Clearing the docket
This has never happened to me: there are three boys after me for sex.
Which is not to say I haven't had my share of play before; I have. Even in my chubby frosh days when, straight off the farm, I had neither the gumption nor wherewithall to update my wardrobe, get a real haircut, and make my mark in the club, I still had boys after my affections.
But I have three right now, three boys messaging me online, calling me, emailing me. Do me. No, do me first. Do ME!
It's quite exciting and a nice boost to my ego.
I guess I've filled a particular niche. I have some things going for me. Devastating scruff. Nice eyes. One of the few men out there over 24 with a normal BMI, a nice patch of curly chest hair, some definition.
I have to say I am quite enjoying myself...and to be honest, my schedule this weekend has been demanding and almost exhausting.
I had Friday off from work, and so I slept in a bit, thinking I'd wake up, do some writing, clean a bit, catch up on some netflix discs.
Instead I get an email from Rey saying that he, too, has the day off.
I met Rey, a 23 year old, at a sex party a few weeks ago.
(I must diverge here slightly to exposit a minute on a topic near and dear to my heart--sex parties. It warms my heart that they happen in this city, even if I am not there to partake. I live in a place where gay sex is compartamentalized from gay social circles...it's sublimated, hidden, lied about even, and the result are men who are two-faced, hypocritical. Men here are sluts--and in a good way--but they aren't honest about it. They don't celebrate it. They squirrel it away and rely on gay.com hookups. The sex parties I've been to have been fun, laid back, open affairs, with men actually socializing more than they are sucking dick. This particular one had some nice touches--a security man at the door checking invites, another man taking clothes and putting them in white plastic bags with names written on them, a giant plywood gloryhole scaffolding, and best of all, Dr. Pepper and german chocolate cupcakes in the kitchen.)
Rey and I had had a good time at the sex party and then lingered together, showering, sharing a smoke in the kitchen, promising to get back together sometime one on one. So we made plans to meet up at his place, about twenty minutes out there, deep into suburbia, over the river and through the woods of interstates and developments.
He lived with two roommates in a large condo set anonymously among streets of identical buildings off the interestate a few stoplights. He came to the door in sandals and A&F shorts, no underwear, I quickly clocked. He was a little different then I remembered him--not chubby at all but wider, perhaps...still cute, brown skin, dark black hair that is making an early exodus from the top of his head. It was one pm.
Inside he was having some sips of wine.
The house he lived in confounded me. Three young people lived here--and from what I gathered they all had typical jobs (Rey is a waiter) yet it was a giant condo filled with nice stuff (albeit deocrated atrociously). A flat screen t.v. mounted on the wall of the living room and another GIANT t.v. in the basement den, sectional sofas, a glass-topped dining table, a computer room. I saw not a book in the house but the roommates had about five televisions between them. Candles burned everywhere. And white tigers were a constant motif, which always creeps me out. As well, there were giant, and I mean HUGE fishtanks all over the place. We're talking five feet long fishtanks. Three of them at least. Who pays for all this stuff??
We said that we had both missed each other and were glad that we could do this again, without loads of other naked dudes around. We kissed, and I remembered what a good kisser he was. Full lips, taking his time, nibbling around the edges and not diving in quickly, like dipping your feet in the pond first.
We went up to his room. Sarah MacLaughlin was playing on the stereo(???). We kissed a lot and undressed and rolled around, cocks rubbing. I slipped off his shorts, which I find so incredibly erotic--slipping off someone's clothes I mean. He sat his butt down on my dick and rubbed it a lot, which feels great.
We had sex, good sex, a nice alchemy between us. You know, when you are hard as a rock but yet in no hurry to cum. That's a rare combination for me...either I'm rock hard and quick to shoot off the gun or it's a bit of an effort to keep the corpus cavernosa filled to the brim.
In any case, we did it a lot, in many different positions, and he made the most beautiful noises.
After we were done we took a shower and then just laid around in his room kinda napping. He had hung sheets over his window so even though it was a brilliantly sunny out and nice we were in the dark, which I liked. He took out some cocoa butter and we rubbed it all over ourselves; he said it was a nice lotion and I said it made me want to eat his butt again. We had more languished sex, just sucking each other and kissing, and then took another shower.
We headed out into the suburban strip malls to look for some place to have a meal, and ended up at a chain sports bar...it was either that or Red Lobster. Alas, we forgot it was St. Patrick's day, and at five pm the place was full of plastic green hats. We sat in the bar, smoking and talking, his scent still on my fingers.
He's a sweet boy and we connect sexually but there wasn't much in common between us. He's originally from Texas, would like to work eventually in community health, working with the Latino population, but right now he works in the restaurant in a department store. He doesn't have a car so is stuck in the suburbs a lot.
He owns a lot of ani di franco cds.
His friends think he's a slut and that makes him sad.
He's been crying a lot for no reason, sometimes on the bus on his way to work.
We had a few drinks and I dropped him back off at home and went back to the inner city and took a long nap. When I woke up he had sent me an email saying he has a highchool crush on me but he's going to leave it at that.
Yesterday I am happy to say that I've been able to eliminate one of the three boys from my life, which will certainly mean more free time for me. This guy has been after me for awhile but I've always hedged a bit...I'm not sure why. He's twenty-four and lives in my neighborhood. He's messaged me all over the place online and I've seen his webcam and blah blah blah. Finally I decided I had to just do it with him and get it over with.
I didn't really enjoy it. He's got a strange looking face, I have to say. I'm not sure what it is...it's not his teeth, which I admit could use some filing, or his scruff, which gave my lips rug burn...it's his eyes. I'm pretty sure he was sober but yet his eyes seem wide-eyed, puppy-dog, dialted fully...that kind of a gaze makes me uncomfortable, like I'm being x-rayed.
We didn't do much. While he was going down on me I laid back in bed and thought about how much I wanted some eggs benedict. That is always a bad sign.
After we were done I think he wanted to hang around a bit, cuddle or talk, get to know each other. But I kicked him out and drove to this diner I love and sat at the counter and had some delicious eggs benedict. It was the highlight of my day.
Then there is the suburban boy. I like the suburban boy. He calls me a lot from a gay coffeeshop that's nearby, only a few blocks. He'll be bored, surfing on manhunt using the cafe's wifi, working on his myspace page, and horny. I've been learning things about him.
At first, he appeared to be a wonderfully fascinating dichotomy...plain old suburban highschool boy, obsessed with hair and a&f clothes, thinking about college, with a good group of friends, while at the same time a sexually precocious boy who knew what he wanted--men to fuck him.
It's more complicated than that now, as I've found out that he has dated a string of men MUCH older than him since the age of 15...and these men have not treated him all that well.
He appears to attract men in their mid to late thirties who are alcoholics, violent meth users, fucked up in some way...funny enough, those would tend to be the same kind of men who are attracted to sixteen year old boys.
He's eighteen now and has some stories to tell. I'm worried that his worldview has already been formed: that most gay men of a certain age are fucked up alcoholics struggling with sobriety and normal human relations.
Suburban boy told me how the last guy he was 'into' got them a room together at a sleazy gay hotel that rents by the hour only to binge on meth.
Suburban boy tells me how he regularly gives himself enemas.
Suburban boy recently had gonnorrhea.
It's all very intriguing. We're playing it safe and I'm being honest about what his expectations should be with me. He's just been accepted to go to school in San Diego, so, whew! The gay community there is so respectable...I'm sure he'll be fine. Yikes. I'll see him in a Cobra video within the year I'm sure.
That's a slice of my life.
Which is not to say I haven't had my share of play before; I have. Even in my chubby frosh days when, straight off the farm, I had neither the gumption nor wherewithall to update my wardrobe, get a real haircut, and make my mark in the club, I still had boys after my affections.
But I have three right now, three boys messaging me online, calling me, emailing me. Do me. No, do me first. Do ME!
It's quite exciting and a nice boost to my ego.
I guess I've filled a particular niche. I have some things going for me. Devastating scruff. Nice eyes. One of the few men out there over 24 with a normal BMI, a nice patch of curly chest hair, some definition.
I have to say I am quite enjoying myself...and to be honest, my schedule this weekend has been demanding and almost exhausting.
I had Friday off from work, and so I slept in a bit, thinking I'd wake up, do some writing, clean a bit, catch up on some netflix discs.
Instead I get an email from Rey saying that he, too, has the day off.
I met Rey, a 23 year old, at a sex party a few weeks ago.
(I must diverge here slightly to exposit a minute on a topic near and dear to my heart--sex parties. It warms my heart that they happen in this city, even if I am not there to partake. I live in a place where gay sex is compartamentalized from gay social circles...it's sublimated, hidden, lied about even, and the result are men who are two-faced, hypocritical. Men here are sluts--and in a good way--but they aren't honest about it. They don't celebrate it. They squirrel it away and rely on gay.com hookups. The sex parties I've been to have been fun, laid back, open affairs, with men actually socializing more than they are sucking dick. This particular one had some nice touches--a security man at the door checking invites, another man taking clothes and putting them in white plastic bags with names written on them, a giant plywood gloryhole scaffolding, and best of all, Dr. Pepper and german chocolate cupcakes in the kitchen.)
Rey and I had had a good time at the sex party and then lingered together, showering, sharing a smoke in the kitchen, promising to get back together sometime one on one. So we made plans to meet up at his place, about twenty minutes out there, deep into suburbia, over the river and through the woods of interstates and developments.
He lived with two roommates in a large condo set anonymously among streets of identical buildings off the interestate a few stoplights. He came to the door in sandals and A&F shorts, no underwear, I quickly clocked. He was a little different then I remembered him--not chubby at all but wider, perhaps...still cute, brown skin, dark black hair that is making an early exodus from the top of his head. It was one pm.
Inside he was having some sips of wine.
The house he lived in confounded me. Three young people lived here--and from what I gathered they all had typical jobs (Rey is a waiter) yet it was a giant condo filled with nice stuff (albeit deocrated atrociously). A flat screen t.v. mounted on the wall of the living room and another GIANT t.v. in the basement den, sectional sofas, a glass-topped dining table, a computer room. I saw not a book in the house but the roommates had about five televisions between them. Candles burned everywhere. And white tigers were a constant motif, which always creeps me out. As well, there were giant, and I mean HUGE fishtanks all over the place. We're talking five feet long fishtanks. Three of them at least. Who pays for all this stuff??
We said that we had both missed each other and were glad that we could do this again, without loads of other naked dudes around. We kissed, and I remembered what a good kisser he was. Full lips, taking his time, nibbling around the edges and not diving in quickly, like dipping your feet in the pond first.
We went up to his room. Sarah MacLaughlin was playing on the stereo(???). We kissed a lot and undressed and rolled around, cocks rubbing. I slipped off his shorts, which I find so incredibly erotic--slipping off someone's clothes I mean. He sat his butt down on my dick and rubbed it a lot, which feels great.
We had sex, good sex, a nice alchemy between us. You know, when you are hard as a rock but yet in no hurry to cum. That's a rare combination for me...either I'm rock hard and quick to shoot off the gun or it's a bit of an effort to keep the corpus cavernosa filled to the brim.
In any case, we did it a lot, in many different positions, and he made the most beautiful noises.
After we were done we took a shower and then just laid around in his room kinda napping. He had hung sheets over his window so even though it was a brilliantly sunny out and nice we were in the dark, which I liked. He took out some cocoa butter and we rubbed it all over ourselves; he said it was a nice lotion and I said it made me want to eat his butt again. We had more languished sex, just sucking each other and kissing, and then took another shower.
We headed out into the suburban strip malls to look for some place to have a meal, and ended up at a chain sports bar...it was either that or Red Lobster. Alas, we forgot it was St. Patrick's day, and at five pm the place was full of plastic green hats. We sat in the bar, smoking and talking, his scent still on my fingers.
He's a sweet boy and we connect sexually but there wasn't much in common between us. He's originally from Texas, would like to work eventually in community health, working with the Latino population, but right now he works in the restaurant in a department store. He doesn't have a car so is stuck in the suburbs a lot.
He owns a lot of ani di franco cds.
His friends think he's a slut and that makes him sad.
He's been crying a lot for no reason, sometimes on the bus on his way to work.
We had a few drinks and I dropped him back off at home and went back to the inner city and took a long nap. When I woke up he had sent me an email saying he has a highchool crush on me but he's going to leave it at that.
Yesterday I am happy to say that I've been able to eliminate one of the three boys from my life, which will certainly mean more free time for me. This guy has been after me for awhile but I've always hedged a bit...I'm not sure why. He's twenty-four and lives in my neighborhood. He's messaged me all over the place online and I've seen his webcam and blah blah blah. Finally I decided I had to just do it with him and get it over with.
I didn't really enjoy it. He's got a strange looking face, I have to say. I'm not sure what it is...it's not his teeth, which I admit could use some filing, or his scruff, which gave my lips rug burn...it's his eyes. I'm pretty sure he was sober but yet his eyes seem wide-eyed, puppy-dog, dialted fully...that kind of a gaze makes me uncomfortable, like I'm being x-rayed.
We didn't do much. While he was going down on me I laid back in bed and thought about how much I wanted some eggs benedict. That is always a bad sign.
After we were done I think he wanted to hang around a bit, cuddle or talk, get to know each other. But I kicked him out and drove to this diner I love and sat at the counter and had some delicious eggs benedict. It was the highlight of my day.
Then there is the suburban boy. I like the suburban boy. He calls me a lot from a gay coffeeshop that's nearby, only a few blocks. He'll be bored, surfing on manhunt using the cafe's wifi, working on his myspace page, and horny. I've been learning things about him.
At first, he appeared to be a wonderfully fascinating dichotomy...plain old suburban highschool boy, obsessed with hair and a&f clothes, thinking about college, with a good group of friends, while at the same time a sexually precocious boy who knew what he wanted--men to fuck him.
It's more complicated than that now, as I've found out that he has dated a string of men MUCH older than him since the age of 15...and these men have not treated him all that well.
He appears to attract men in their mid to late thirties who are alcoholics, violent meth users, fucked up in some way...funny enough, those would tend to be the same kind of men who are attracted to sixteen year old boys.
He's eighteen now and has some stories to tell. I'm worried that his worldview has already been formed: that most gay men of a certain age are fucked up alcoholics struggling with sobriety and normal human relations.
Suburban boy told me how the last guy he was 'into' got them a room together at a sleazy gay hotel that rents by the hour only to binge on meth.
Suburban boy tells me how he regularly gives himself enemas.
Suburban boy recently had gonnorrhea.
It's all very intriguing. We're playing it safe and I'm being honest about what his expectations should be with me. He's just been accepted to go to school in San Diego, so, whew! The gay community there is so respectable...I'm sure he'll be fine. Yikes. I'll see him in a Cobra video within the year I'm sure.
That's a slice of my life.
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