now and then.  I’d love him even if he never smiled but I absolutely love it when I can make him laugh . . . or moan.
As they always say, ‘it started off innocently enough’.  If I am completely honest – I was just a bit curious.  I wondered if it was any different, snogging a man over a woman.  He said that’s sexist and heteronormative – whatever that means.  I think I met him halfway, at least a quarter way.  At that first kiss, I was doing all the receiving.  His lips were surprisingly full.  They stoked tiny sparks against my mouth, like a Roman candle at the village carnival.   I felt welcomed, invited in as if something magical was happening and I was at the centre of it.  When I kissed him again, a few hours later, I was a full participant.  It was like having a conversation with someone’s soul.  His cloak of invulnerability tossed aside, finding himself emotionally naked, he tried to push me off but I stood my ground.  Maybe I was standing up for our relationship (although I later abandon us twice).  He made me feel genuinely needed for something more than my title or my money.  And I’m one of those blokes who want, no I need to be needed – it’s just woven into my genetic material.  So, does that mean I’ve been wasting my time all these years with all these Sally’s I’ve fucked, and I was gay all along?
His tongue in my mouth got my dick’s attention but I tried to keep calm until well-after we made it to his bedroom.  We were at his sister’s cottage on my family’s estate.  The huge bay window off a winding creek let moonlight and bright stars bath the room in a soft bluish light.  Surround sound let Miles Davis and Mozart lent an air of sophistication to this passion play.  And weed gave me the courage to get in a bed naked, hard as a steel rod, with a man.   We kneeled in front of one another on the queen size bed, barely able to stop grinning and our eyes glued to our white-knuckle hands clinching at our knees.  I gave up and gave in – let out a FUCK before leaning forward.  His lips waited for me – he was thinking twice about what we were about to do, he later told me.   But I was going to feel those sparks again.  As I got close, his lips parted his tongue came forward against his teeth.  When our mouths touched and he brushed his tongue against mine, I learned the extent to which he wanted me.
When he took his lips away from mine, I shivered.  We got under the covers.  He encouraged me to take another hit off the vape pipe.  He was grooming me, prepping my body for his next onslaught.  He began kissing my cheek, pausing to smell my beard’s sandalwood conditioner (he later told me that the scent turns him on – I’ll never buy anything else) as he nudged his way to my neck and shoulder.  “Dyn hyfryd, a wnewch chi fy ngadael i mi os gwelwch yn dda? Dyn hyfryd, a wnewch chi adael i mi gyffwrdd รข'ch calon? (Handsome man, will you let me please you?  Will you let me touch your heart?)” he murmured against the hungry goosebumps on my shoulder.  He wrapped his left leg around mine, his dick buried into my butt cheek.  The tension in his leg led me to believe he was trying to contain himself. 
I could have kissed all night but my dick was jealous and kept bothering my brain with questions like, can you imagine those lips on my head?  I wasn’t sure of the protocol; how do you ask a bloke to suck you off?  Luckily, this dude has some sort of psychic powers and a Druidic brand on his back to match that looked remarkably like a tree of life from the garden.  It’s complicated.  Let’s just say he read my mind.  And my cock was right.  He managed my big boy like a thoracic massage therapist – as if Linda Loveless had a much younger brother!  I’m an amateur linguist but that man’s mouth was speaking a language I’d never heard before.  I felt so powerful, so masculine but I think he later said that was pejorative as well.
Then he put his finger in my ass.  He was rather matter-of-fact about it.  Frankly, I have no idea how he got the digit so wet.  It didn’t hurt for too long and his tongue’s rhythmic circles about my head felt like warm chocolate over ice cream.  At first, he just held the finger there, let my walls get accustomed.  He said something about “showing how the ass is a different kinda cum.”   The idea was scary enticing.  So I relaxed my hole (Wasn’t it already relaxed, kinda?), as he instructed, and let him move that little finger around and around, in and out slightly, then deep with a slight vibration.  He was right; it was different . . . very, very different.
I lay there gobsmacked, with my eyes still stuck in the back of my head.  After my breathing settled, I was able to unglue one eyeball and saw him sitting up on his elbows looking at me eagerly just over my now semi-hard dick.  He sat up a bit higher to lick the sperm I squirted as a result of the ass stimulation.  When he was done, he smiled at his work then sat on his bum and looked at me like a dutiful servant.  It bothered me as if something was expected but I didn’t know what that duty was.  He misinterpreted my look and said that “You didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to” as if my look translated to some type of buyer’s regret.  But that was just it – I wanted more and didn’t know what that was or what it meant.  He was frozen in fear and longing while I stared back with a big question mark over my head - was there some gay roadmap I missed during the sex ed class at school?  I think those psychic powers corrected his original assumption because he suddenly smiled at me and said something about it being okay and “it’s late anyway; let’s just get some rest.”  But he did have an ask behind that.  He asked to lay his head on my chest “for just a little while”. 
   I didn’t hear that request the way others would have.  He didn’t know then, even with his psychic talents, that I had spent 5 years in my early 20s in training with a dominatrix, one of the best in the BDSM universe.  Unfortunately, once I was ready to branch out on my own, my thinking spoiled by the sexual bubble I came from, I found out very quickly that the same madness that plagues the vanilla world exists in spades inside the world of the sexually flexible.   I knew that I had been bored with the partners I’d been with however until the moment he bashfully asked me that I didn’t realize just how lonely I had been feeling.  Could he be the sub I’ve been looking for?  I wanted, no . . . needed to settle down but I wanted it to be with someone who shared my predilections and wanted to grow together in them.   I moved over from the centre of the bed to make room for him. 
He laid his head initially just below my chin and hesitated before nuzzling farther down on my chest, just above my left nipple.  That’s when he let out such a sigh dripping with contentment.  Initially, I had my hands atop of my head but his actions left me with another decision – should I put my arm around him?  That’s the complimentary response when a lover laid on you, isn’t it?  I’d done this many times before with women I’d slept with – it felt almost obligatory.  I didn’t mean anything by it then but this would be making a statement.  Likely noticing my reticence, he asked if I regretted what happened.  I said no and that was the truth.  But it was also true that I was drowning in the implications of what just happened.  And it was also true that I was so excited, sexually curious, full of wonder about the possibilities that the room for regret was shrinking by the moment.  I took a leap of faith and put my arm around him and said something about “let’s see what happens” – I’d decided to lean into this like a project in a business deal.  And I am known for taking advantage of opportunities that others were blind to.  It was how I turned millions to billions. 

And it so happens, this has been the best business decision I ever made.

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