My So-Called Stalker

I don't mean to make light of stalking: I'm sure that some of you (because I know that some of my readers are young and cute, and, of course, you're ALL fabulous) have probably had real stalkers who've caused you real problems. All I've got is some weird-o Texan who calls me every day, forcing me to open my desk drawer and press "Silence" on my cell phone. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it's an ancient cell phone (three years old, I reckon), and the battery runs down pretty quickly, so, um, yeah, so it's not really much of a problem, is it?

The whole incident started innocently enough. B&c was out of town somewhere (NYC, maybe, or Denver, I can't really remember) and I'd already jerked off a couple of times that morning, so I wanted something a little more than that, but I wasn't really in the mood to deal with a full-blown (so to speak) hook up, so I hopped on ye olde gay.com and looked for some phone sex.

I'm aware that phone sex isn't for everyone, but I have a long history with it. Back in the days when I was still married (though no longer having sex with my wife) it was how I made my first tentative forays into the world of m2m eroticism. And before I ever met the first man I fell in love with (I really must start calling him TFMIFILW, except that I don't have all that much more to say about him) in person, he and I would spend a lot of time on the phone, and during some of that time, we'd both be naked and, eventually, covered in cum. Or, at least, I was generally naked. Unbeknownst to me, TFMIFILW was still living with his wife, so he'd sometimes call me on his cell from his car. He'd cum in his jeans, while still driving. That was awesome.

Over time, I acquired and developed other outlets for sexual expression, and phone sex became a rare experience. But every once in a while it seems like the path of least resistance, and I'll talk to a few guys on the phone. It usually takes a few because with a lot of guys I only have to talk about shoving them up against the wall and kissing them hard and forcing them down on their knees, and they've shot before I've even shoved my virtual cock in their virtual mouth and then the line goes dead and because it's a cell phone, I don't even know right away that they've hung up, and I feel silly for a moment, but then I go back to the computer, and there are a couple more guys wanting me to call them and tell them that I'm going to leave their nipples sore for a week. (This, of course, is a total exaggeration, because even when I chew hard on a guy's nipples for an extended period of time, he's usually right as rain in three or four days. Five days, tops.)

So anyway, I chat for a bit with this guy from Austin, and he calls, and he's pretty good. He's no pushover, and he talks a good game about wanting to top me before I flip him and eat his ass and then pound him long and hard until we both come at the exact same time. I mean, none of that actually happens, of course. What really happens is that we both lie on our beds and jerk off while I provide a compelling narrative and he plays along, and then the porn that I'm watching on mute gets to a really hot part, and I shoot a nice big load while keeping my voice relatively level so that I can pretend to be cumming when I hear that he's either cumming or pretending to be cumming. But still, it's a lot of fun, and I end up covered with cum, and when he says that he wants to do it again, I tell him to look for me online, and we'll play some more. But he means he wants to do it again right then, and he starts asking me a lot of questions about guys I've fucked and about my partner and all that, and it's kind of hot because he has this delicious Texas redneckish accent that I just love. (I love all accents, but I especially love whatever accent I'm hearing at the moment the twangy ones.) So I give him some more of my time and I pump out another load, and I tell him he can email me if he wants to keep in touch, and then I get up and take a shower and go do some errands. (It was long enough ago that I had time to do errands, so that means January, which probably means that b&c was in NYC, not that it matters.)

So the next day, I'm at the office, and my phone rings with a number that I don't recognize, and I pick it up and say hello, and it's AustinBoy, and he wants to play. I tell him it's not a good time and say I can call him back after 5, but he says he'll call me. Then, when I'm in the car, on the way to pick up the kids, the phone rings, and it says "Private Number," and I pick it up, and it's AB again, and now he REALLY wants to play. I'm driving, and I've never been very good at having sex while I'm driving, but I figure I can put the conversation on auto-pilot and he can have a good time. So we talk about baseball and the weather erections for a while, and he keeps trying to say that he wants me to sit on his erection, and I keep telling him that I'd flip him over and make him squeal like a stuffed pig (one that's still alive, presumably; God knows where I come up with these similes, but it seemed appropriate at the time, and AB didn't complain) and so on and so forth.

As it happens, phone sex is the only area where I'm semi-versatile. And by "semi-versatile," I mean that every once in a great while, I'll pretend to be the bottom, which, as it happens, is relatively enjoyable for me if I'm pretending so that I don't actually have to fit a cock up my ass. I don't do it often, though, because it's mostly enjoyable as a novelty. Besides, if I'm phone bottoming, I end up screaming a lot (it's easier than making up descriptions of how good it feels), and it's bad for my voice.

But I had no interest whatsoever in phone versatility with AB, so I got him off as quickly as possible and then I hung up and went home and had some real sex.

That was the last time I said more than three words to AB, but it was certainly not the last time he called me. Lately, it's only been once or twice a day, but for the first few weeks, he was calling (and I was not answering) multiple times a day. People would hear the phone ring and ask me why I wasn't answering, and I'd either say "Oh, it's just my stalker" (if it was b&c asking) or I'd explain that I don't answer when the phone says "private number." "But what if it's important?" Well, they'd leave a message, wouldn't they? AB has left precisely two messages. The first one was about a month after the last time we talked, and it just said that he wanted to play again. The second one was about a week after that, and he said, "Hey. It looks like I'm pregnant. We need to figure out what we're going to do about that." At least he has a sense of humor.

In general, I don't believe that you have no obligation of politeness to someone you've tricked with. If the guy emails you and says he wants you to fuck him again, it's kinder and easier (in the long run) to email him back and say that you aren't interested. But someone you've talked with on the phone twice and gotten off three times really shouldn't expect some sort of continuing relationship. I mean, I know I'm amazing on the phone, but come on. Am I the only rich-voiced, articulate, incredibly sexy bass top out there? And even if I am, wouldn't six or more weeks of my not answering your calls make you stop trying? Or at least try something different? AB has my email address, after all. (But not my real name, home phone, or physical address, thank God. Then it might not be funny.)

Maybe it would be easier if I'd just pick up the phone once and say, "Dude. What the fuck? Stop calling me," but he almost always calls when I'm at work (partly because I'm almost always at work, but he tends to call around the same time every day, and I suspect that's when he's on the way home from his job to his wife and/or partner and/or dungeon full of phone sex operators) or when someone else is around, and I just don't feel like dealing with it. Besides, he really does know how to work the twang, and if I talk to him, I might end up giving him what he wants, and then I'd have to change my phone number to get rid of him.

Or continue to have phone sex with him on a regular basis. And that way lies madness. Before you know it, he'd want a phone-commitment, and I wouldn't be able to phone-fuck other men. Then he'd want us to be phone-partners, or, worse, phone-married. And while I certainly support equal phone-marriage rights for all people, I just don't know the etiquette. I presume that you send out an evite, but where do you register?

Modern life, eh?