Monday, January 28, 2008


Don't you love it when religious iconography turns phallic?
Most of my gay friends who are about my age have settled into a life with plenty of time for leisure. They have jobs that require, more or less, forty hours a week and pay enough to fund their 401(k) plans, and they don't have kids to worry about. Some of these wonderful, wonderful people will go so far as to call me up on a Saturday at the end of February and say, "Hey, I'm on my way to the airport for a trip to Mexico! What are you doing? Oh, right! You're at the office doing taxes. Have fun!" I exaggerate, of course: they only say the first part of that. I hang up on them midway through the second sentence.

The statue is afraid to sit down, but he'll get there in time.
Anyway, even though my workload won't become truly crushing for another month, I'm now at the point where I at least need to make an appearance at the office on Saturday. Saturdays at the office will become longer and longer, but I've already hit the point where the weekend is pretty much down to Sunday. This year, for the first time in a while, I've decided not to give up choir during tax season, so Sunday morning's also spoken for. This weekend, I had YFU until late Sunday afternoon, by which time b&c was on a plane to Miami. That left me Sunday evening for myself.

He's smiling because of what he's going to do with that wrench, obviously.
Sunday evenings are already the red-headed stepchild of weekends: you know you're getting closer and closer to Monday morning, and you can't stay up real late. So maybe it's best not to clog them with troublesome young submissive wannabes. Fortunately, that situation worked itself out. I got an IM from the boy saying that his girlfriend said she would be "totally pissed" at him if he shaved his body and that he hoped I would understand and only tie him down and spank him savagely instead. He'd already tried earlier to bargain me down to just shaving his ass. I wouldn't have any of that, and I wasn't having any of this. I told him that if his girlfriend could tell him what he could do with his own body hair then he didn't need me to dominate him. I further suggested that he buy her a strap-on. But I was relieved that the whole thing had fallen through.

Not even porn: just the way the boys are wearing their jeans these days.
Not long after I wrote the boy off, I got a text from Kip saying that he was horny. I told him I could play at 5:30. In his initial text accepting, he called me "sir," and I figured that he knew b&c was out of town, but then when he texted to say he was on his way over, he said "C u guys soon." I didn't feel the need to disabuse him of the notion until he arrived.

Kip, for those of you who haven't read or don't remember, has always been a problem because he makes himself out to be a big old bottom, but at the last minute, he's always backed out of getting fucked, claiming that a) I'm too thick and b) he never really gets fucked. a) stuff and b) nonsense. B&c always makes the problem worse by going down on Kip, which makes him lose any interest in what anyone else wants. Anyway, I was determined to get what I wanted out of (or rather, into) him this time or make it clear that I wasn't interested in playing any more. When he arrived, I kissed him, told him that b&c was in Miami, and squeezed his ass as he walked up the stairs. He didn't wait to be invited, of course.

Perky.  I wish he'd smile, though.
He kept trying to take his clothes off, and I kept stopping him and throwing him on the bed. Kip's about 5'4 and 120, so "throwing" is meant literally here. There was a lot of necking and nipple play. Eventually, I did take his shirt and jeans off. He was wearing this ridiculous, large pair of red boxer shorts. Very disappointing in that he often wears a jockstrap, and I had really wanted to fuck him with his cock still covered. Anyway, things took their course for a while, and eventually I had my tongue up his ass (waaaaay up his ass), and he was playing with my cock, but not sucking it, which annoys me. And then he started turning around and sticking his cute little cock in my face, asking me to fuck him. I told him no. He asked again and said, "Just suck it: I won't cum," and I told him no and shoved his crotch away from my face. I put him on his stomach, got some lube, and pushed a couple of fingers into him, and then I put on a condom.

I maybe should have spent more time preparing him, but I had about had it up to here with him, so I spread some more lube on the condom and started to push into him. I was going very slowly, and he was opening up, but then he told me he couldn't take it. I put him in a different position and tried again, but still no go. I tried two more times with two more positions, but he started to whine and say he couldn't take it and I should just tie him up instead. I'm convinced his problem is mental (i.e., he's a douchebag) instead of physiological, so I told him to leave. The boy's a good kisser, and he's cute, but a bottom who doesn't suck cock and doesn't take it up the ass and only wants to be sucked off is, well, a top. Kip seemed very upset as he was leaving, but I reckon that was mostly because he hadn't gotten a blowjob. He already uses b&c for sex on demand, but I am nobody's bitch. Well, except for the girls, of course, but that's just being a father, and they're very nice about it.

Not long after Kip left, b&c called to say that he'd arrived safely and was at his hotel, and I told him the whole story, which he found highly amusing. I think I'm mostly relieved that I won't have to deal with Kip again, but at the time, I was also horny. I probably should have called Christopher, but I would have felt guilty. Maybe I should see if he wants to help me out with my sub on Tuesday. Anyway, I did get back on for a while, and there was a married guy who was hot to have me fuck him, but he was having trouble deciding that he really wanted to go through with it. After stringing me along for half an ahour and asking me for the third time whether I was sure that I'm HIV negative, he finally blew me off because I insisted on using a condom while I fucked him. Apparently, he figures that guys who use condoms are more likely to be positive than guys who don't. Having sex, even protected, with a guy that stupid has just got to be dangerous.

I like the cowboy hat, but I'm pretty sure that if this guy's ever seen a lasso, he was tied up in it.
So I went for the Vesuvial wank instead. Sometimes I get caught up in the hunt and forget just how much fun it can be to have the house to myself and spend forty-five minutes jerking off. Then I read trashy fiction for a while before settling down with some Kettle chips (the salt and freshly ground pepper flavor: so good) to watch Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon on DVD.

I'd forgotten just how much I love that movie. When it first came out, I had not seen anything like it from a special effects point of view. I didn't watch many martial arts movies, and I hadn't seen The Matrix in the theater. So in addition to the really terrific story and performances, I was blown away by all the dancing over rooftops and battling through bamboo forests. And the drums.

Not a real prisoner, I think, but everyone looks good in black and white, and vertical stripes are very slimming.
I had liked CT,HD so much that I'd gone to see it again in the theater, but I'd made the mistake of going there on a sort of date, and I couldn't keep myself from molesting the guy I was with. We were in the back row, and I had my hand inside his fly and was playing with his cock for a while when he suggested that we leave. We were only halfway through the movie, but I took him back to my apartment and fucked him. He was an okay lay, but only okay. I haven't fondled a guy in a movie theater in a long time, but the next time I want to do it, I'm going to make sure that it's a terrible movie. Who wants to walk out on Chow-Yun Fat to have sex that would more aptly be described as decent than indecent?

1 comment:

John said...

I realize you didn't actually set up a poll on the subject, but: Congratulations on kicking Kip to the curb. Well done.