Q & A - about my shithole.

Q. Well, Mr Khakibum, you've kindly agreed to answer some questions about the activities of your arsehole. We all know what comes out, but our current interest is in what has entered it. So may I begin?
A. Yes, go ahead. And by the way, you can just call me 'Khaki'.

Q. Thank you, Khaki. Now to start with, can we talk about foreign bodies pushed into your hole i.e. inanimate objects? Is that a big thing with you?
A. Not quite as big as it used to be. You know, when we were younger, in our early teenage years, I think all boys liked to experience those new-found feelings of sexual pleasure and experiment with them. I don't think I was any different from most lads in pushing small objects like smooth stones, pieces of coal, bits of soap, up my bum. As I grew I looked for new sensations, pushing the necks of bottles up there too. One of my early 'findings' was to push the corks from bottles inside me, later tied with a piece of string so that I could pull them out easily rather than shitting them out, which could be rather painful if one got too carried away with the initial insertions. Then I progressed to carrots and then further to candles, but found that although they were ideal in terms of shape, one's own body-heat would tend to melt them inside, sometimes with pieces breaking off. Not always so pleasant! Then, as an adult, of course I progressed to butt-plugs and rubber cocks or dildos with batteries that vibrated. But, as I say, it was never really a great interest with me as nothing can beat a real, big, hard, greased-up cock.
Oh, and I ought to just say that, having had a strict Catholic education there was always a mental tussle going on between my desires, which I knew to be 'sinful', with inverted commas (Laughter) and the need I felt to satisfy these urges. It hardly needs saying which one usually won, but for years I was blighted by feelings of guilt, thanks to our Holy Mother Church, I don't think! (Applause)

Q. Well, that's a really full description of your activities in that area. But now getting to the really interesting part, can you tell us, up to today, how many cocks have entered your hole? Just approximately, of course! (Laughter)
A. Actually not all that many in total, as I've always preferred the oral side. But to answer your question, I'd have to divide that question up. Firstly, the number of rubber-johnnied cocks which have been up me is, frankly, rather less than I might have wished. On the other hand, the number of 'bareback riders' I've allowed in is a bit greater than I ought to have allowed. But, you know, when one has had a few too many drinks one gets carried away and you behave in ways which, totally sober, you would have considered unwise.

Q. Yes, I know what you're referring to. But clearly you've been very lucky considering some of your past experiences.
A. Yes, I'm shit-sure that I've been very lucky indeed.

Q. Now, how many tongues have been there?
A. Do you mean actually entered, or just licked and slurped around my hole?

Q. Well, both.
A. Not enough of both! (General laughter.) It's an activity I just can't get too much of. I fuckin' LOVE it!

Q. Well, well! That's clear enough.
A.  And can I just add that my other end - my tongue - is never satisfied in having too many bumholes to penetrate. If a guy's naked hole is presented to me I've just got to lick it all round and gently push my tongue in and lick all I can inside. I like to lick the shit out of guys - literally!  (Applause.)

Q. Now can I just ask you one further question on that? You may not wish to answer but if you'll just allow me to ask it anyway. Using both your arsehole and your tongue in an activity which you clearly love to engage in, have you ever experienced any nasty after-effects, if you get my meaning?
A, Yes, I certainly do know what you are referring to. I must once again thank my uncanny luck. I have never once experienced any trouble at either end as a consequence of this particular activity. At least so far. I certainly don't intend to give up doing it, but am always aware that any day my luck may change. But, as I say, so far, the gay bum-sex gods have been looking kindly on me, though any day they could turn round and give me a really nasty bite on the arse.

Q. Ah, that's excellent. Thank you, Khaki, for giving us the time to speak so frankly to us on this delicate but fascinating subject.
A. Not at all, Sir. It was a pleasure. Now, (licking lips) turn round, drop your pants and bend over! Ha ha!

(General applause and cheers.)
 

My (long ago) teenage shiny purple-head nob.

Even at my then tender age I'd have been longing for a man willing to suck this off for me - rolling it round and round in his wet mouth like a large boiled sweet (a gob-stopper, literally!), lashing, stroking and licking it with his tongue until it spurted my 'cream' into that spitty receptacle, and me watching to see his Adam's Apple bob up and down to show that he'd swallowed all my precious 'gift' gratefully.

When first shown this I nearly pissed myself.......

......not only because I thought it funny (I think it'll raise at least a smile on my blog-readers' faces), but because this depiction of army corporal  punishment being meted out to a hapless squaddie has firm resonances to my own experience in the boy scouts (even the uniforms are similar, while their colour is identical), when I was given the caning of my life during a country camp just after my own sexual humiliation by older boys, and immediately prior to being permanently and ignominiously expelled from that illustrious organisation. In my case, though, I had to bend over a low-hanging tree branch whilst trying to keep hands on knees - and the sadistic bugger who gave the caning was the Scout Troop Leader who also happened to be an Irish priest. It was delivered in front of the entire assembled troop as a warning that any future 'gross misconduct' (of which I was totally innocent) by ANY scout would have the same result. Was it any wonder I turned out the way I am? But this blog is running too far ahead. When I get round to it I might give fuller details in future blogs, probably in instalments as it's a l-o-n-g story.
But back to this drawing. I hope you all like it as much as I do.  Ha ha ha!!!

Calling all MEN! Fancy a lick? FREE for all men with a tongue..

If you want more than a lick, that should be possible. If it's unusual it might have to be the subject of negotiation but I'm sure an arrangement could be made (depending on if I'm pissed at the time and to what extent). But even totally sober I am quite broad-minded.

Btw I am NOT a male slut! I'm just a humble, khaki-skinned chap offering assistance to other guys wishing to experience simple pleasures.

If this man in khaki came at me, waggling his lathi........

.......would I get on my knees? Hell, sure as shit I would!!!! And not only that, I'd do WHATEVER he commanded me.

Sunny Deol (in film 'Jo Bole So Nihal') - sexy as hell with a beard - but, for me, not nearly so without it.

Why all this KHAKI?

Well to start at the beginning.......
Because of my ancestry, my skin has a sallow-swarthy complexion. At school I was not only the darkest in the class I was also the only non-white face in the entire school at that time.
One day in our geography class our master (one of several Irish priests) picked me out to answer one of his questions, which I did correctly. His flippant comment was "Yes, that's right, you little khaki bomb!" Of course the whole class erupted with hilarity at this witticism, which I'm sure was meant to be jocular rather than offensive. I was more discomfited by the attention put on me than the words said. But that was the very moment when my lifelong association with khaki began.
Of course, boys being boys, they weren't going to let the remark be forgotten. In the ensuing recreation periods wherever I went I was greeted with the new nickname which was sometimes 'Khakibomb' but was soon transformed into 'KhakiBUM'!' I was asked several times - "Hey there, is it right that you've got a khaki bum? Ha ha!" . This sort of remark continued for some time to my annoyance. Now I ought to mention that up to that point, in the same manner that someone called Robinson will be called 'Robbo' , or a Smith will be called 'Smithy', my class nickname was already 'Carty', playing on my actual surname. As the sounds of that name and 'khaki' were very close, one quickly and easily got changed into another. The 'bum' part was dropped, and I began being called just 'Khaki', which, after a while, I started getting used to. This continued for the remainder of my school life.
After leaving school and starting work the nickname dropped out of my life apart from with the three of four school mates I'd continued to have contact with. After a while, when fully an adult, I decided to resurrect it and use it generally - and have been known as 'Khaki' by lots of friends and acquaintances ever since. I like the word, the stuttering sound of it, the spiky look of it when written, the musty male smell of it, the gritty taste of it, the rough feel of it, the blunt, work-a-day functionality of it, and its masculine colour - though its military associations I don't care to dwell on. The single word itself wasn't available as a name for this new blog of mine, which would have been my first choice, so for the sake of uniqueness I've reverted to the now gently self-mocking title of 'Khakibum'. So now you know.

Oh, I can just mention that back at school after this new name became established it was suggested that with a name like mine it would be especially appropriate if I should seriously consider joining the boy scouts and wear their uniform (hence the picture at the top of this entry).. I was initially reluctant, not being a very sociable animal, but the repeated suggestions grew in volume which eventually led me to join that 'illustrious' organisation - a decision that would seal my fate and get me caught in a particular khaki web of fetishism from which I've never been able to escape, though I enjoy it too much to really want to disentangle myself - and NO, it's emphatically NOT to do with boys!!! . Intriguing? I hope so. But details of what happened next in my development will have to wait for a future blog.......

They're off!

Testing.....testing. Here I come.