Amuse-Queue

It is evident, readers, that there are significant parallels between dining and sex. Both involve matters of taste and both deal with appetite. In both cases, there are those of us who go beyond what is strictly necessary to satisfy those appetites. I would argue that with food it is better to be a gourmet than a gourmand. With sex, however, more is more.

At the same time, one has occasionally to pace oneself. When you're out catting around, it's tempting to be the sexual equivalent of Mr. Creosote, but that last wafer-thin mint can put you out of commission for a while, and you can end up having less sex than if you'd gone a bit slower. All of this, of course, becomes more of an issue as you get older, but the principle is still sound (albeit to a lesser degree) even if you're twenty-five. And there is a great deal of variability between individuals and for the same individual in different situations. You just have to know your own refractory period and how it varies with circumstance.

Anyway, last night, I was due to hook up with my friend JP at ten. I usually hook up with him on the late side. Initially, that was because we'd get together after I was done with choir practice. When there's no choir practice, it's because I don't want an open-ended evening. JP is a nice guy, and he's a lot of fun to be around in a sort of down-the-rabbit-hole way, but he's really better enjoyed in small doses. If I hang around too long, he will inevitably start to wonder why we don't hook up more often, and this is a question that I can't answer. There is, of course, an answer for it: because I don't want to hook up with him more often. But I can't say that to him.

Having a ten o'clock rendez-vous leaves plenty of time to get in trouble beforehand, and while I was in the office, I'd chatted with some married guy on gay.com. He was in town on business, and he wanted to be plowed in his hotel room. He was also amenable to making out and some oral and liked to be submissive on occasion. He said that his nipples were "uncomfortably sensitive," but nobody's perfect, right?

Originally, I'd been planning to get out of the office around 5:30 and head up to his hotel, which, given the Bethesda traffic, would probably have meant a 6:15 arrival time, leaving me plenty of time to churn out a load and still be in prime shape to fuck JP at 10. Alas, we're moving offices this weekend, and I was meant to be packed before I left last night, so I didn't get out of the office until almost 7, and when I called SMG's room, he'd gone out. So I went home and started some laundry and logged back on, and SMG hit me up to say that he was sorry he'd missed me. I asked whether he was still looking, and he said he was interested, but he didn't want to be up late. I told him I could be there by 8:15. He said he'd leave the door ajar and be naked on the bed, ass up.

SMG's hotel was on the way to JP's place, or at least close enough to on the way that it would have made no sense for me to go there and then go home before heading up to JP's. So -- because I knew SMG didn't want to go very late -- I called JP on my way over to see SMG to ask whether we could move our appointment forward to 9:30. I figured that would give me forty minutes, door-to-door, with SMG, with enough time left over to grab a quick bite on the way to JP's.

If you watch Top Chef (and perhaps even if you don't), you know that an amuse-bouche is small, one- or two-bite treat that's served prior to the starter to stimulate the appetite. In France, it is often called an amuse-gueule instead. SMG was meant to be last night's sexual equivalent of the amuse-bouche, the amuse-queue. If you're an oral bottom, of course, amuse-bouche is still appropriate. If you're an anal bottom, you could go with amuse-cul. If you're really pretentious, or drunk, you can call rimming an amuse-cul. Actually, you have to be pretentious to use any of these terms unless you have your tongue firmly in your cheek. Which makes amuse-cul difficult unless you're willing to extend "tongue-in-cheek" to mean having your tongue in the other guy's cheek. Or perhaps between the other guy's cheeks. Did I have a point here somewhere?

SMG was perhaps older than he'd claimed, and he had a bit of a beer gut, but he was also very smooth (married guys who wax: go figure) and had a deep tan with no lines, both things that I find very hot. Besides, as I've said many times, I'm particular about performance, not appearance, and when I took off my shoes and slacks and turned him over on his back and started to kiss him, he really knew what he was doing. It's decidedly weird for me to have to treat the nipples as a no-fly zone when I'm making out, but there were plenty of other places for me to put my hands and mouth, so it was fine.

After the making out, I got rid of my boxer briefs and directed SMG towards my cock. As a cocksucker, he definitely knows his limits, so while he attached the cockhead con mucho gusto, he didn't really get to the shaft. It was an odd blowjob: not bad, but not something I'd seek out. I started fingering his ass. I'd figured out within about forty-five seconds of entering the room that it was pre-lubed, so I knew eating was out of the question. What SMG really wanted was to make out and get fucked. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I grabbed the condom he'd left on the nightstand and told him to put it on me. He did, and I put him on his stomach and eased my way slowly into him. He grimaced a fair amount, but he didn't complain, and after a minute, I was fully engaged and started to ramp up the frequency. Once I started to pound, he asked whether we could change positions. I think he was feeling the full stomach from dinner. I put him on his side and entered him from a spooning position. Then I pushed one of his legs forward and straddled the other leg and pounded some more. He was looking a little shell shocked, so I asked him whether he was okay, and he said, "oh yeah!" and I moved him onto his back, with his legs up in the air, and re-entered him.

I was really looking not to cum, so after about ten minutes of total fuck time, I pulled out and took a short breather. Then I got off the bed and moved him so that he was still on his back with his ass right on the edge. The bed was the perfect height for me to fuck him from a standing position. I put his legs straight up in the air, pushed into him, and began thrusting. He really liked that, and he liked it even more when I grabbed his feet and started to push down. That made his body bounce up and down slightly on the bed so that his ass rose to meet my cock as I rammed into him.

I'd been there about half an hour, and I felt like my queue was about as amused as I wanted it to be, so I pulled out and lay down beside him for a moment. I still had a few minutes, and he had a small cock, so I decided to go down on him. I'm all about sucking the cock that's so small that even I can do a good job on it. I slid a finger inside his ass and sucked him all the way in (not even close to shallow, let alone deep, throat) and listened to him gasp and moan for a few minutes. He got a little longer, but he never got really hard, and while he expressed his pleasure quite volubly, I didn't anticipate an orgasm in the foreseeable future. Plus, I was getting close to my deadline, so I stopped. We chatted for a bit while I washed up and got dressed, and it was all very comfortable and companionable, just the way a hook up ought to be.

We hadn't been at it long, but I had fucked him pretty hard, so I was feeling a bit drained when I left. Plus, I hadn't eaten since noon, and it was 9:00, so I was starving. Hunger is a good stimulant to arousal, but it's anathema to endurance, so I hit the BK drive-through and picked up an order of chicken fries (I have no idea) and a Diet Coke.

I made my way up to Germantown, which is surely one of the most depressing places in the universe, and to JP's condo. He greeted me wearing a Hawaiian shirt and nothing else. It's a good look for him. JP's about 5'10, African American, and has braids that go about halfway down his back, so he's at his most striking when he's wearing nothing at all, but I knew there wasn't long to wait for that.

I grabbed him right away and started to kiss him and tug on his nipples. JP is always very verbal, and the moaning and "Oh Ted" started right away. Then he stopped and asked me whether I wanted to take a shower. I reckon that if someone asks you whether you want a shower, the answer is always yes. At first, I thought that perhaps I hadn't cleaned up sufficiently, but when I got out of the shower and toweled off and went to the bedroom, I saw him getting out of the shower in the master bath, and I realized he'd just needed an excuse to shower himself. And to use some mouthwash. I'd tasted cigarettes when we'd first kissed, but after his trip to the bathroom, he was all minty fresh.

JP is always a man in a hurry in bed, and depending on my mood, I'll either go with it or hold him back. We'd been on the bed for less than five minutes of kissing and me working his nipples when he dove for my cock. He's what you'd call a sloppy cocksucker, but he sure is good at it, so I let him deep throat me for five minutes or so while I lay back and enjoyed. I knew he was about to beg me either to rim or to fuck him, so to forestall that (it's a great ass for amuse-cul, but if I rim him, then he's begging hard to be fucked within about sixty seconds), I pulled him back to me and started to make out again. He's a skilled kisser with very nice lips, so I kept that going for a good while, with the occasional nipple nip worked in for variety. Chewing on his nipples always makes him especially verbal. What he says is uninspired but not annoying, and it always gets me worked up to hear him getting worked up.

I kept the making out going for as long as I could, but he has an ass that won't be denied, and before too long he was begging me to fuck him. I told him to glove me up, and he did, then he lubed both of us and rolled over onto his stomach.

JP has one of those asses that's very tight but still easy to get into. Would that all men were the same. I took a little time getting into him, but within a minute or so, I was pounding away, unleashing a torrent of verbal appreciation. Apparently, I'm the second coming, though I suspect he feels the same way about every cock he has in his ass.

You can count on JP for five minutes of hard fucking. Then he cums. Every time. It is, of course, gratifying to fuck a load out of a bottom, but with most bottoms, five minutes isn't nearly enough time for me to get off. With JP, however, his ass is clamping down so hard on my cock from the outset -- and so much harder when he cums -- that I almost always lose my load right when he does. Last night was no exception.

It was about 10:30 when I finished fucking him, and then we both drifted off for just a couple of minutes. Then we chatted for a bit. His life is always fascinating and chaotic. Again, best digested in small amounts. I needed to get home to finish putting stuff away in anticipation of the cleaning people's visit this morning, so I got dressed. On my way out, he gave me a case of organic tortilla chips. I figured it was better not to ask. I did refuse the six jars of bread and butter pickles, though I would have accepted cornichons. Does that mean I was paid for sex? Go me.

A cheeseburger and a half-hour later, I was home, and I should have collapsed, but some part of me still wanted dessert. After starting the dishwasher and cycling the laundry, I called up one of my occasional phone buds and stroked out another load to an imagined scene that involved sex in a theatre. I've had sex in a theatre, of course, but anything involving a legitimate fear of getting caught is something that's more fun over the phone than in real life. I came hard, wiped up, and fell right to sleep.