Category Archives: ASK ROGAN

SCI FI films you need to check out.

By | ASK ROGAN | No Comments

Having wasted 122 minutes watching Alien Covenant last night (I knew I was going to hate it, hence not bothering when it was on the big screen but the Alien fan in me drew me to check it out like a pimple with a head itching to be squeezed.)

Anyway i thought id do a post of actual KIKASS SCI FI films that you should check out.

my MACROPHILIA short story.

By | ASK ROGAN | No Comments

My latest photoshoot at my GALLERY page explores my fascination with MACROPHILIA. And to go along with it I wrote this short story that should get you guys and gals wet even if you’re not into giants!


Macrophilia is a fascination with or a sexual fantasy involving giants. It is typically a male fantasy, with one male playing the “smaller” part–entering, being dominated, or being eaten by a larger man.



Jax only knew what everyone else did about Rogan. He was very dedicated to his gym made obvious by his enormous physique of muscle layered on top of muscle. The thick sheet of hair covering almost every inch of his body made Zak assume he was either too comfortable with himself or too old to care about conforming to all the smooth muscled bodies that surrounded him. And he was blatantly confident as he never wore underwear made strikingly obvious by his big slong dangling between his thick legs in his lose gym pants.

Jax sat on the lat pull down machine and watched Rogan from across the gym floor as he picked up two 80 kilo dumbbells in each hand like they were pillowcases and walked over to the incline bench with a steadfast look on his face. He started to press the dumbbells effortlessly, that were heavier than Jax himself, who weighed in at 75 kilos last time he checked. Jax was handsome leaning towards cute. At 6 foot tall, messy unkempt dark hair, he had too much muscle definition to be considered a ‘Twink’ but not enough to chose ‘Jock’ as the community he identifies with on SCRUFF, so had to settle for ‘Guy Next Door’ and ‘Geek’. Rogan’s arms tensed up under the weight, the veins popping out from his massive biceps and forearms. But that was nothing compared to his thick hairy pecs that seem to pump up bigger and bigger with each rep, stretching out from the sides of his already tiny muscle stringer, his full nipples with their big metal bullrings dangling on either side.

Jax noticed other people stop and stare. Some in awe, some inspired, quite a few intimidated and most drooling. Jax was very observant, in school he was always the quiet kid in the corner who watched the other kids. He was always the one who noticed things no one else seem too. He had noticed something about Rogan but couldn’t quite figure out what it was but he definitely knew there was something… different about Rogan, something… strange.

He studied Rogan as he ploughed through his set and thought he could see Rogan restraining himself. Jax knew that everyone else watching would mistake it as him just straining through his set but Jax could see the weight wasn’t affecting Rogan, he could have been pressing two Jiff Pom’s, it was something else, something much bigger under the surface trying to burst out. Like he was straining to keep something in… like he was…

“Good evening members the gym will be closing in 10 minutes please finish your workout and pack your weights up so I don’t have too. Thanks.” Said the cocky voice over the club speakers. People started shuffling like they had a purpose. Jax saw the bench next to Rogan become free and made a B way over to it. The first thing Jax noticed as he got closer was Rogan’s body odour, though you could pretty much notice it when you entered the gym. This close to him Jax got intoxicated with it.

A bunch of curse words distracted Jax and he tuned to see Cambie, the receptionist behind him pointing accusingly at a pile of weights on the floor, staring at a guy who was trying to sneak away. “Are these yours?” Cambie asked. The man nodded feebly. “Your mamma coming to clean these up?” Cambie said. The man quickly started to put the weights away. Cambie was blonde, in his early twenties, built like a ruby player. He always had a smile to greet you with at reception but a temper when he had to deal with lazy members.

Cambie moved over to Rogan who removed his wireless headphones and for the first time seemed to notice there was another human in the gym. They bumped fists. Jax had seen a few of the larger bodybuilders use this form of greeting and come to the conclusion that you had to be in the “Big Boys” club to acknowledge each other as so. But even Cambie who was impressively bigger than everyone else in the gym looked small as he stood next to Rogan.

“Hey Cam.” Rogan said with a genuine smile that seemed strange to come from the face that was a concrete of seriousness only seconds ago.

“You wanna stay back? You know how to lock up?” Cambie asked.

“That would be great.” Rogan replied.

Cambie winked saying, “You owe me one.”

…Just as Rogan stepped forward grabbing him and spinning him around forcing him over the bench. Rogan gripped Cambie’s shorts in his hands and tore them open revealing a muscle bubble white ass covered in blonde fluff. Rogan pushed his pants down and his massive thick cock flew out, pre-cum dripping from its mouth….

Jax shook his head, snapping out of the fantasy to see that Cambie had moved away to yell at the next person who had left their weights lying around. Jax turned back to Rogan but he was already into a set, the smile replaced with pure determined concentration. Jax wasn’t going to achieve anything sitting here staring at the guy but a new opportunity had just presented itself.

The gym seem to empty quickly and Jax had to move fast. He found a hiding spot behind some large wooden boxes that was in the corner of the room. He was squatting down behind them as he heard Cambie’s voice come over the speakers again, “The gym is now officially closed. If you are still training stop and go home.” A few moments later the music was switched off and all the lights in the gym except the ones in the dumbbell area where Rogan was training were turned off. After a few stragglers had left the gym Jax heard Cambie shut the entrance and knew that he was now alone in the gym with Rogan.

Rogan seemed to realise he was alone at the same time. Jax could easily watch Rogan through the crack between two of the boxes as he removed his headphones and walked into the centre of the room. Jax thought it was very odd that Rogan seemed to scan the club making sure he was alone. He had never seen him care wether he was being watched. A small feeling ignited in Jax’s belly that he quickly recognised as fear. Rogan peeled his top off as he returned to the weight rack and picked up the 100 kilo dumbbells from the corner of the room that Jax had always thought were just decoration.

He watched Rogan lie back on the bench and start his set. As he pressed the ridiculously heavy weights something was different. He seemed more… relaxed. That’s when Jax’s breath got caught in his throat. With every rep Rogan’s chest seemed to expand, growing bigger. His pecs stretched out as he controlled the weights down and as he thrust his arms up, contracting, his pecs seemed to grow inhumanly bigger like two huge hairy mounds. It wasn’t just his chest either. His shoulders and arms were growing thicker and larger, the veins looking like snakes slithering under his skin. And his growl, a deep animal growl that Jax hadn’t noticed at first but now seemed to vibrate through his bones.

Jax felt light headed than remembered to breath. Fear had quickly been replaced with something else that made Jax get a huge boner in his pants. Rogan yelled out slamming the weights down. He was almost too big to even lie on the bench now. He stood up and Jax noticed that Rogan’s upper body wasn’t the only part of him that had grown. His three quarter loose gym pants were now stretched taught over his gigantic quads and the outline of his thick cock left nothing to the imagination. He must have been at least 7 foot tall now, maybe taller. Rogan strode into the centre of the room. His chest heaving, sweat dripping down his body. He stoped turning back to look at himself in the mirror and ripped his pants completely off to be standing there naked. His cock seemed to fly forward released from its restraints. It was semi hard, but even semi with it being the size of a normal mans leg, it looked hard enough. Jax quickly pinched himself half expecting to snap out of another daydream.

Rogan seemed to howl then, a deep guttural animal howl. Think a cross between An American Werewolf in London and the T-Rex from Jurassic park. Then Rogan flexed, pulling a double bicep pose and every muscle on his entire body, I mean EVERY MUSCLE that Jax’s eye could see seemed to strain and grow in size, veins popping out of nowhere and Jax thought he may have pissed himself a little.

Rogan flexed again, this time a most muscular and to Jax’s astonishment he grew even larger almost up to the ceiling of the gym, which was two stories high. Rogan was a giant! A huge, muscular, hairy beast of a giant! His delts were like basketballs the size of truck tyres. His arms tree trunks. His chest a thick jungle of hair over two concrete slabs of muscle. His hard cock was a thick dark veiny concrete barrel, dripping pre-cum out of its mammoth head. His legs were like concrete poles and his enormous thick feet were what you would expect Big Foots feet to look like only… bigger! Jax gasped. Rogan was looking straight at him.

Rogan stared straight at the boy his head turned to the side. He shuffled around to face Jax and the site of Rogan’s gargantuan cock facing directly towards him like a cannon, drooling none the less, made Jax’s mouth drop to the floor. He was still thinking he might shit his pants at any moment but he would do it with a raging boner. Rogan didn’t speak he just stood there, his great chest moving up and down with every breath. His cock seeming to throb and bounce to its own rhythm. Finally Jax found the courage to stand up and meekly move out from behind the boxes. “I won’t tell anyone.” Was all he could muster.

“Come here boy.” Rogan’s voice boomed out at him. Jax was shaking and didn’t even try to hide it. He was absolutely sure now that he had wet himself but didn’t look down to draw attention to it. He didn’t know if he was more scared for his life or aroused as he walked towards the immense man. He stopped a few paces away so that he could still see Rogan’s face high above him and not have it obscured by his massive cock and balls. Jax’s head was in line with Rogan’s knee.

“Lets have some fun.” Rogan boomed at him. Jax noticed it wasn’t a question. Jax instinctively stripped away his clothes, which made Rogan smile at the boy. Jax smiled back ready. Suddenly Rogan lifted his foot and shoved it gently into Jax. Gently enough not to break any bones but with enough force to knock the boy flat on his back. Rogan then stepped on him. Rogan’s foot covered Jax from groin to neck. Jax wrapped one arm around Rogan’s big toe and the other around his first toe his face in between the two looking up at Rogan who looked back down at him with that smirk on his face. Jax felt the air being pushed out of him, as he’s whole body was crushed under Rogan immense weight. He couldn’t help thinking to himself that this took C&B torture to whole new playing field. As he felt the last of his breath being pushed out of his lungs, a moment of panic erupted within him. That’s when Rogan released the pressure removing his foot to stop just above Jax.

Jax gulped at the air filled with Rogan’s foot odour. “Do that again.” Jax was breathing fast with excitement, he could feel his hard dick quivering in anticipation but Rogan’s foot didn’t move. Jax looked up at him confused. Then said, “Do it again, Master.” Rogan’s foot shot down and smothered him again. With the fear of dying not preoccupying his mind Jax just enjoyed the sensation of literally being stepped on. The intoxicating flood of foot sweat filled Jax’s nostrils as he allowed himself to completely submit to the sensation of being pressed into the floor. And just when the room started to blur away the pressure was removed. It took Jax a few moments to gather himself and stumble back onto his feet and just as he did Rogan’s hand swept down and gripped him lifting him off the ground.

Jax’s first thought was, so this is how Jessica Lange felt. Then he was moving fast towards Rogan’s pecs. Imagine being dropped into a huge furry carpet. Jax hit the muscle of Rogan’s chest and Rogan held him there squashed between two huge mounds of furry muscle. Jax was getting wet from the sweat that dripped down the concave of Rogan’s chest as he flexed bringing the two pec mountains together even more, holding Jax firmly between them. Rogan removed his hand and Jax was held there, suspended in Rogan’s tits. Rogan toyed with him as he had when he was under his feet. Squeezing his tits together almost crushing Jax then releasing him enough to breathe but not fall away from between his two monstrous chest muscles.

Jax almost yelled out in joy as he was squashed between Rogan’s massive pecs, squeezing his entire body, only his legs dangling out the bottom. Then all of a sudden they parted and he was falling. Rogan stopped his fall grabbing him again in one hand. He held Jax in front of him. Jax looked at him in wonder. “You’re incredible!” he called out. “That was nothing.” Rogan replied then moved Jax across his body towards his free arm lowering him into the fold of his arm. Keeping hold of Jax’s legs so that he couldn’t move Rogan slowly started to flex his arm. Jax, stuck between Rogan’s bicep and forearm, felt like he was stuck in between two narrowing brick walls. When Rogan had flexed enough to trap Jax between his two muscles he let go of his legs holding him in the crease of his bicep.

If Rogan’s chest was a fluffy sea of muscle this was like the garage compactor in Star Wars with no C3-P0 on the stop button. With the certain knowledge that Rogan could easily squash the life outta him with his bicep fear crept back into Jax. But the fear only aroused Jax to higher levels of euphoria and he finally understood all those FKIN crazy adrenaline junkies that did stupid shit on TV shows.

Rogan removed Jax from his arm and held the boy in front of him. Jax took deep breaths trying to get back his composure as he looked at the mammoth beast in front of him. Jax wanted to ask him a billion questions but they all raced to his head at once in a messy jumble and only made him mute. Then Jax noticed Rogan’s smile was bigger, no not bigger, more amused, and maybe eager. “Oh no.” was the one thought that did manage to escape his lips as Rogan holding Jax in his left hand moved him into his right underarm pit.

Of course as soon as Rogan grew 30 feet tall his notorious body odour had increased 10 fold but with everything else that he had been doing to Jax the boy hadn’t really focussed on it. Well, he was about to suffocate in it. Rogan had lifted his right arm up, opening his ripe sweaty pit and the musk hit Jax like opening the door to a sauna in Antarctica. The air was moist in Rogan’s thick sent. Jax gagged at the intensity but quickly attempted to accommodate it or die from it. Rogan slapped him up against his wet armpit and Jax was now drenched in the monsters sweat. Then Rogan started to lower his arm trapping Jax within his pit. The world disappeared from Jax, the light, the sounds, everything and was replaced by what I’m sure someone who wasn’t into BO would easily refer to as the real life ‘Bog of Eternal Stench”! Even though Jax got off on male BO. (Lets quickly make the immense significant difference between male and female BO. Male BO is hot and female BO smells like perfume mixed with cat piss.) The intensity of Rogan’s pits was completely suffocating. Every thing went even darker as Jax lost consciousness.

Jax eyes flittered open and he blinked away the harsh florescent light that flooded into them. He was lying on his back on the gym floor. He still smelt like Rogan. Who was he kidding, he was gonna smell like Rogan for weeks. How the fuck was he gonna explain this to his friends and family or work. He sat up and turned to look behind him to where Rogan sat. Still a behemoth. Stroking his cannon cock. The phrase, “It’s not going to fit” would totally be lost in translation here and Jax would be better of asking Rogan is he liked sounding and crawling into the head of his dick instead.

Rogan stood up and watched himself in the mirror. He started to flex with his free arm. Tensing his titanic legs and chest. Jax fumbled to his feet, watching Rogan’s entire gargantuan muscular body straining, veins the size of anacondas appearing over his muscles and his prodigious cock, one throbbing chunky piece of meat covered in vine like veins. Jax quickly started tugging at his raging hard on, he had never felt so aroused in his entire life and no doubt ever would again. Rogan just watched his own reflection and if it was possible he seemed to be growing bigger again. Or maybe just his cock, Jax wasn’t sure.

Jax saw that Rogan was starting to achieve climax, which only got Jax there even quicker. “You want this Daddy’s juice boy!” Again not a question, more a rhetorical statement but Jax screamed back out, “Yes muscle monster! Yes daddy Rogan! Feed me your juice! FKIN drown me in your muscle cum!” This seemed to push Rogan to the edge as he howled out. Imagine Rogan Richards, only two stories tall, looking like a real life ULTRASWOLE drawing, every muscle on his body stretched taught against the skin looking like its about to explode, veins every where and his cock, this black, throbbing, veiny, leviathan (that Stan Winston wished he’d created!) fat with hunger to explode. That’s what Jax’s was looking at. That’s what Jax was going to cum too. That’s when Rogan’s cock exploded and a tsunami of thick cum propelled out of its head smashing into Jax, knocking him off his feet and across the gym floor.

Jax skidded to a stop half way across the gym. Covered in it. He dug it away from his eyes and mouth, swallowing what he couldn’t remove just in time to see Rogan shrinking back to human size. Well, as human as Rogan’s normal size is anyway. He walked across the room avoiding walking in his own cum to where Jax still sat dumbfounded. He smiled at the boy. “That was fun.” Jax managed a nod. “I’m gonna hit the shower, you should too.” Rogan started to turn away then stopped looking back at the boy. “And if you ever mention this to anyone, I’ll eat you.” He winked at Jax then walked to the men’s change room.

“Shit!” Jax thought to himself, “I didn’t blow.”





IF YOU COULD ONLY SEE (my relationship with meth.)

By | ASK ROGAN | 3 Comments


“Love them from a distance.” That’s the advice they gave me to deal with Skippy’s meth addiction. I was once asked. ”When do you know when you should walk away?” And at the time I filmed an ASK ROGAN segment with Skip and we both said you need to walk away when the addicts are not willing to help themselves. Both those pieces of advice are complete bullshit.

I don’t have the answer to any questions. I want to say, save yourself and walk away from the start but I couldn’t and I haven’t. Because I loved him so much? Or because I’m stubborn? Because I feel guilty and because I fucked up and want to make it right? Because we never had the chance? All of the above. Sometimes I think I was supportive, needed, something for him to hold onto to stop from going under. Then other times I think I was enabling him, making things worse, hurting us both. I cant tell the difference anymore. All I know is you can’t be with someone who’s an active addict cause it will destroy you. But if you love them and can’t turn away from them, what do you do?

I remember one night, after I had told him I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, I went and fucked a muscle couple to take my mind of it, as I do. I didn’t cum and I left only feeling more pent up frustration than before I had gone to their house. I could track Skip via his iPhone and despite every inch of me screaming don’t look, I looked for him and saw that he was at a sauna. (Tracking him became an obsession, and trying to tell myself not to look up where he was at any given time was like trying to tell Britney Spears not to flick her hair.) I drove to the sauna, the whole time arguing with myself to turn back. The next thing I’m taking off my clothes and putting them in a locker and walking down the hallway with my freshly washed towel around my hips…

I don’t know how long I was in there but it seemed like forever, Walking around the hallways, looking into rooms, trying to see if one of the tangled bodies in the middle of a group fucking was him or not. At one point I gave up and just tried to get my dick sucked but no one seemed interested. Maybe the smell of desperation was too poignant. I realized I had to go home when I found myself outside a locked room listening to someone being fucked inside and trying to figure out if it was him or not. No, it gets better. I then walked into the adjacent room and tried to scale the dividing wall and peep over it. You know, with out making it sound like, a 100 kilo gorilla was trying to do so. When I slipped and ended up on my ass I was like, “ENOUGH! Go home!” Or maybe it was Mousey, so mortified at my behaviour, had taught himself telepathy and got into my head. Either way, I went and put on my clothes and handed in my towel and that’s when the guy behind the counter said, “You just missed Skippy, he just left with the guys.” And my heart plummeted down through my chest and tummy and out my ass. I remember being upset that he was there and I didn’t find him but destroyed that he had left with, “the guys.” 

I walked to my car and texted him. Skip never answers his phone when he’s on it so when he texted me back my whole world started to spin. I told him I was in the area and for him to meet me outside the sauna… And he agreed.

I met him and there was some small talk and I asked him if he wanted to go inside with me and he said ok. He wanted to know what I was doing and I said I had no FKIN idea. All I knew was I wanted to be naked with him. That night I blasted for the first time because I wanted to know what this amazing high felt like. I wanted to know what had ripped Skippy away from me. I wanted to give it a face. I wanted to look it in the face and tell it to FK off.

What I did was pretty FKED up. But I wanted to do it and I don’t regret it. As it turns out noting happened, it was like popping a 90s ecstasy pill. This is a common thing with my relationship with drugs. Nothing affects me, or I’m bent over vomiting. There seems to be no middle ground and besides all drugs make me soft, including G so why the FK would I wanna use any? A lot of the time gay guys use drugs to get to a piggy level of sex, but that’s me naturally.

And that’s not the worst story. Oh, and that wasn’t the first time I’d tracked him to a public place and wasn’t the last. Fighting Skip’s meth addiction made me do, and think, and be things I never thought possible. So now lets take a minute to address the elephant in the room. Why the FK would you stay with someone who is acting the way Skip was? I‘ve compared it to Cap 3 before and Bucky and the Cap’s relationship. And as silly as it is, it’s exactly what it’s like!

All the professional help I received made it clear to me that the person under the influence of their addiction has no power over what they’re doing and doesn’t care who they hurt. It’s like they’re possessed. So how do you hate someone who is “professionally described as“ helpless? How do you hold them accountable for what you’re being told they cant control? Can I have some FKIN help here? Do you see my frustration? Of course I was in control the entire time. I had the power to walk away at any point. But I have seen Skip as the most amazing, loyal and beautiful man and I took that man for granted and abused and hurt him. So yeah, there was a lot of guilt keeping me there. But more than guilt, hope. Hope that we could finally at least try to be the couple he always wanted us to be and that I finally realised we could be. Just a little too late.

And it’s so lonely when no one else truly gets what you’re going through. When all your friends are telling you to walk away, when you’re family don’t like him and wouldn’t understand and you have no support. I felt so alienated. I don’t blame my friends I would be telling them the exact same thing if the roles were reversed. And unless it’s happening to you, you don’t truly understand it. You might think you do and FK does everyone have a FKIN opinion but you don’t know a FKIN thing. It was actually during some of my lowest and loneliest times that the positive comments on my social media from followers helped me keep my determination alive. So I want to thank you guys for that. I was extremely fortunate to find a meth councillor, who has since become a very close friend of mine, who was the only support I had or person I could ask advise from. Of course I rang every help line available and even went to a group. The help lines have their place in the system but were FKIN useless for me and the all the groups are catered towards families and couldn’t help a gay lover who sexually was a trigger for his partner.

Of course there’s the Living For Love approach. Telling them to fuck off and come back and find you when they’re clean. Which might take 3 months, 5 years or never. But you get on with your life without them. After almost a year and half of this I was at that point. I’d blocked him on all social media and began to rebuild my life without him in it. Well, as much as I could in a week before he finally started doing everything he could to get back into rehab, letting his family put him under house arrest, taking his phone and wallet off him. Seeing him finally showing me that he was ready to stop made my heart flood open again.

It was a week before my first bodybuilding comp and I had stupidly agreed to doing a sex show at Sircuit based on the availability of a visiting porn star (who ended up being FKIN useless anyway.) I didn’t know about Skip’s addiction then. All I knew was he had started lying a lot and was regularly pissing me off. I was wet rag as any bodybuilder or person who’s had close contact with a bodybuilder that close to a comp on prep would tell you. Me and Skip weren’t talking (again) but he had been advertised as doing the show so I told him he had to be there.

What’s worse is he had been fucking with the visiting guys who were also performing that night, one, in the sex show with me and Skip. Which left me FKIN heart broken, furious and craving doughnuts in no particular order! I don’t blame anyone Skip has fucked on one of his binges behind my back for Skip’s actions. Having said that I don’t wanna hang out with them either and definitely don’t wanna get naked with them. So turning up that night to do just that was FKIN hard. Even now writing about it, it hurts. 

So the first show happened, the sex show with the three of us and it was what it was and we all got through it. Me and Skip both emotional wrecks and the third guy too out of it or FKIN dumb to know what was going on. I remember being in the change rooms and just…crying. I was a week out from my comp remember! At one point I looked up and saw that Skip was next to me getting something from his bag, he would have seen me crying and said nothing. He just walked outta the room. 

All of a sudden I went from Genie in a Bottle to Fighter! I stormed outta that room and found Skip sitting on a seat talking to someone. Ok, I quickly have to tell you that we still had a second show to do, me and him. But I leant over to him and said something like, “Go fuck yourself, I don’t need you for the second show!” and continued storming my way through the club wondering what the fuck I was going to do for my second show? Which was quickly replaced with an overwhelming need to piss. 

As I was walking back out of the toilets a remix of Madonna’s Living For Love came on. And look, I know that song is all about empowerment after having your heart broken and getting on with life and loving again, but that night, maybe because I was so carb depleted, I got stuck on the “Living for Love’ bit and kinda lost the rest. I can’t even describe the wave of emotion that flooded me. I just walked back over to where Skip was, thankfully, still sitting where I left him. I grabbed him by the scuff of his T-shirt and literally picked him up with one arm and dragged him over to the stage and threw him on it. Then got up there with him and stuck my tonged down his throat. 

God knows what Skip was thinking and it would be great to hear his side of this nights escapades. I started to strip off both our clothes, Skip really had no say in what was going on. And in between kissing him I was FKIN sobbing. Literally crying my eyes out into his shoulder. Taking a breath, composing myself and then looking all serious for the crowd while we simulated sex until I pulled him into me again and started another sobbing fit. I have no FKIN idea what we did that night or what the FK it looked like to anyone watching. I remember at the time thinking, “No one can see me crying.” But I think that was similar to like when you’re drunk and throwing up in the corner of a club thinking you’re invisible to the crowded room. I do remember a guy telling Skip on social media a few days afterwards our second performance was intense.

So what now? Skip’s in rehab again. This one has a better reputation than the first one he went too and comes with a recommendation from someone that I fully trust. Also I believe that Skips ready to quit this time and to do what ever it takes. They say, “Only an addict can save themselves, they have to want to stop in order to stop.” Someone who is a recovered addict told me, “You have to want it as much as oxygen.” That’s how powerful this disease is, they need to want to quit as much as they want to live. You and I can’t even comprehend something of that magnitude. Unless, you know, you’re an addict, or recovered addict, or Mandy Moore in 47 Metres Down, and had a severe near death experience!

Have I ever told you guys I would be dead today if it wasn’t for Return of the Jedi, more specifically, the Biker Scouts? I’ll save that for another time…

Skip has his own story to tell you about his battle with meth that only he can. And as bad as it got for me, as dark and painful I know it was always ten times worse for him.

I can’t say reading this will help anyone going through something similar but I know how predominant meth is in our community and open conversation and talking about these experiences can’t hurt and only maybe educate or at least influence more discussion and maybe sometime in the future there might be a better support system for someone like me who has been fighting a loosing battle with a demon that I can’t beat. Advise for gay men on how to combat the intense connection between the meth addiction and sex.

Skippy was 4 months clean, he was starting to look like his old self, he was starting to act like his old self. His smile was bigger, that glint in his eyes were brighter and all this drove me insane with sexual frustration. I didn’t mean to fuck him that night, or maybe I did, maybe I was hoping I would and fooling myself into thinking I would be happy with lying naked with him and cuddling. I drove to his house without forewarning and soon we were naked in bed together.

We started kissing. It was intense, like we were breathing in each other through our mouths. My raging hard cock found his tight ass hole and I looked at him and said, “I wanna fuck you.” Was it selfish? Was it destructive? Was it my FKIN sex addiction once again putting my cock first and above anything else? Absolutely! (PS A meth addict and a sex addict may not be the best partnership!) If Skip knew it was potentially going to destroy him he didn’t say no to me because he saw the immense longing in my eyes or heard it in my voice and he loved me and wanted to give me something back I guess, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He just said, “I don’t know if it’s safe to go in there.” Skips a very clean bottom. I quickly answered, “I’ll risk it.” Lubed my cock up and was sliding it in before I had even finished the sentence.

Being inside him after so long and after all the emotional trauma felt strange but also felt so FKIN good. That night I didn’t BULLDOZER him like we used to it was slow, deep, gentle and FKIN passionate. He was on his back, his favourite position, so our mouths were locked together the entire time. As my cock slowly throbbed in and outta his ass, my weight on top of him, his hands all over my muscles. Until he finally said, “I’m gonna cum.” And I replied, “Cum baby, I will too.” And we both blew our loads together. Several days later, after being clean for 4 months he was back on it.

Of course I blame myself, well my dick more precisely. It was then that I thought maybe the best thing I could do for him was leave him. But he didn’t want that and neither did I.

I know Skip loves me and doesn’t want to hurt me. I acknowledge when the urge comes on its uncontrollable. I know I’m a trigger to him when all I want to do is be inside him. If there’s anyone who has sound advise on how to combat these things speak out. Cause honestly guys, these conundrums right there are the worst head fuck I have ever experienced and I was not, and still am not, equipped to understand or fight them.

If you read this Skip, I love you and I believe in you and I want you to prove everyone who doesn’t believe in you or us wrong. I wasn’t ready before but I’m ready now to be your man and together to rule the world! And our children, the GALAXY! 

To be continued…

And hey, if it doesn’t happen, well, I guess I still got a mouse I can rule the world with…




By | ASK ROGAN | No Comments

So I’ve said I was socially awkward as a kid, I suffered from depression and low self esteem, i was frigid. So what happened? How did I do a complete turn around and become Australia’s number 1 porn export, a Muscle Daddy that inspires people from across the globe, a sex God that men aspire to be or experience?

I credit these 3 songs and their accompanying videos…

the BANE

By | ASK ROGAN | No Comments

The latest RO-RI film on my XXX page is JOM (JURK Of the MONTH) Volume 2. A collection of videos of me jacking one out. It made me think back to when I was a teenager and used to think masturbation was an evil sin. Yes, I was that fucked in the head! Very sheltered catholic up bringing. You already know back then I was super shy and socially awkward, you also know I discovered masturbation by doing crunches and thought that was the only way I could make myself cum. (I’ve written about all that before.) But I have never spoken about …


WTF is the BANE? Well, it’s a Joe Donnelly horror book that I used to see on my Dad’s bookshelf … and its what I called the act of masturbation when I was a teenager. I also thought masturbation was a bad thing and hated myself for violating my body night after night. It gets better. All through high school I would keep a diary. No, not any diary, a TV HITS diary! And I would religiously write in this FKIN diary all the drama of my young life. And in this diary I would document my constant struggle with … the BANE!

It would be like, ”The BANE came again tonight and I couldn’t fight it!” or “I am going to beat the BANE!” stuff like, “I won’t let the BANE win anymore!” And of course on the very odd occasion there would be the entry, “I have beaten the BANE it hasn’t gotten me for the last three days!” Followed by, “It got me tonight.” You can’t make this shit up. I used to think jacking off was seriously bad to the point where I hated myself for doing it. And I used to have a TV HITS diary though I didn’t hate myself for that, I thought that was kinda cool. And I used to write shit like this in it! (I also used to write other crazy stuff but lets stay on topic.)

I can’t remember when I finally realised there’s nothing wrong with playing with my dick. There wasn’t a huge epiphany, a wise older man in a toilet block explaining its all very natural and good for me, maybe Madonna’s SEX book had some part in it. Or maybe I just gave up fighting but eventually I embraced the BANE, accepted I was going t o have a healthy life long relationship with it and got to work.