hot action

Here we have the official hot action guide to giving Philip Clark a handjob.

[I typed that sentence, and then I just sat back and laughed. Fuck I love this website.]

I've received two handjobs in the past week, one very good and one not so good.

Actually it's been more like fifteen, if you count the times I've given myself a handjob. Straight guys, try not to be ashamed, but it's a fact that "every time you jerk off, you're giving some guy a handjob."

Anyway, a little while back, I noticed something about the way I masturbate. I would jerk off in a relaxed, leisurely fashion; and as I neared the moment of truth, at a certain point I would have an urge to suddenly grip myself a little bit tighter. This extra force would help to finish off the task with a bang and bring forth the gushing white mess of man-batter.

[What can you make with man-batter? Mancakes! Eh, sorry.]

That's fine when you're by yourself, but I think my dick started getting a little too used to this particular masturbation style. Sometimes when I'd be having sex there would come a point in the action when my cock would be subconsciously expecting that sudden tightening, that shift into a higher gear.

But a woman's pussy is different from my fist, so of course that change wouldn't happen. I would sort of gasp a bit and then just keep on fucking.

I didn't mind, because all it did was keep me on the edge a little longer. Often I would take it as a cue to change positions.

It took me a while to clue in as to exactly what was going on. Once I made the connection I realized that maybe it wasn't such a good thing. As a typical male, I like to think that I come whenever I want to, and I could see that my masturbation technique could wind up causing me problems someday.

So I resolved to change the way I go about taking care of myself. I made an effort to keep a constant pressure throughout, resisting the urge to squeeze tighter as the finale approached. It was slightly excruciating at first, yet very pleasurable. On the whole the new method turned out to be pretty good for my self-love life.

The upshot of the foregoing paragraphs is that I've learned to savour a soft touch on myself.

So I was hanging out one night with a sexy young thing I'd run into at the Marquee. It was her "time of the month" and that usually means lots of hand-play.

She had smallish breasts with hard nipples that I just loved swirling my tongue around. I slid my hand down her jeans and ran my fingers over top of her panties. She was bucking her hips and moaning and I could tell she was getting pretty excited.

She reached down and undid my belt buckle and opened up my pants to release my cock. I was hard as a cast bronze sculpture (that's for all you foxy art students reading this).

Then she grabbed my member and started yanking on it. The more turned on she got, the rougher she got, pulling it every which way. Holy shit. After a couple minutes, I had to stop touching her and just lay on my back and grit my teeth with the force of her manual assault.

A cock should be hard, it should be strong, was the thought going through my head. And yet... it's also a very sensitive organ. Very very sensitive. And a man shouldn't feel guilty about grabbing a woman's wrist and moving her hand away, if it feels like she's going to rip the damn thing right off.

I found this woman so sexy that I didn't want to say anything to make her feel like I was criticizing her as a lover. But I thought a little demonstration might be in order. So I flipped her over on her back and straddled her. With my knees I pinned her arms down so her hands wouldn't be able to cause any trouble (I do enjoy that sort of thing).

Slowly I moved my cock around on her hot little tits and up across her face (you know... just to make sure I had her attention). Then I made her watch as I started playing with myself.

The contrast in techniques was remarkable. My own touch as I stroked my cock was slow and downright delicate by comparison with hers.

My penis was hot, hard and slippery as I slid my fingertips up and down its length. I started to move my hips, rhythmically fucking my hand.

She seemed to be enjoying the show and I enjoyed showing off for her. I reached behind me with my other hand, ran my hand over her panties again, fingering her gently.

I could've done that all night. Pinning her down, making her watch. Teasing her.

I was growling, getting turned on. I couldn't stop watching her face. So pretty. Her lips, the way she turned her head back and forth. The sounds she was making...

After a while I brought the demonstration to its inevitable explosive finish. All over her.

I think the lesson was a fulfilling one for both of us. I may even let her touch my cock again...

Now on the other hand (pardon the expression)... if I'd had my video camera rolling in my bedroom last night, I could've marketed the tapes as a handjob how-to. It felt so good, I might have been getting a handjob from myself, or from God (assuming God is female, brunette, five-eleven and Montréal-beautiful).

How can I explain what went right about last night? Here are a few key points.

- A perfect, steady rhythm. A regular rhythm. Not stopping every ten seconds to go do something else.

- My erection wants to point in a certain direction--more upward than outward. Best results are obtained by stroking along this natural axis.

- She took the natural lubrication from the tip of my cock and rubbed it around and around and down the length of my shaft until my whole cock was slippery. Just like I do to myself. Amazing.

(I felt these long, low moans coming from deep inside my body. I couldn't help it. I reached down to cup her gorgeous ass. Reached my hand down and around to feel her. Slid one finger inside, then two.)

- "A little higher," I panted. I took her hand and moved it up from the base of my shaft so that she was stimulating me directly over the head of my cock. "Ohh, god..."

- She's got her hand around the tip, I have the tips of my fingers inside her... There's this mental fusion that takes place during a great handjob, when you're touching each other like this, and all of a sudden you are fucking. I don't know how else to explain it. It is intense and very powerful.

- It was all I could do to stuff a pillow over my face before every muscle in my body went rigid and rocked.

"You... are... going... to make me... come... so... hard..."

Posted by philip at 10:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

Random scribbles from Philip's notebook:

~ One of my new favourite sites is naked loft party. It's intelligent, well-written and thoroughly debauched. The only thing I don't like about it is that it takes place in New York, and I live in Halifax. Maybe someday I'll move to New York.

Geez. If naked loft party were written in Halifax, it would go something like this: "Leslie and I pulled down the front of her top and started kissing and sucking her erect nipples. She squirmed away and said she'd just broken up with her boyfriend last month and didn't want to get hurt again, and could we go sit in the Commons and talk instead."

Sound familiar?

I remember I posted something
1000
about threesomes a while back and the general response in the comments box was disbelief. People can't conceive of sexual adventure in Halifax.

Anyway, if it's any consolation to you people, I've had some horribly failed threesomes this year. Always there's one woman who will say "I'm up for anything, let's just relax and have some fun." And there's one who will abruptly get freaked out and have to run out of the room. Fun while it lasted! Recurring theme.

~ Sometimes there are lulls. Usually it's because I'm working a lot, and I'll scarcely notice the time passing. This is all right--the valleys give meaning to the peaks. Fortunately these "lulls" will only last a week or two at most.

Rarely will I bust out of it with a bang. I'll know a dry spell is about to end when I have a night with a couple of enjoyable close encounters. I get a feeling of anticipation. Sometimes I describe this feeling by saying "I'm in low orbit around Planet Girl."

~ A woman has been occupying my thoughts for the past week. One night at closing time I caught a glimpse of her moving through the crowd. My stomach did a little flip. My body recognized her before my brain did.

We were alone upstairs in the little hallway behind the Marquee stage when she grabbed me and kissed me. It was magical. My fingers drifted across her bare midriff. She was a very good kisser and when we broke it off I just had to take a deep breath and say "Whew."

We stayed up late that night. The next afternoon we picked out a couple of movies to watch together. Bad movies--that we wouldn't actually have to pay attention to.

~ Rethinking the direct approach. A woman came up to me at 3am and asked point-blank if I wanted to go home with her. Cute as she was, I was reluctant. No flirting? Aren't I worth investing a little time in? Mental stimulation greatly enhances physical arousal.

And on the weekend a woman told me I was "too much work." I was pleased. I took it as a compliment.

Because I'm openly promiscuous and I do this website, people sometimes assume that I'm very easy and accessible. Not necessarily. You gotta expect to work a little bit.

Except I cannot conceive of the seduction process as being "work." I find it thoroughly entertaining, every step of the way.

~ I took an "Are you an introvert or an extrovert" quiz and my score came down almost exactly fifty-fifty--right up the middle. Half and half.

Makes sense to me. I'm shockingly brazen at times, I'm a fearless performer and I have definite exhibitionist tendencies.

I'm also so shy I can barely talk to people sometimes. I was at a party recently and I had to go sit in the living room by myself because there was nobody in the kitchen I knew and I couldn't handle it.

And sometimes I can't approach women at all. Way too shy. I can make eye contact with a woman in the vegetable section of the grocery store, and within thirty seconds we're talking about cunnilingus. And yet I'll be too shy to go up to someone that I've been seeing around for a while who's really pretty.

She has to be alone, for starters. If she's sitting with a friend or a group of friends I won't approach, unless maybe she's smiling at me and licking her lips and cupping her breasts and stuff.

[Fellas: if you're not sure whether a woman is attracted to you, the best time to approach her is when she's talking to another guy. All it takes is a word. Whether she blows you off or latches onto you, you'll have have the clearest answer for the minimum social risk.]

~ People sometimes ask me for tips on picking up women. I just laugh. Seriously, what do I know? Nothing.

The best I can tell you: "Get out of the house. Show up at the bar. Show up alone. Leave by yourself. Do this a few times, until you get used to it.

Show up at the bar alone and stand somewhere by yourself and try to think cute thoughts. Don't stay too long.

It's good to get out of the house; it's good to go home."

If I had to sum it up in two words, I'd say, "pay attention."

~ Tributes to women I've never met.

1) I see her in Hell's Kitchen from time to time. She's tall with short, dark hair; very pretty. I can't tell how old she is but she comes off as being more of a woman than a girl. Her hair comes down in little curls in front of her ears and it drives me crazy. Her style of clothing is... I would say she's a little bit bohemian, but not a beatnik or anything like that; stylish and classy. I think we know some of the same people, and I keep waiting for someone to introduce us but it hasn't happened yet. Sometimes I think I'll go talk to her after work but she always slips away before the band is finished. I think I said hello to her once in passing. She said, "Hi." I should've said, "Hello, I'm Philip and I think you're very beautiful." From the moment I saw her I've known that we were destined to meet and have a smoldering affair. Maybe that's why I've been waiting so long to approach her--I'm putting too much pressure on myself because I want it to be perfect. Even though we've never met, whenever she's at the bar it makes me feel calm and relaxed just to know she's around. To know she exists.

2) I've been seeing her a lot at the Marquee lately. She's tall and blonde--blonder than blonde--with her hair usually pulled back in a ponytail, She's lovely; she's beautiful; she is an angel and I am filth. A few nights ago, I thought I saw her smiling at me but I couldn't believe it. Sometimes I wonder what she's doing hanging out at the Marquee; she's too pretty. It's not even a specifically sexual thing, it's like an aura she has. I want to put my arms around her. Again, no clue how old she is. We've never met but whenever she's in the room I get butterflies and have trouble concentrating on my job. She'll probably get a boyfriend by the time I approach her. That's OK. When they break up I'll be waiting. I'm a patient boy.

I'm already heartbroken.

Posted by philip at 09:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Welcome to the new improved hotaction website. For anyone new to the idea, hotaction.ca is the online guide to sex with Philip Clark.

There's still some tweaking to be done around here, so if you notice any broken links or anything weird going on please let me know.

I'm working on a new hotaction FAQ that I'll be posting here soon. In the meantime, here are a few more items for the hotaction glossary:

avoidance target Someone you see all over Halifax that you desperately hope not to be introduced to. Example: the Evil Robot Guy.

favourite thing Typical reward for getting on your girlfriend's good side. "She'll let you have your favourite thing tonight for sure."

Montreal syndrome Beautiful woman accompanied by an ugly little man.

plo chops Say it out loud in an "Ahnuld" voice. "It wasn't really cheating, it was just a few plo chops."

pushing rope "Sorry honey, I think I must've had a bit too much to drink."

remorseless inventory Quick and decisive evaluation of a room's sexual potential.

taco party Female version of "sausage party." Example: Lesbian folk music night at the Marquee.

Posted by philip at 12:54 PM | Permalink