Watch out, Lena Chen: there’s another sex blogger on the Internetz AND he’s not currently in committed, monogamous relationship!

The gay blogger, who goes by “Boy Toy” is placed by some sources as a junior at Harvard. The Chicago locale is just a front to throw you off the scent. Actually, not that hard when 42% of Harvard students have had 0 sexual partners in the past year. (That number drops to 33.7% nationally.)  Although who knows, it could be an aging, diapered Floridian with an overactive imagination.

Boy Toy is keeping mum on the specifics of his identity, although he insinuates he’s a Harvard affiliate. If we hear another creepy nudge-nudge statement, we might petition for an honorary associates degree from the Extension School:

Although I’m not going to pretend like these stories are not somewhat ‘tickled and fluffed’ into a more coherent narrative, every guy has a very real-life equivalent… Perhaps you recognize some of them?

This 2(x)ist wearing commitment-phobe loves to have international sexcapades in in highly narrative detail. One Army hookup’s lips “taste like syrup.” Aunt Jemima, we hardly knew ye.

After the jump, Harvard Boy Toy takes you to second base… and… that’s about it.

The blog makes up for what it lacks in gory sexual detail with a whole lot of foreplay. (Tease!)

And as soon as the elevator doors close, I slam my “guest” up
against the wall and start making out with him, putting my tongue deep
in his mouth while catching my reflection on the clean metallic mirror.
His baseball cap falls off as he grabs my butt and then reaches up to
place his arms all the way around my ribs. I feel the pressure rising
as we escalate fast from floor to floor.

Finally the 28th floor, bing!

Which of course, is followed by nothing more than some making out. Then fade to black.

In the most explicit scene from the blog, Boy Toy proves himself to be somewhat of a detail-oriented romantic, no matter kind of casual club head he’s receiving.

He pins me down with both arms and sticks his tongue in my mouth. He is a sloppy kisser, but I don’t mind. The best way to deal with it, I’ve learned, is to be sloppy back. He has full lips and likes it whenever I bite down gently on his lower one. Birthday Boy straddles me and sits up to unbutton his shirt. He does it slowly, one button at a time, while I play with his thighs resting close to my ribs. As soon as he takes it off all the way, I lift forward and begin licking his
caramel-colored chest, firmly stroking his nipples with my tongue.

He pushes me back down and starts taking off my shoes and socks while looking up at me and smiling, almost innocently. It’s endearing. He’s
like a puppy eager to play.

Then he unbuckles my belt and unzips my pants, digs down through my boxers and starts going down on me. I caress his head with one hand and use the other to lift my tee-shirt all the way up closer to my chest so I can caress my nipples while he  sucks me off. The fact that he’s a sloppy kisser is not such
a bad thing after all.

Despite his willingness to describe his active sex life in thinly fictionalized detail, he claims he’s really shy around the cute ones. Look at that sweet core of vulnerability amidst the hardbodied, Abercrombie and Fitch-clad exterior:

Yes, I can usually muster up enough bravado to strike up a lively conversation with a bunch of strangers. But with those certain boys that make my heart skip a beat, it’s a completely different story. When it comes to interacting with potential bedmates, I tend to freeze rather than flirt.

So who is this mysterious Boy Toy? We’ll keep his sexy blogging antics and will probably ferret out his real identity along with a bundle of softcore gay porn. And we will post them—gotta do something to keep our lawyers on their toes. Meantime, wait with(out) bated breath and send us clues: tips@ivygateblog.com.