Shove, Rub, Tug

Sorry to bore you guys with more tales of hook-ups and massage, but it's what I do, right? I've been too busy even to point and laugh at the Craigslist missed connections this week. Anyway, there are plenty of other sites for witty and trenchant gay social commentary, if you're into that sort of thing. I'm pretty sure that the authors of those sites have about as much sex with about as many different people as I do (maybe more); they just don't 'fess up.

Anyway, last night was a good example of why it pays not to burn your bridges. Yes, I know that when someone flakes on you and/or jerks you around, it momentarily feels good to send the Dear Douchebag flameout e-mail, and if you're the kind of guy who has trouble letting go of guys who treat you badly, the flameout e-mail is not a bad idea. But silence is a better response: if karma doesn't bite that guy in the ass (and, no, I don't believe it will), then perhaps you can. I don't think I ever bit last night's guy in the ass, but he probably would have liked it, if his reaction to my biting his shoulder is any indication.

I first ran into this guy about a year ago, probably when b&c was over in Sarajevo. I'd placed an ad somewhere, I reckon, and he'd responded, and we'd e-mailed and then spoken on the phone several times. Then he disappeared for a couple of weeks and then reappeared. That happened a couple of times, so he was on the far back burner. He was married, and he had kids, and there was some sort of litigation-related drama going on, and he always apologized when he reappeared, and since he was a good conversationalist, I just let it flow. Then one weekend he decided that he really did want to get together, and I gave him my address, and we set a time, and he called to say he'd be late, and then he called to say he'd be later, and then I heard nothing at all from him. I probably would have been angry if I hadn't also gotten on to gay.com and run into a local guy who had been wanting to get together with me for a while. We never seemed to be available at the same time, but both our partners were out of time that night, so I went over, and we had a really fun session. So I had good reason to be annoyed at R., but the annoyance got washed away in the afterglow. Mmmmm, afterglow.

Anyway. When I placed this week's CL ad, I heard from R. again, and he wondered whether I was the same guy he'd talked to a year ago. He said that there had been much drama going on and that his life was now drama free. I reminded him exactly what had happened, and he apologized, saying "I could say that shit happens, but in reality, shit usually comes from assholes." Deep, huh? Anyway, he's probably a bit of a roué, but he's charming, and I was very curious about him, so we talked a few times and made arrangements to get together last night.

I suppose that I understand the whole pre-coital chit chat thing, but it doesn't work for me. If you're nervous about meeting someone, doesn't small talk just make you more nervous? And if you're showing up at some guy's house, you know you're there to get it on, so why not just get it on? I guess maybe I'm just not that much of a conversationalist when I'm horny. I'm much better at it after I've fucked the guy. After all, you're both lying there naked and you should be pretty relaxed. There shouldn't be any barriers to conversation then, right?

Yeah. I'm aware that lots of guys don't feel that way and that lots of guys clam up after they ejaculate. But if a guy isn't going to talk to you after he cums, then why waste time talking with him beforehand? If the only good thing you're going to get from the encounter is sex, then why bother with all the packaging?

Anyway, R. lives in a somewhat dodgy D.C. neighborhood, but in a pretty cool rowhouse that's stuffed to the gills with stuff that obviously came from a much larger residence. I'm a big fan of huge piles of stuff as long as the stuff doesn't include vermin and/or rotting food, so when he answered the door and told me he was on the phone, I happily looked around for a bit and then used the rest room and removed my shoes and underwear (I put my slacks back on).

He came back to say hello, and I jumped him. He seemed to want to talk, but we've talked plenty in the past, and I was a bit worked up. R.'s in his early fifties, I'd guess (he says 48, but, please), and he's in pretty good shape, with a big shaggy head of strawberry blond hair. He's a fairly furry redhead from the waist up, but he's almost hairless from the waist down.

I had him undressed and on the bed pretty quickly. It was clear from the outset that he prefers a more passive role, so I pinned his hands down while we made out, and then I went for his nipples. R. claims to have fairly limited boy-on-boy experience, and I'm not sure whether I believe him, but the (relatively mild, by my standards) nipple play did seem to be new to him, and he liked it plenty. He was pretty quickly trying to sit on my cock, and I was slowing him down, in part because, well, where's the fire? But mostly he seemed to be trying to sit on my cock without proper accessories, and that's not going to happen. I was able to tell, however, that he was pre-lubed, so I never did get to eat his ass, but since he's a good kisser and I was introducing him to the glories of extended nipple play, I had plenty to do.

Half an hour or so in, I asked him to put a condom on me, and then I let him have a seat. Limited experience, maybe, but he certainly didn't have much trouble taking my cock. Still, he was an enthusiastic bottom, and once he had me all the way inside him, he bent all the way forward so that we could continue kissing while I thrust into him.

Worked up and an ass that's only moderately tight always make for a long fuck, and last night was no exception. After he bounced on me for a while, I unbent his legs and lowered him into the X position, which I would hazard to say was also new for him. Lots of moaning. He's the kind of guy who pretty quickly gets to the bottom's happy place and stays there for a long while. After the X, he sat back up, and he bounced for a while, then I thrust for a while, then he bounced while I thrust, then I took him doggy style for a while, then I put him on his stomach for a while, then I rolled him on his side and straddled one leg for a while, then I spooned him for a while, then I put him on his back and bent him double and fucked him that way for a long while. After 45 minutes or so of dedicated fucking, he needed a break. After running off to the bathroom for a few minutes, he came back and we made out for a while longer, and then I put him on his stomach and lay on top of him and fucked him from behind, hard, for another fifteen minutes or so until I was ready to shoot.

I pulled out just before blast-off and pulled off the condom and painted his ass with a very healthy load. He liked that plenty.

I'd been there two hours at that point, and I had a buddy showing up for a massage at 10:30, so I had to get dressed and out pretty quickly. I grabbed a cheeseburger on the way home. It was a pretty good fuck, and I expect that there will be others.

I got home shortly after ten, and I was feeling a bit rattled. I still had to set up the table and get my supplies ready and rinse off and change. I got it all done in time, but just barely, and when B. showed up, I really wasn't in the right mood for a massage. But I very much wanted to give him one: it had been a while since I'd done any massages, and he's a very good subject. He has a very nice body, he responds well to all sorts of touch, and even though we're friends, there's never any awkwardness about me pushing a finger in his ass and stroking him off.

It took a while to get there, though. I turned on the music and started as I usually do. He seemed to be enjoying it, and while I'm not so much on the new age terminology, I just wasn't feeling grounded. I wasn't feeling the energy flow.

I concentrated on technique, and I did my best to quiet a noisy mind, and after extensive work on his neck, shoulders, upper back, lower back, butt, and thighs, I started to feel a lot more connected by the time I'd gotten to his calves. After finishing with his feet, I went back up his body and worked the shoulders some more so that I could be sure to give them some attention when I was in the right place to do good work.

B. has expressed before an almost spiritual appreciation for prostate massage, so I gave an extended one last night. I could tell from the gentle writhing and the many sighs that it was putting him in a good place, and after doing it for much longer than I usually do, I began to feel his sphincter clamp down hard around my finger. I was worried that he might be cumming, but he wasn't, though he was extremely happy. I did some more back work on him and then told him to flip over.

Part of what's so much fun about massaging B. is that though his eyes remain closed, his pleasure is very evident on his face. I massaged his scalp and temples for a while, and then I moved to his neck, which seemed to provide particular joy for him. But I think by then he had just moved into a state of heightened receptivity, because he also seemed very moved by the massage I did on his arms and (especially) hands and by all my torso work. When I got to the fronts of his thighs, he really seemed to melt.

Oddly, his cock remained soft, even after I had worked on and hardened his nipples and until I grabbed it directly. The massage took about half-again longer than usual, in large part because he was very slow to cum. But that was fine. He got hard then soft then hard then soft again, but his enjoyment became more and more vocal, and it was clear that it never got to be too much for him. At one point he said, "sometimes my cock gets so stimulated that it just wants to hide," and I laughed and said "Ya think?" but it was clear that he didn't want me to stop.

I brought him to a state of special excitement by concentrating my fingers on his frenulum, in time with the music. Then I stuck a finger into his ass and pushed on his prostate while I slowly stroked his cock. He was now writhing not so gently and uttering the sort of inchoate grunts of lust that I just love to hear. But his cock went soft again, and I was worried that it was the prostate massage that was doing it, so I pulled the finger out. I played with his nipples and his cock, and he just smiled more and more broadly and eventually I felt wood start to form. He just about cheered when I put my finger back inside him and against his prostate and after a good deal more stroking and a good deal more volume from him, he started to jerk uncontrollably and came really hard. I kept stroking him, and it was clear that his cockhead was incredibly sensitive, but he never tried to get me to back off. He doesn't talk much on the table, but he mentioned "wild sensations" during the time I was stroking him, and he very impressively manages to enjoy what other guys find to be too much.

After wiping him off, I had him get back on his stomach, and I did some extensive additional back and shoulder work. I really didn't want to stop, but it was very late by then, and I knew I still had some housework to do and that I had a very busy day coming up today. B. asked me whether a ninety-plus-minute massage didn't exhaust me, but it didn't, not in the least. It calmed me down significantly, and once I started to feel the energy flow, it made me both more relaxed and more alert.

We chatted for a bit, and we made arrangements to get together for dinner. He wants to buy me a meal to thank me for the massages. That's really not necessary, but refusing a free meal is a violation of everything I believe in, so I accepted graciously.