The Right Guy

I was feeling not so great on Monday morning, so I called in sick. It's a relatively slow time of year at the office, so the bar on what constitutes sick is significantly lowered. All I was really suffering from was a lack of sleep brought on by allergies, and after an extra couple of hours in bed, I was ready to get up and tackle the list of chores that need to be accomplished so that when b&c returns from his consulting gig in Jordan (where, he informed me yesterday, he has bottomed for at least one Jordanian top every night but one: he is so going into quarantine when he gets home) he doesn't start foaming at the mouth (note to self: check incidence of rabies in middle eastern countries and whether butt sex is a common transmission vector) about how awful the house looks.

But then I checked my email, and I hopped oh-so-briefly onto gay.com, and I was immediately hit up by a mid-thirties black guy from Rockville who chats me up every time he sees me online, though we never actually connect. This time, the conversation went something like:

Rockvilleguy: ru home today?
Ted: Yes.
R: do u want to eat my ass? I want to be submissive
T: Does that mean no making out?
R: define making out
T: Kissing.
R: only kiss when its exclusive
T: Well, there would only be the two of us here, so it would be kind of exclusive.
R: r u ok with my limits?
T: I'm not even sure what the limits are.
R: I dont bottom. I dont suck cock.
T: And you don't kiss?
R: only with a boyfriend
T: But you're submissive, right? I'm going to pass.
R: I thought u would. what do u want?
T: We can make out some, and then you can go down on me while I eat your ass.
R: ok on the kissing, but Ive never sucked cock
T: Then it's time for you to learn.

And that was the end of him. I reckon that in another two or three conversations, he'll agree to all of my conditions. Or not, and I don't really care which. He's got awesome stats, but I'd guess that he's very unskilled in everything I like to do.

Anyway, I saw another guy who's attracted my notice before. Mid-forties, fit, about 5'9, naturally smooth, and with a nice looking ass. He's also local. His profile says that he loves kissing, and that he's mostly a top, but that he'll bottom for the right guy. Plus, he's local, so saying hello seemed the neighborly thing to do.

Ted: Good morning.
StudCub: Hi.
T: How's it going?
SC: Good, you?
T: Great, thanks. You looking?
SC: Yeah. What are you looking to do?
T: I was thinking make out, oral, and nip play. I'm a top, but we don't have to go there.
SC: Ok. I was looking to fuck, but if you're a top, that won't work.
T: I'm perfectly happy not to do anal. I was really looking forward to eating that ass, though.
SC: If you eat my ass, then you have to fuck me.
T: That works, too.

Then he said he wasn't free until 1 and that he'd have to get back to me. Usually that means I'm being blown off, so I told him that I didn't want to hang out online for ninety minutes, so maybe we should try another time. He said that he just needed to get back to me with the exact time and said he could email me, so I gave him my address.

Do you have any idea how detrimental children are to a sex life? Not long after I'd gotten offline, I got a panicked call from EFU saying that her alarm hadn't gone off and that she needed to be at work in fifteen minutes. I told her that I couldn't even get to her mother's house in fifteen minutes, let alone get her all the way to Silver Spring. She said she knew but that if she took the bus then she wouldn't even get there by 2:30, and she'd miss her shift. I told her that she needed to deal with the situation herself. But then after I'd hung up, I felt crappy. It's true that she has problems with punctuality and that she needs to accept responsibility, but it's also true that I was mostly taking that position because if I drove her to work, I wouldn't get home until 1:30, and I'd miss my play date. So I called EFU back right away and told her I could be there to get her in twenty minutes. Dad to the rescue, at great personal cost.

(Speaking of great personal cost, did I mention that the very first college tuition bill arrived in the mail over the weekend? Egad.)

I did get back right around 1:30 and found an email ("DO YOU STILL WANT TO EAT MY ASS?") that SC had sent around 12:45. I emailed him back to explain, and then I jumped onto gay.com to see if he might have gotten back on. I had just sent him an IM when I saw a reply to my email giving his address. I told him I'd see him in twenty minutes. (Ten minutes to get ready and another ten to drive to his house.)

When I got to the street where SC lives, the house number that he'd given me wasn't there. It was a cul-de-sac, and there were houses with numbers one lower and two greater than his number. I was pretty sure that he hadn't intended to give me a bum address, and I was about to head home and ask for the right one when I saw him standing in his driveway. I parked the car and followed him inside.

As usual, I grabbed him right away and started kissing him. Mmmmmm. Soft lips, good technique, just the right amount of tongue. He was only wearing shorts, and I started playing with his nipples. The right one was pierced. Then I followed him upstairs, alternately squeezing his left and right cheeks. He removed his shorts, revealing no tan lines whatsoever. Smooth and dark all over. I pushed him down on the bed, climbed atop him, and resumed the kissing.

We went at that for fifteen minutes or so, rolling around on top of each other. His body was nice and warm, and my only difficulties were that to suck on his nipples, I had to leave off kissing him and to kiss him, I had to leave off sucking on his nipples. Eventually, I pinned him down and licked all the way down to his cock, which was about seven inches and on the thin side. Very suckable. I only sucked him for a minute, though, before kissing him some more. Then he started to go down on me. He was a skilled cocksucker: no gag reflex whatsoever. After a while, I pulled his ass around and started to eat it.

As expected, the rimming put him in his happy place. He moaned and sat up and spread his cheeks wider. I licked and poked with my tongue and I ran my hands all the way up his smooth sides and over to his nipples. He moaned some more. After a while, I tugged on his nipples to make him bend down and go down on me while I continued eating his ass. Eventually I followed up with a finger and then two. He seemed reasonably tight but not so tight that he'd likely have trouble taking me.

I pushed him off me and we kissed a bit more, and I asked him for a condom. He got one and put it on me, lubed us both up, and straddled my cock. I tried to stay very still, especially after he grimaced slightly and said, "Damn, it really is thick." He took a couple of hits of poppers and slowly began to descend around my cock, and I did my best not to thrust up until he had me all the way in.

I'd been fairly tired and a bit sore before I got to SC's place, but once we started kissing, I felt fine, and once my cock was in his ass, I was practically bursting energy. I played with his nipples while he bounced up and down on me for a while, then I unbent his legs so that I'd be deeper in him, grabbed his arms, and lowered him halfway back and began to thrust. He seemed pleased. I thrust harder. He seemed more pleased.

After a few minutes, I pushed him down onto his back and got on my knees. I pushed his knees all the way up to his head and slid back into him. He grimaced again, but only briefly, and I started to pound really hard. I took advantage of the springiness of the mattress and pushed down on his legs so that he'd bounce back up at the same time I was thrusting hard into him. I have no idea how long we fucked in that position, but I remember being amazed at how easy I was finding it and how long we'd been going, and then I remember going for a while after that. I decided to take a bit of a break, even though I wasn't tired, and I made out with him a bit more. Then I put him on his stomach and pounded him some more and then rolled him on his side and bent his top leg forward and pounded him still more.

It all seemed a bit intense for him, though he certainly didn't complain. At some point, I asked him whether he'd had too much, and he said, "Not unless you're ready to cum." It was a very nice ass to pound, and it's possible that I could actually have pumped out a load while fucking him, but I wasn't sure, and after we'd been fucking for considerably longer than I usually fuck, I pulled out again. I went to pull the condom off, but it was still hanging out of his ass. I always find that unbearably funny, so I laughed, and then we kissed some more. I played with his cock a bit, and he came erect, so I started to suck on it again, very slowly and softly, and he started getting very agitated. In a good way. As it happened, after a long fuck, he turns into the perfect cock to suck, in less than two minutes, he was right on the verge of shooting, so I started to stroke him and kiss him, and he came hard. Really hard: it looked like he was having a bad sinus headache. Well, I guess we each experience ecstasy in our own way. I asked whether he was all right, and he assured me that he was. I put one arm around his shoulder and jerked myself off with my free hand. I was pretty worked up, but it still took a long time to get myself to the brink. Then I turned on my side, put my cock next to his, and came all over his chest.

He threw me a towel and hopped right into the shower, which I took as my cue to get dressed. I was lacing up my shoes when he reappeared, smiling. He walked me downstairs, and I kissed him, thanked him, left, and got a cheeseburger. Overall, an awesome fuck, but I reckon it for a one-off. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Cherry Picking

Get your minds out of the gutter, readers. This is not a post about messing with virgins. "Cherry picking" is meant literally. I don't wish to disappoint those of my readers who come here only for the sex (men after my own heart), but there will be much content in this post about matters that are only sexual in the light of an extremely broad sense of metaphor. If you're truly impatience for the sex talk, scroll down to the picture of the guy who was in my bed Saturday night. The story's there.

After Saturday morning's romp with W. (not to be confused with Dubya, please; W. is a perfectly pleasant, and in all ways competent, person), I had scheduled an afternoon of massage, followed by an evening of debauchery. When Sunday morning rolled around, I was ready for something different. The weather was glorious, and the all too short tart cherry season had just begun, so the choice was evident. I complain, often bitterly, about living in the far out suburbs, but there are certain advantages. While on the one hand, it's a bit far for many potential massage buddies to travel, it's also only a short drive from veritable amber waves of grain. Spacious skies were also much in evidence on Sunday. I didn't notice any purple mountains' majesties, but it is possible that I was too busy eying the men on motorcycles.

[You're bored, aren't you? Perhaps this would be a good time to mention the first massage I did on Saturday. He was a mid-fifties, married African American. Maybe 5'10 and 160. Very fit, with an almost professorial white beard. I worked the standard massage, starting with the back side, and after I'd done his shoulders and back, any time I got near his ass or nuts when I was working on his lower body, he started breathing deeply and undulating, as if her were slowly fucking the table. When I oiled his crack and slid a finger inside him and found his prostate, the breathing and the undulation picked up speed and intensity. I was a little afraid that he'd lose his load before I even got to his front side, so I cut the prostate massage a little short and had him flip over.

When I got him on his back, his rather large cock was nicely filled out, and he told me that I could do as much prostate massage as I liked, but that he'd rather not have release because he needed to be able to have sex when he got back home. That was fine for me. I began an extended facial massage and then worked my way down to his shoulders and arms. And legs. By the time I got back to his nipples, he was again very worked up, and when I saw him breathe hard and lick his lips, I went in for the kiss. Oh man: a great set of lips and the know-how to use them. Wonderful deep kisses that were simultaneously soft and urgent. He grabbed his cock and started to stroke it, prompting me to cry foul, push his hand away, and stroke it myself. We made out some more, and I let go of his cock, and he repeated that he needed to save it for home, so I put him back on his stomach and worked his shoulders a bit more. He thanked me profusely, got dressed, and left. Fun, fun, fun.]

There are two pick- your-own orchards within a forty minute drive of home. The one that's closer is smaller and less well known and has, perhaps, less of a selection, but three-quarters of the drive there goes by farmland or small houses that don't look like they were placed by a carefully constructed marketing plan. As it happens, when I checked the larger orchard's website, it said that they'd lost most of their tart cherry crop to cold weather. The smaller orchard's recorded message, on the other hand, listed the picking as good.

So off I went, past fields and farms. Now that I think of it, I didn't see any ruminants; they were likely hiding from me, and who can blame them? In any case, it suddenly seemed not such an awful thing that I had been unable to sleep past 7:30 on a Sunday morning immediately following a Saturday night where the other guy hadn't left until 1 am. Not that it didn't still take me over two hours to get out the door and on the road.

Not that you know anything about central Maryland geography, but I live in Montgomery County, a place known for its vast wealth and excellent schools. And the Aspen Hill sniper, but, you know, whatever. The much smaller (but not appreciably less wealthy) county to the northeast of Montgomery is Howard County, the county where I grew up. Howard County is dominated by Columbia, a planned city that erupted out of nowhere in the mid- to late-1960s. Before Columbia, Howard County was basically a rural county with a number of bedroom communities. Now it is largely a giant bedroom community with a number of areas of farmland. I am (barely) pre-Columbian.

I mention all this because just after passing several farms in outer Montgomery County but just before I crossed into Howard County and arrived at the orchard, I passed this monstrosity. Really. Who buys a big tract of former farmland, clears it out, and plops a giant faux stone-covered McMansion in the middle of it? Actually, I didn't get close enough to be absolutely certain that the stone isn't real, but it didn't look real, and even if it is real, it isn't local stone. The house looks ridiculous on that lot, on that road, and in that setting: the physical embodiment of everything that's wrong with capitalism. Some extremely rich, soulless Republican (I know that's redundant) will be very happy there.

Anyway, I was at the farm quickly enough. It's a really great place. I may get there as many as a half-dozen times this year. Blueberries, raspberries, peaches, and apricots. Probably some apples in the fall. I don't pick blackberries there because I pick those in a wild patch, the exact location of which is a closely guarded secret. Sometimes there isn't all that much good fruit at the pick-your-own orchard, especially if the weather's been bad for a particular crop, but it's always fun to be in the fields. Maybe not so much for people who do it full time.

[Bored again, eh? The second massage wasn't as much fun as the first, but it was still a good time. This was a typical married, mid-forties suburbanite. Decent shape but with a bad haircut. I didn't get much of a reaction out of him -- except for the occasional "that feels good" -- until I slid my finger up his ass, and then he was Mr. Happy. If this guy had hit me up on gay.com, I'd have done him, but I didn't feel like kissing him for some reason. But when I finally got around to stroking him off, he came so hard that he hit his chin. Lots of volume, too. Another happy (non-paying) customer.]

Anyway, I drove past the farmstand and back to the cherry orchard. I'd brought my own bucket. They'll give you a bag in the field, but the bags only hold about five pounds of cherries, and why bother picking cherries if you're not going to pick too many? Any that don't get made into jam or pies will freeze very well. Besides, once you get started, it's pretty hard to stop, especially once you've found a tree where the fruit is ripe and plentiful.

[The third massage bordered on unpleasant. I massage pretty much anyone who isn't dangerous, but the last guy was so fat that he couldn't comfortably lie his head on the headrest. When he was on his stomach, I had to give him a pillow. And then, when I was working on his ass, I thought I smelled something, and when I spread his cheeks, I saw a bit of poo. Egad. No prostate massage for him. When I had him on his back, he kept stroking my arms and making noises about how he really felt like he should reciprocate. No, thanks. Still, though, when I was stroking him off, I got wood. I kept it pressed against the table so he couldn't feel it, though. I had him out in under forty minutes. He didn't seem to notice and was very grateful.]

Once you get started picking cherries, it's really hard to stop. I had maybe an inch in the bottom of my bucket when I decided that I'd count the rest of the cherries I picked. I stopped right around 900 because I thought I had well over ten pounds. It turns out I only had about 9.5 pounds (about five pies' worth), but the very nice young woman at the register still charged me the lower per pound price that you get when you pick ten or more pounds. I think it took me a little under an hour to pick all the cherries.

When I got home, it took me about forty minutes to stone them all. I actually own a cherry stoner. I suppose that if someone ever gave me a joint, I'd be a cherry stoner, and I amused myself greatly (I am very easily amused) when I was finished by saying, "Duuuuude! These cherries are stoned!"

Here's a picture of the backside of Saturday's late night hookup. (I didn't take the pic, and that's not my bed. It's one of the pics he sent me, but I examined it and him, and they're the same person.) I was supposed to have a Saturday mid-evening hookup as well, but I had forgotten to email the guy my address. I didn't realize this until it was 8 and he wasn't here and I went to see whether he'd emailed again. Oops. I feel bad because he may have thought I flaked on him, but I really didn't. I was looking forward to pounding his ass, and I'd even bought and laundered more sheets for the bed; I do go through a lot of linens these days. Still, I had the 10:30 appointment with C. (yet another C.; what the fuck is it with that letter?) that I was looking forward to both more and less. More because he's a hot Taiwanese guy who loves nipple play. Less because he'd said he probably wouldn't kiss me until our second hook up. Men, right?

Anyway, C. arrived promptly at 10:30 and asked to be showed upstairs. He's something of a nudist, so he promptly removed all his clothing and jumped on the bed. I went right for his nipples. The man is a solid 9 on the nipple scale. I pulled and I twisted and I pinched and I bit. I bit hard. He ate it all up. In fact, he ate it up so much that after five minutes of hard nipple play, I went to kiss him, and he had forgotten about his rule. Nice lips, pretty good technique. After making out and tugging his nips for a while, I went back to biting his nipples, with even more intensity, and he totally went nuts. After another fifteen minutes of nipple work, he told me he was going to cum, even though I hadn't touched his cock. I thought it was hyperbole, but, no, he shot. Minor volume, and a tiny cock, but who cares, really?

C. had told me that he does multiple orgasms, but he was tired, so I told him he could nap if he like, and then I dove into his ass, which may have inhibited napping. He'd said before he arrived that he loved being rimmed, and he had not lied. I ate his ass thoroughly and hungrily, and then I had him sit on my face, and he stroked my cock while I ate his ass some more. Eventually, I slid a finger in, and that got him really riled up. When I stopped for a short break, he told me that he had meant to nap earlier in the day but hadn't and that he was going to call it a night because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to drive later. Translation: he wasn't going to be able to get it up again.

Somehow it had gotten to be 1:00. I have no idea where the time went, but it sure didn't go into him sucking or sitting on my cock. Anyway, he left. He said he wanted to play again soon, but I don't think he meant it. He calls himself a bottom, but I didn't see any evidence. Maybe he wants me to be more forceful, but as much as he loved having a finger in his ass, he's probably way too tight to take my whole cock. Besides, he's kind of selfish in the sack. Maybe he was just tired. He does, after all, push almost all my buttons, and I would love to fuck him for hours. I'll probably follow up with him, but I won't expect anything, and I won't really mind if nothing comes to fruition.

Back in the Saddle

After Thursday evening's multiple disappointments, I was tempted to lie low for a while. You know, I like that last sentence, but it's such a lie. Let's try again:

After Thursday evening's multiple disappointments, I might have been tempted to lie low for a while. Hmmm. There's still something not quite right. I think it's the subject of the independent clause. One more time!

After Thursday evening's multiple disappointments, someone else whose psychological make-up in no way, shape, or form resembles my own might have been tempted to lie low for a while. Well, now it's true, but it's awkward. The truth is awkward. The lie is elegant. I leave the choice to you.

Anyway, lying low, even had it been an option, would not have been an option because I had plans to hang out with C., my FWP from down the street a piece. I'd emailed him proposing "a drink, a romp, dinner, a movie, or any combination of the above." He replied, with typical succinctness, that he would keep the evening free for whatever.

I stopped at the TJ's near my office and picked up goat cheese, hummus, sesame thins, and mini pitas so that we'd have a nosh, then I came home and jumped in the shower. I was thoroughly soapy when the phone rang. It was C., sounding kind of tense, saying he'd just gotten home and that he could be over in about half an hour. I finished showering, dried, dressed, answered some email (other irons in the fire for other days), set out the noshes, chilled the martini glasses, and played some seal bounce (at yetisports.org: highly addictive) while I waited for him to show up. He took a little longer than expected, but I greeted him at the door with the usual ninety seconds of lip lock. He was in a much better mood after that. I got the gin out of the freezer, put the olives on the toothpicks, and poured the martinis. Then we sat on the couch and chatted for a while and nibbled. The food, that is, not each other (not yet). I had an arm around his shoulder and was very lightly rubbing along his shoulder blade, which he likes very, very much. Somehow, before long, he was straddling me, and we were making out with some urgency. So I took him upstairs.

I can't say how much I love having a top FWP. If I run into a bottom who wants two tops (This happens more often than you might think. Or perhaps just as often as you might think, depending on how you think.), I have someone to go to. And when it's just the two of us, there's never any question of anal sex. Now don't get me wrong. I love topping. And I love ass, generally. Mmmmmm, ass. But anal sex is something of a production, and on occasion it is very refreshing to be going at it full force without feeling like the ass fucking is the final destination of sex. There's more concentration on the kissing. And, with C. and me, more concentration on the nipple play and on all things oral.

We wisely didn't decide what we were doing for the rest of the evening before we got nakedly horizontal, so after the initial ferocity, I took my time on his nipples. I have found that men who are pleased by but not enthusiastic about nipple play can be made into enthusiasts by prolonged tongue work. I took C.'s right nipple in between my lips and began flicking my tongue rapidly back and forth across the nib. The key is always endurance. Unless a guy's nipples are dead (like mine: requiescat in pace), the flicking will eventually elicit a new level of response. In ideal cases, the response can elevate all the way to orgasm. C. didn't cum from my nipple work, but he got significantly louder and more agitated, and when I then traced my tongue up to and along his collarbone and neck, he was ecstatic.

After that, I went down on him for a while. I've been making an effort to improve my skills as a cocksucker. It seems only fair since I'm not willing to take it up the ass, and on the off chance that I'm ever in Dupont Circle or some place and someone yells "cocksucker!" at me, I want to feel like I've earned the epithet. Apparently I'm getting better, though I still didn't bring him off that way. My guess is that C. gets off pretty much only by hand or when he's buried in some bottom's ass. In any case, we were both enjoying ourselves mightily, and after another half hour of back and forth between nipple play, oral both ways, and then sixty-nine, we made out while he stroked himself off. Due to whatever combination of fatigue and poor diet (during the day, I'd had breakfast and no lunch and four donuts, and I think I was crashing from a severe sugar high: whatever), I was still hard but not close enough to ejaculation to make jerking off worth the effort. After he came, we cuddled for another twenty minutes, then cleaned off, dressed, and finished our martinis.

We decided to get dinner and then catch a movie over at the Rio entertainment complex in Gaithersburg. For many years, Rio was no big deal, but now it's a pretty hopping place on Saturday night. My initial plan for dinner was a pho place not far away, but it closed at 8 (fucking suburbs), so we had dinner at the bar of one of the restaurants at Rio instead. I had a Bass ale and some sort of composed salad that included chicken. Then we saw Knocked Up, which made me laugh until I cried. I think C. might have preferred Oceans Thirteen on the basis of superior eye candy, but he wouldn't actually come out and say that, and, in the end, he was happy with Knocked Up and Paul Rudd. The last time I chose a movie based on eye candy, I ended up sitting through Alexander, and I was bitterly disappointed on many fronts.

We drove home and said goodnight, and I was in bed by 2. The phone rang at 8:30. It was W. (hurray! a new initial!), a married guy who'd answered my CL ad earlier this week. I'd told him Saturday morning would be good and that he could call me relatively early. I told him I had to jump in the shower, and that he could show up any time after 9. I made the usual preparation (a quick spray of Febreze; picking up the dirty laundry; hiding the bloody axes) and jumped in the shower. W. had replied to my ad by saying "Did you find your guy yet?" to which I'd replied "You mean I only get one? Damn! Tell me more about you. If tonight doesn't work out, there are always other times." And he'd replied:

HI, 6ft 198 48 attractive mwm submissive cool laidback guy am married so
cant send pic over net but promise I am attractive and like your sensce of
humor. I know you dont like a lot of emails so I will talk fast. I am ddf
also if you are clean ddf and dominant I can come by today I am in the
Rockville area

What? I'm supposed to resist a guy who compliments my sense of humor just because he can't type and has no picture? As if!

Anyway, W. showed up at about 9:15, and he was exactly as promised. Well, you know, he might have been 5'11 instead of 6', and he really seemed more like 180 or even 175 than 198 to me, but attractive? Hell yes. Longish gray hair and fit. I backed him up against the wall and started kissing him. He said, "I've never kissed a guy before," but since he didn't say he didn't want to kiss and since he'd let me kiss him, I kept it up. Then I pushed him up the stairs, saying "nice tush" as I felt it up. Turns out he's a marathoner.

W. is a submissive of the very quiet and inexperienced variety. I really should learn to be more verbal with those guys, but I got other stuff on my mind than talking. He said "What do you want me to do?" and I said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." I pulled his shirt off and shoved him backwards onto the bed, climbed on top and started kissing him again. Then I said, "What I really want you to do is relax," and he said that he was nervous but that he'd be okay.

W. has very thin lips, but he's a skilled kisser, and he seemed to have lost any reticence. We made out for a good while and I played with his nips with my fingers and then with my mouth. I was getting no audible response from him at all, but he was pretty hard, so I figured it was all cool. A while later, I pushed him down toward my cock. Pretty good cocksucker: a little bit of teeth but not much, and he appeared to enjoy what he was doing, so I encouraged him with "You like that, don't you" and -- having received a reply in the affirmative -- "That must be why you're so good at it." His technical flaws were very minor, and I was enjoying the blowjob, so I didn't see any point in complaining. Plus, he seemed like a nice guy, so why not throw him a bone? Literally, figuratively, whatever.

We made out some more, and then I told him to suck my cock from the other direction so that I could play with his ass. I'm pretty sure that he'd never been rimmed before. He seemed to enjoy it quite a lot, though his responses were always so quiet as to be comical. But when I pushed my tongue against his ass, he stopped sucking my cock, and I could feel his body tense and I saw his head go up, and that's generally the body language that says "Yowza!" I pushed him back on my cock, and we stayed in that position for a good while. Fun, fun, fun. He asked whether I wanted to try topping him, which made me laugh and say, "Do you have a plane to catch?" He said he had time, so I explained that I was certainly going to fuck him but that just at that moment I was having too much fun eating his ass to move on.

Not long thereafter, I did, though. First I put him on his back and moved him so that his head was off the edge of the bed and then stood up fucked his face from that angle. Again, no response, but probable enjoyment. Then I grabbed a condom and told him to "glove me up." See, sometimes I can use porn language. Generally, though, I'd rather talk about baseball than talk about what I'm doing, and I don't really even like baseball. Actually, that's not true. I love going to baseball games, I just hate talking about baseball. And I hate the Yankees, but who doesn't? Anyway, I don't much like porn talk. I will give the occasional heartfelt (or cockfelt) compliment, but usually if I'm talking during sex, it's about an unrelated topic. So usually, I'm not talking during sex.

Really, it didn't take him nearly as long to get the condom on me as it took you to read that last paragraph. I put him on his stomach (I had some classic French porn playing on mute, and he intermittently enjoyed watching that), and lubed him up with one, then two, then three fingers. Then I climbed on. I told him I'd go slow after he told me he'd only been fucked once before. But I also told him that I bet he was a natural. And he was.

After easing in, I sped up somewhat. He was saying nothing at all, so after four or five minutes, I asked if he was enjoying it, and he said yes, then after another couple of minutes, he asked me to slow down a bit, and then he asked me whether there was ever any bleeding when I fucked a guy, and I said, "You mean me bleeding?" and he (smiling, I think) said, "No, the other guy." I thought about it for a bit, but I couldn't remember a single occasion where I'd seen blood on my condom. I told him that that was probably more likely when there wasn't sufficient preparation. Then he said he was feeling more comfortable, so I began fucking him faster.

He had a really pretty ass, and it was a nice fuck, but he wasn't really all that tight, and I knew that I wasn't going to cum from fucking him. Since he'd only been fucked once before, I figured I'd show him some other positions. So I had him sit on my cock "I've never done this position before" and laid him back into the X position "I've never done this before, either," then put him on his back and fucked him imperialist religion mongering missionary style. I had to ease up on him because, like many runners, he wasn't all that flexible, so I couldn't push his legs as far forward as I'd have liked. Then I rolled him onto his side and straddled his bottom leg and pushed his top leg forward, and fucked him that way. Also new for him.

After half an hour or so of fucking, I decided I'd had enough, so I pulled out of him and put him back on his back. I went to kiss him, but he said he couldn't kiss me after my tongue had been in his ass. He apologized, but it was no big deal. I told him that his ass was very clean (true), and he said that he'd need time to process the idea. So I rolled him onto his side and spooned him for a while, and we chatted about our experiences. He hasn't had sex with his wife in fifteen years, and he's hooked up five or six times from CL. He asked if I wanted to cum in him (with condom, of course), but I told him it was no big deal and that I rarely came inside anyone except for b&c, and that I usually finished myself off by hand. He said that I could jerk off onto his chest, but I didn't really feel like it. He asked whether that was really okay with me, and I laughed and said, "Yeah. I'm going to cum eventually. It's no big deal. Is it a big deal for you?" He said it wasn't.

I was stroking his body while spooning him and asked whether it was ok, and he said that he'd liked everything I'd done to him and that he hoped we could play again. I said sure. I never count on a repeat with a guy like him, but apparently it's not that hard for him to slip out in the evenings, so he has both motive and opportunity. I think we probably will play again. He told me he had about ten more minutes, so we stayed in that position and talked some more, and then he got dressed and left. Nice guy, decent cocksucker, good kisser, not very responsive. I think I'm going to have to break my longstanding policy and give him 1.5 stars. He clearly deserves more than one star, but when I went out afterwards, I got a McChicken sandwich instead of a cheeseburger. No cheeseburger, no second star.

Anyway, we'll see whether I hear from him again. When I told him again how nice his ass was, he told me that he was just starting serious training for a marathon and that in two weeks it would be an awesome ass. Let's hope I get to verify that claim. I reckon there's a good chance that I can loosen his inhibitions somewhat over time if I'm given the chance. And even if I'm not, it was a great way to start Saturday.

Struck Out

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Well, Duh

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A Matter of Perspective

I am troubled, readers, by prudishness. I realize that I'm probably preaching to the choir. Unless you're the sort of person who enjoys train wrecks, you're probably not a reader here if you're not a fuck-and-let-fuck sort of person. But I see an awful lot of prudishness around the net, even from other gay men. You know the sort: the guy who's been in a monogamous relationship for all of three weeks and who's decided that the gays as a whole are awful people with no morals just because his last twelve boyfriends all cheated on him, but no more! no sir! now he and the love of his life (who's also fucking other men but who's better at covering up) have decided to turn their backs on the gay lifestyle and live out their lives in each other's arms in their own corner of Logan Circle, where no temptation can reach them.

Or, you know, whatever. I may have some details wrong. And, really, I have the utmost respect to the six or eight gay men who are incarcerated together in remote rural prisons in truly monogamous relationships. Neither do I entirely eschew judgment. I have no patience for those who prey on children and try to pass it off as another normal sexual appetite: people have to be in relatively equal positions for there to be true consent.

Did I have a point here? Oh, wait, I did. It's that if you're looking down your nose at what other people do, try to bear in mind that most of the world is looking down its nose at all the men who like to have sex with other men. The fact that you only stick your cock in the ass of your one true soulmate rather than in the asses of anyone who'll have your cock is a distinction that's wasted on a great deal of the populace. So even if you're saying "ewww" on the inside, just smile nicely on the outside and be glad that the fisting bottom who's standing next to you at the Pride parade has found a way to be happy.

Besides, what's mild and what's mild is all a matter of perspective. Let's take a couple of examples from everyone's favorite sexual marketplace (I've left the reply addresses in, in case you feel like replying. Don't worry about stepping on my toes: I have other plans.):

WS - 45

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Reply to: pers-355394420@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-06-19, 9:57AM EDT

I really want to let go of my nice guy, suit and tie personality and do something nasty...I want to piss on or in someone or maybe have a tongue shoved up my ass.......good looking mild mannered guy looking to shake it up for once...you must be close to rockville and able to host

Location: Rockville
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Whoa, dude! A tongue up your ass? You WILD THING! Ok, I know, he's probably talking more about the watersports, but still. WS is something I can't do (No, really, I don't mean "won't do," I mean "can't do." I have tried, and I just cannot take a piss on someone. Maybe if both the other guy and I were blindfolded, but then wouldn't there be some problems with aim? Actually, I figure that if I had a twelve-pack of a nice ale, I'd probably be sufficiently drunk and sufficiently full of piss to give someone a golden shower, but there again, I'd have problems with aim. Also, I worry about laundry.), but taking a leak on another guy is not really all that wild compared to, say, having another guy take a leak on you. Or in you.

I'm really not making fun of this guy. I know there was a time when shoving my tongue up another guy's ass was unthinkable to me, and now it seems the height of vanilla. And maybe given another six months, this guy will have five-pound weights suspended from his nipple rings while he's getting double-fucked by twin police officers (in uniform: that's what makes it kinky). I just think that his idea of wild is a little, well, cute. I also think that if anyone responds to the ad, he's going to find that he has some trouble following through. Close your eyes and turn the taps on.

Here, by contrast, is an ad from someone who doesn't appear to think that his tastes are in any way out of the ordinary (and good for him, though I'd encourage him to give up smoking):

Masochist Pig needs Cigar Torture - 53

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Reply to: pers-355377017@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-06-19, 9:24AM EDT

Ready to be your prisoner for a few hours Wednesday or Thursday evening. Would especially like it if you tied me tight then tortured me with your cigar. Forced smoke, use my mouth as your ash tray, cook my nips and other body parts, eventually make me eat the cigar butt, washed down with your piss. Or, if you are a chew kinda guy, maybe some spittoon training? 53 yo 6’2 260 lb masculine gwm. HIV-, dd free, few limits. Visiting from SF, at hotel in Silver Spring, cannot host. Keywords: slave, bondage, leather, piss, abuse, pain, face fuck, whip, toilet, urinal, cigar torture, punch, humiliation, beat, edge, strap, tt, cbt, discipline

Location: Silver Spring
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

It amuses me to think that because this guy's from SF, he's probably toned the ad down for the locals. (Maybe he's dropped his typical Cubans in favor of domestic cigars.) I'll admit that I'd be fascinated to watch the session that guy ends up with. I couldn't reply, though, since significant parts of what he wants are beyond what I'm willing to provide.

Besides, he doesn't say anything about kissing. Go figure.

I Walk for Miles along the Highway

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