If you have been following my blog for even a short while, you probably know quite a few things about me.
I'm very open about my life, body, sex life, and everything else you can think of.
The only topics I don't write about are politics and religion.
I don't write about these issues because people are tired of reading about them. I'm not going to convince you to change your political views, and I don't want to.
I do hope to change your attitude about life and show you how to be happier. That's one of the reasons why I share my experiences so freely with my followers.
Here are some facts about me that you probably already know:
I'm gay (dah)
I'm a bottom (double dah)
I'm a nudist
I frequently go to the nudist beach
This photo demonstrates quite well the above
I have lots of incredible sex at the nudist beach
I have lots of great sex in general
I'm naked or semi-naked while hiking whenever I can.
I have a boyfriend; he's the love of my life.
We are in an open relationship.
I'm German on my father's side and Greek on my mother's.
Here are some facts about my body and my sex life:
I'm 6' tall and weigh 74 kilos or 163 pounds.
My ass is naturally smooth, so are my balls and my hole.
When erect, my cock is quite thick and longer than average (compared to Israeli penises)
I neither shave nor trim any part of my body.
I didn't trim my bush to have a wing-like shape (seriously, someone asked me about it.)
The quickest way to get me hard is to touch my hole.
I don't particularly appreciate getting a blow job.
Consequently, I'm not particularly eager to shoot my load in another guy's mouth.
I have no idea how many guys have fucked me, but it's a four-digit number.
I rarely get fucked by guys who don't kiss (CV-19 has changed that, though)
Almost all my friends have fucked me, but most of them no longer do (but of course, none of the ladies 😜)
Some facts about my past:
I've been fascinated with penises since I was 5-year-old.
I sucked my first cock when I was nine.
I had my first boyfriend when I was 11; we were together for two years.
I had my second one when I was 13, also for two years.
I was in a boarding school between the ages of 13-17
I was first fucked when I was 16.
An older man raped me when I was 17. He was never brought to justice. You can read about it here: Raped @ 17 - Part 1
I was first fucked by an uncut cock when I was 19.
I joined the army when I was 17.5 years old and served in an elite infantry unit for three years.
Past or present, I've always been a happy person.
However, on the morning of 9-30-2018, something terrible happened.
I was no longer happy. I was miserable beyond belief.
I became disabled.
I'm 30% disabled because of neurological damage to the right side of my brain.
The first six months after my injury were pure hell. In general, the first year was the most horrible year of my life.
Four months after it had happened, I opened this blog. Naturally, my first blog posts were about my injury.
Two years have passed since my injury.
I'm disabled, and there is nothing that can be done.
However, I'm once again happy and fuckable even though I'm no longer the same care-free bottom who'd enjoyed an unforgettable night of sex a few hours before my brain injury.
That night, my love hole was double-penetrated, and my ass got loaded with cum five times. From start to finish, it was six hours of ecstasy.
We started fucking in my rooftop jacuzzi.
They took turns fucking me doggie-style until both loaded my ass with delicious cum. I know it was delicious because I tasted it as it was leaking out of my love hole.
The second, slightly older guy, fucked my hole while it was still full of cum. It wasn't too long before he bred me as well. Once my love hole was full of so much cum, I allowed myself to drain my balls as well.
I experienced two incredible orgasms that night.
My second orgasm was when my love hole was double-penetrated in bed by their thick cocks.
I shot my load simultaneously with the younger guy. He flooded my ass with a massive amount of cum while the other guy kept fucking me. His cock was stimulating both my ass and the other guy's cock.
I want to tell you more about that incredible lustful night. Although, in retrospect, it was probably the reason for my brain injury.
But first, I would like to go back to one of my first blog posts and share it with you. That blog post was about ignorance and why sometimes it's an important virtue.
Conventional wisdom tells us that ignorance is a bad thing and that knowledge is power.
I do believe in that.
The more you know, the more capable you are in dealing with challenging situations. However, my injury taught me that sometimes ignorance has its virtues.
What was the exact nature of my injury?
The medical term is brain Ischemia. It happens due to an inadequate blood supply that is not stroke-related.
The morning after admitting myself to the E.R, I was invited to meet a neurological doctor in that same hospital.
Since my situation was grim (brain damage, and all that), he had to monitor my condition. During the first two months after my injury, I met with him six times.
Why did I have to see him so often?
Ischemia is an ongoing condition that lasts for a few months. The actual event happens in seconds, but it takes a few weeks for the damage to develop.
For some, it takes up to six months until the neurons stop dying.
In my case, the inflammation was over after two months, and my condition had stabilized. During the first two months, I knew that my neurons kept dying and that no one could stop this process.
I felt as if I was drowning.
When I was told that the inflammation was over and that there wasn't going to be any more damage, I finally felt that I could start recovering.
My goal was to return to life as fast as possible. But I knew it wasn't going to be easy.
My disability forced me to adjust.
Sometimes I drop items or I feel dizzy. My right vision is a mess, and so is my hearing. I can't tolerate loud noises or bright lights.
My reflexes are slower, and I can't concentrate like I used to. Everything takes a little bit longer. I need to drive more slowly. Sometimes it's even hard for me to speak.
One thing that still works like a charm is my cock. It gets hard when I need it to.
Despite all these things, I hide my disability quite well.
A year after my injury, during a "happy hour" at the company I work for, we played a game. Each person had to share two stories. Only one of them was true.
The others had to guess which was which.
I made up a ridiculous story about how I captured 30 enemy soldiers during my army service and won a medal for it.
My second story was short: I said that I have neurological damage, and as a result, I'm 30% disabled. My vision and hearing are feeble, and so on.
No one believed it.
They chose my absurd story about me being a war hero.
That was my way to come out to all my co-workers. I wanted then to realize that even though I'm disabled, I can work and be productive just like anyone else.
My camouflage is so good that sometimes I wish my friends would know how hard it is for me and support me more.
But I prefer it that way.
I can hide my disability quite well, but there was no place to hide when I met with my neurological doctor.
Each time I went to see him, it was a painful reminder that I was not the same person I used to be.
With him, there could be no camouflage, no games, no funny stories.
I allowed him and his assistants to poke my body and cause me pain. But the discomfort was nothing compared to the agony.
When they conducted their tests, I realized how badly my disability was. They were not trying to put me down. They only wanted to see how severe my situation was and if it had worsened since my last visit.
During my daily life, I try not to think about my injury.
But each time I went to see him was like being punched in the stomach. After each visit, It took me at least a week to recover emotionally.
I cried a lot during that week.
Our last meeting took place at the end of January 2019.
"Theon, it seems that the inflammation is over. The damage is here to stay. It might worsen, but that's unlikely, and I don't expect it will get any better. You will need to come again for a check-up in three months, then six months, and then every year."
Before leaving the clinic, I set up a date for my next appointment.
I was supposed to meet with him in April. But when the date was approaching, I started thinking about it.
I started asking myself why should I see him ever again.
There was nothing he could do to help me.
He can't prevent another ischemia. If the situation worsens, I don't need his awful tests to know that. I will feel it right away.
Two weeks before the appointment, I called the hospital and canceled it.
I don't need any more doctors.
All I need are the following:
Nudity, Beach time with my darling Luka, Sunsets, Freedom,
I don't need anything else.
I'm happy as can be.