Long Times Between Drinks

I think I once saw most of The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Daniel Day-Lewis, looking as yummy as ever) on TV, but I mostly remember reading it when it first came out in The New Yorker. That must have been a long time ago. B&c bought me the 8-DVD set that has eighty years of the magazine, so I could go and look it up, or I could search for the publication date online, but doing so would probably just make me feel older than I am. [For future reference, when I say that I would search for something online if I weren't too lazy, I almost always do search for it, about five minutes later. But in this case, I'm really not finding it. I'm almost certain that I read it in TNY sometime in the 80s, though.]

Anyway. If memory serves, the main character [Tomas. Thanks, Google!] of TULoB was a big-time womanizer (chacun à son goût, I reckon) who had a limited tolerance for sleeping with the same woman. He would either have sex with a woman a number of times, then never see her again, or have sex with a woman perhaps once a month, in which case he could continue to see her indefinitely.

Tomas' emotional make up is nothing like my own. I suppose it's because I have b&c at home, but I can fuck a guy any number of times and only want more. I can have dinner with the same guy, and he can come to dinner with b&c and me, and I'm still cool. And I'm not cool because I'm an unemotional bastard who cares about no one. I just don't mind a modest amount of emotional entanglement. Since I already have a primary emotional and sexual relationship that I'm pretty secure in, I'm unlikely to develop an unhealthy level of attachment. But if you're hooking up with me and you develop a little crush on me, I'm not seeing a problem, and I may return the favor.

I realize that since I have a partner, if the other guy doesn't, then the situation isn't necessarily symmetric, but the other guy's always fully informed, and I tend to be interested only in men with the emotional maturity necessary to handle the arrangement and/or the sense to walk away from it if and when it isn't working for them. Besides, I'm busy, and they're busy. Nobody's got time to sit around becoming all I-won't-be-ignored about anyone else. In other words, as I've said on a couple of occasions to b&c, almost every time I have good sex with someone, I'd be happy if he became my best friend, fell in love with me (while still respecting my relationship, natch), bought me a nice car, and put me in his will. None of that really ever happens. Well, ok, maybe the best friend part, but I'm not in anybody's will, except my parents'. I'm not even in the will of my very good friend J., who has tons of money and no real heirs. For years, I've been trying to get him to leave me his sofa, but to no avail. I used to sleep on that sofa all the time, and it was damned comfortable. But no luck so far.

Anyway. If I fuck a guy only intermittently, it's usually because our schedules never match up, and there have been a number of guys over the past five or six years with whom I've had sex every couple of months or so. Most of these people were FWPs, or friends with privileges, which is really what I'm hoping for every time I have sex with a nice guy. It's not something I expect: the FWP relationship is difficult to maintain. Typically the guy will be single, and then suddenly he'll have a bf, and the bf won't want him fucking around with anyone else. Selfish prick. It's mildly depressing when one of your FWPs becomes a FWOP (or, in extreme circumstances, stops interacting with you altogether, though when that happens, you probably really had a fuckbuddy, not a FWP), kind of like when something bad happens to your favorite pair of shoes. But it's nothing like a tragedy: you just get new shoes.

Though there are exceptions. Two years ago, I invited my two favorite FWPs (I'd been fucking each of them for over a year) to our holiday party, and they started dating, and then they became a monogamous couple. And did I get so much as a thank you note for having brought them together? NO. I DID NOT. And, really, that would not have been sufficient. I sincerely believe that, under the circumstances, the appropriate way to express gratitude would have been to invite me to a three-way. That would have been very hot, and the "top" in that relationship would have had one more chance to feel my cock up his ass, which he loved. He was Indian (but with a British accent, YUM) and compact and solid and hairy, but he had a pretty small cock. Still, the other guy (sweeter and younger and probably the best cocksucker in Montgomery County) was probably just as happy only taking a small cock. It would take me forever to squeeze into his ass, and he never came until I pulled out and chewed hard on his nipples, anyway. They both had fat lips, and they knew how to use them, too. Sigh. We still hang out from time to time, but to be honest, they're less fun now that I'm not sleeping with either of them.

Has anyone seen my train of thought? It seems to have left the station without me.

Oh yeah. So usually, it's somewhere between a couple of weeks and a couple of months between repeat visits, but sometimes it's a lot longer. I think that my personal record is four years.

Sometime late in December, b&c was up in NJ, visiting his family, and I put an ad on Craig's List. I got a response from a guy who said he was black, 28, 6'4, and 220 pounds. Yes, please! When I responded to his reply (that email address has my real name), he wrote back to say that he knew me, and that we'd hooked up about four years earlier. And I wrote back and said, "Dude." Well, what I really said was that given his stats, I was pretty sure that if he and I had hooked up (back when he'd been 24, yet), I would have remembered it. Then he wrote back with some pretty specific details about my life and said that we'd hooked up several times before he'd moved away. Then I wrote back and said "Are you sure," and he wrote back with several more details, and I thought long and hard, and I wrote back and said, "So, the last time we fucked, did we break a bed?" Bingo.

He was a little put out that it had taken me so long to remember. And with good reason because once I remembered, I remembered a lot, all of it very, very good. I was afraid that he was going to be too annoyed to come play again, but he asked, "Do you still like to eat ass as much as you did then," and I said, "More," and he was hooked.

He came over, and it was two hours of heaven. To be honest, I don't typically go for guys under thirty, though there have been notable exceptions. But 6'4, 220, black, totally smooth, and with an ass like two perfectly firm-ripe cantaloupes? Well, he asked so nicely that it would have been rude to refuse. Great lips, great kisser. Great nipples. GREAT ass. When I remarked (again) about that last, he said that he was thinking about having plastic surgery to have his buttocks reduced. I did my best to talk him out of that, and I hope I was successful. Otherwise, I might have to fly to Seattle and throw myself in front of a scalpel.

Anyway, lots of making out, lots of nipple play, and, of course, a hyperextended rimming session. And I must say that he was highly appreciative. He told me before he came over that he hadn't been fucked (i.e., that he'd been topping; unsurprisingly, he's also very nicely hung) in over a year, but that he really wanted it. He really wanted it a lot more after I was done eating his ass. He wasn't lying about not having been fucked in a while, though, and it took a lot of patience and lube to get from "stop stop stop wait" to "harder!" And worth every minute. I e-mailed him a couple of weeks after he went back to Seattle, and he wants to hook up again when he's back in town. I wouldn't be too surprised if it's another couple of years before that happens, though.

It was probably five years ago that I first fooled around with the guy I fucked last night. It was only the third time we'd gotten together, and it's probably been eighteen months or so since the last time we played, which, not coincidentally, was one of the few times that b&c and I have ever participated (together) in a threeway. In A.'s case, the long interval is due not to scheduling problems but to the fact that he's got some issues and tends to be a bit of a tool from time to time. To be fair, after the first time we messed around, I'm not sure that I even tried to have a repeat, though I likely would at least have said hello to him once or twice online. But then a few years later, I was chatting with someone who looked like fun, and he said that we'd played at his place a few years earlier, and after a few details, I knew who it was. (As long ago as high school, people whom I have not known and/or remembered have known and/or remembered me. I am always amazed when this happens, and I have the decency to be embarrassed about it.) And he was fun to chat with, so I invited him over for sex and dinner with b&c and I. That was back when we still thought that threeways might be an okay idea for us. (Another post, I reckon.) So he came over, and we had some decent, albeit somewhat brief, sex. Then we had dinner. And we invited him to our holiday party, and he came, but then he and I were supposed to go to a movie one Friday night and then head home to fuck, and he stood me up. With one of those explanations that wasn't offered until two days later and that make you say, "you're not even trying to lie convincingly, are you?"

And I really couldn't tell whether he was depressed (it seemed likely) or just didn't want to have sex with me anymore and just wanted to be friends (possible) or just didn't want anything to do with me (also possible, though unlikely), but he wasn't letting me know, and it didn't seem worth finding out. This is the sort of thing that I think about thoroughly, but without any emotional involvement. Every once in a while I'd see him online, and I'd say "wanna fuck?" just to rib him a little, but I didn't invite him to last year's holiday party, and he was off my radar screen.

But then last night, I was home alone and tired and hungry and horny, and he came on, so I said hi, and he said he'd been working, too, and he was hungry, too, and I said that I could get some takeout and come by and have sex with him, and, to my (mild) surprise, he went for it. So I called the restaurant, headed over, picked up some beer, picked up the food, and went to his place. I almost didn't recognize him because he was in a great mood, something I'd never seen from him before. Apparently, he finally got out of his horrific old job and into a great new one, and now everything's coming up roses. Or whatever.

So I had my hot and sour soup and a couple of steamed dumplings, and he had his chicken wings, then we went into the living room and sat on the sofa and watched a few minutes of Grey's Anatomy while we chatted and I stroked his hair. His short-cropped prematurely gray (he's 37) hair. Woof. To complete the picture, A. is latino and furry chested, with fat lips. I'd guess 5'11 and 185. Yum.

As soon as I started on the serious kissing, he suggested that we go upstairs. I had wanted to wait a bit because he has a history of being kind of a quick lay, but I followed him up the stairs, holding on to his very nice ass all the way. He was out of his clothes before I had a chance to remind him that removing them was really my job, so I pushed him down on the bed, got on top of him, and started in with the more serious kissing.

I think that A. is technically versatile. Or at least when he was at one of our parties, he recognized another of the guests (PJ), and when I asked PJ how he knew A., he said that they'd hooked up and that A. had fucked him. Then I asked him how it had been, and he said that A. came too quickly. I know from personal experience that about five minutes of hard thrusting will push PJ over the edge (and you never get any warning; he shouts out "I'm cumming!" only after he's begun shouting, and his moans don't really escalate prior to that), so I infer that A. came so quickly that PJ didn't get off.

Anyway. The point is that I'd never actually fucked A. before. The first time we'd played, he said he'd only get fucked if I'd also let him fuck me. And when we had the threeway, I wasn't 100% confident about his anal hygiene, and, in any case, b&c kind of hopped on my cock and monopolized it. But I'd had him pinned down on the bed for only a couple of minutes of skilled kissing last night when he started saying "Fuck me, Ted." I told him, as I tell most men, "Oh, I will. In good time," and I went back to kissing him. If A. has a physical flaw, it's his nipples. They're tiny, and they're not very responsive, which is a shame because pronounced, sensitive nipples in the middle of a hairy chest are what living is all about. So since I couldn't really give his nipples any serious oral gratification, I spent about five minutes going down on his ears. At that point he was really begging me to fuck him, and it had become pretty clear that he wasn't interested in much else, so I told him to glove me up. After he got the condom on me and handed me the bottle of lube, I pushed him onto his stomach, worked some lube into his (clean, thankfully) asshole, and put some on the rubber. Then I lay down on him so that my cock was wedged into his asscrack, and I started working on his ears again. I slid my cock down so that the head was up against his hole, and I pushed. He told me he needed me to go slow, so I did. He was very tight indeed, so it took a while to get into him, though I think that continuing to suck on his ears helped matters along.

After maybe ten minutes, I was able to thrust freely, and he got very loud with the "Fuck me!"s. I'm usually a (very) slow shooter, but he was so tight and working me so well that in a surprisingly short period of time (less than ten minutes from when he loosened up enough to let me plow hard), I was having trouble holding back. He had been fucked into his happy place and was panting and enjoying. I slowed down a couple of times, but then I couldn't hold back, and by the time I pulled out and took the condom off, the semen had begun to flow. Still, there was plenty left to spill a healthy load over his back.

I flipped him over and started stroking and kissing him. He asked me to finger him, so I did, and he began stroking himself and shot his load in about a minute. We lay there for a couple of minutes, then wiped up, and then we spent about another half hour chatting with his head on my chest. It was nice. I imagine that we'll socialize and fuck again.

To be honest, though, while it's gratifying to know that I can find plenty of decent sex without an indecent amount of effort, I'll be glad when b&c gets back and I don't have quite so much opportunity to play around. The variety has been really nice, but the cheeseburgers are starting to get to me.