Indian Summer

I don't understand why some men let themselves become jaded about sex. I mean, sure, on one level, I tend to think of sex as a necessity, something like eating. But just because you gotta eat doesn't mean that you don't occasionally bow down in awe of a particularly fine extra bittersweet chocolate truffle or a really good steak or a fresh tomato from your garden or fig from your backyard, right? One of the best sexual compliments I ever received was from the first guy I had sex with, nearly ten years ago now. I think it was the second time we hooked up, and I was telling him how great it had been, and he agreed and then said, "You're just like a kid in bed." By which he meant eager, not unskilled. Years later, I'm just as eager and just as much in awe. And hopefully more skilled.


But a lot of guys who've been sexually active as long (or longer or not as long) tell me that they have very dull sex lives, and they seem to accept this as an ordinary and inevitable consequence of life. I disagree. Strenuously. If you find sex boring, or, for that matter, if you find sex something that's not interesting enough to plan your day around, then you're really missing out. Most guys who become jaded about sex are suffering from a lack of imagination, coupled, perhaps, with a lack of variety. I'm sure that in some cases there are also physical factors, but you can work around those with enough imagination and/or variety.

I don't wish to wade into the exclusivity (you can call it monogamy if you must, but you're almost certainly mistaken) debate here. Let's just say it: if you believe that sexual exclusivity should be required in a relationship, then you likely think that I'm an immoral slut. Conversely, I probably think of you as an insecure¹, stuck-up prude. Except on days when I'm feeling less charitable, in which case I think of you as an insecure, stuck-up prude who cheats on his boyfriend when you're sure that you won't get caught. (Fortunately, I'm usually an extremely charitable person. Also, for the record, I will only cop to being an amoral slut.) Anyway, I don't want to knock the one-man men out there (especially the ones who are happy in their exclusivity). I'm just saying that, for me, a variety of men helps to keep me appreciative of the awesomeness of sex.


And speaking of awesome sex, I apparently misspoke earlier this week when I said that my romp with Judd (also awesome) was to be the last extracurricular fuck of summer. I had thought that Logan was blowing me off, but it turns out that there was a bit of a miscommunication. His written English, apparently, is not quite up to the level of his excellent spoken English, so figuring out exactly what he's saying in email involves some guesswork. Anyway, on Wednesday, I got another email from him saying that he did, indeed, want to spend the night last night. And then yesterday, I got another email saying that he'd fallen in the shower and hurt his back, so that he wouldn't be able to spend the night because he had a doctor's appointment at 8 Friday morning. And then another email clarifying that he still wanted to come over for a while but that spending the night would have to wait until another time. Or at least that's what I think they all said. In any case, he showed up last night not long after ten, which gave me just enough time to get home from choir practice², shower, and dress before he showed up.


I decided to mix things up a bit, so instead of grabbing him, kissing him hard, and pushing him upstairs, I drew him to me gently (in consideration of his back), kissed him softly for a few moments, and offered him a glass of wine. We sat on the love seat for a little while, and in between sips of wine, I kissed him softly and lightly traced my fingertip along the outside of his ears and massaged his neck. And I probably would have sat there and done that for a quarter hour or so, except that every time I kissed and/or touched him, he went immediately to his happy place and so lost focus on everything else that I was sure he'd spill his wine. So after a couple of minutes, I pulled him off the love seat and pushed him upstairs.


It's clear to me now (and it has been for some time, really) that what I most want from a sex partner is that he melt at my touch. Which is just another way of saying that a) we're compatible and b) he loves sex as much (or nearly as much) as I do. I had amazing sex with both Judd and Logan this week, and in a lot of ways they couldn't be more different. Judd is a compact, vocal, amusingly vulgar American. Logan is a tall, reserved, elegant European. Logan is coming out of a twenty-five year marriage and is really just starting his sexual exploration with men. Judd has been around the block more times than a Manhattan taxicab. But when I kiss either of them, he turns to molten lust in my hands. At one point last night, I'd been licking and sucking and lightly biting Logan's nipples (which have clearly not seen much action), and he was writhing, but it was a restrained, quiet writhing, and I was pretty sure he was having a great time, but I asked, anyway, whether he liked it when I played with his nipples, and he said, "Oh yes. I love it all." That sort of response is very intoxicating.


I took my time getting his clothes off last night. When we got upstairs, he sat on the edge of the bed and took off his jacket and shoes while I ran my hand along the strip of skin that was showing above the back of his waistband, but then I laid him out on the bed and started to kiss him before he could take off his t-shirt or slacks. He's a wonderful, deep, soft kisser, although his kisses take on an additional urgency when I get on top of him and pin his hands down over his head. There is clearly a submissive streak in him, and I hope that I get the chance to explore it in further depth sometime, but it's probably not wise to offer to put restraints on a relative newbie with a back injury, so I settled for eating his nearly hairless pits. I may very well have been the first person to do that, judging from his reaction. Then again, he had the same reaction when I licked along his jawline, so who knows?

I got his slacks undone and pulled his cock out so that it was held down by the elastic of his underwear, and I continued exploring his long, smooth body. I had his t-shirt pushed up and ran my tongue across his abs and over to his side, gently nibbling his side just above his waist and then went back to his nipples, sucking them between my lips and quickly flicking my tongue over them. He's the sort of guy who reacts quietly to overwhelming stimulation, and I would, as well as my own passion allowed, listen carefully for the low groans and intakes of breath that indicated just how lost in it all he was. And when I got an audible response, I'd smile around his nipple and work harder.


Eventually, his ecstatic stupor gave way to a desire for more activity, and he started to play with my cock, which was by then almost painfully hard. I took a quick break to remove his pants and underwear and my boxers, then I lay beside him again, and he ran his tongue down my chest until he was face to slit with my cockhead. I grabbed his hair tightly, making him gasp, open wide, and go down on me. I pushed his head down on me a bit, but then I lay back and relaxed for a while as he got more and more into the cocksucking. I pulled him off me for some extended kissing, but then I let him get back to it until he seemed to have had enough. When he collapsed next to me and we began kissing again, I rolled him onto his stomach and ran my tongue from the small of his back up to his shoulders. Then I bit down lightly on his shoulders while I rubbed my cock along his asscrack.

He clearly wanted to be fucked, so I knelt up, reached over to the table, grabbed a condom, and slid it on. Then I reached over to the other table for a little lube. He reached back to guide my cock into him. I slid into him slowly, but not too slowly because he was pushing his ass up as I pushed my cock in. I bent down to bite his shoulder some more, and before long, I was pistoning in and out. He was quietly, but clearly, ecstatic. The way he was moving his ass didn't always mesh perfectly with the way I was moving my cock, but I got accustomed to it quickly enough so that I could continue to plow for a while. I'd gotten an email earlier that evening from a reader who told me that the way I describe myself sometimes makes me sound like a fuck machine. I haven't really thought of myself in those terms before, but I guess it's a mode I do reasonably well. In any case, I was consciously thinking, "fuck machine" as I fucked Logan. And it was great.


After an extended pounding, I flipped him onto his back. He's tall and slender and agile, so it was easy to push his legs forward and wrap his ankles around my neck and continue to fuck him while we kissed. That was heavenly, but I alternated that position with something more fuck machinish where I pushed his ankles down around his ears, reared up, and banged his prostate really hard. No matter how I fucked him, he just smiled, and the longer I went, the wider his smile became.

We'd been fucking for a good long time, so I decided to take a break. We lay next to each other and made out some more, and he got more and more animated until he pushed me on my back and mounted me. He bounced up and down on my cock and squeezed his ass so tight that I was sure I'd cum. I didn't, but he made my cock feel amazing, and the way his body responded when I twisted his nipples or grabbed his side made me feel even better. Eventually, though, I was starting to feel like I might get a cramp in my calves from pushing up into him, and he seemed pretty much equally blissful no matter what we were doing by then, so I pulled him off my cock, put my left arm around him, and we began to kiss deeply and hungrily as I started to jerk myself off. He rubbed my nuts and ass as I stroked. He was on his side, and I'd planned to cum all over him, but when I shot, I shot a frighteningly huge load all the way past his torso and head to hit the bed and pillows behind him. And he's very tall, so that spunk flew a looooong way. He smiled and gave a satisfied sigh when he heard it hit behind him.


And then we continued to lie there and kiss. He hadn't cum, but he was so clearly blissed out by the whole thing that I only played with his cock for a little bit before figuring that he'd gotten everything he wanted from everything I'd done. He told me that he was very comfortable with me and that he was sorry that he had to leave. I told him that it was okay, and, in any case, it was a while before he moved. We just stayed there wrapped around each other.

I tried to engage him in a bit of chat, but he seems to be a man of few words, or maybe he was just too happy to want to talk. He said again how comfortable he was, and we kissed some more, and he asked me what time it was, and when I told him it was midnight, he said that he really had better get going. He still didn't seem very resolute about getting up, but a few minutes later he finally sat up and then started to get dressed. I washed off a bit and started to pull the sheet off the bed. It was really drenched with cum. Then I sat next to him and rubbed his neck while he finished getting his shoes on, and he apologized again for having to leave and said that he would really like another opportunity to spend the night. I'd already explained to him that b&c is coming home this weekend, so I won't be able to entertain overnight guests for a while, but I'll certainly extend an overnight invitation when I can. He feels good in my arms.


¹Some moron actually left a comment on Eric's blog calling Eric insecure for having visited a German bathhouse. There are a few things that are probably useful in a German bathhouse (the entrance fee and mouthwash come to mind), but insecurity is not one of them. I pray for the day that I'm secure enough to go into a German bathhouse.

²A short conversation from last night's choir practice:

TED: So you decided not to sing with the [other local UU church] choir?

Soprano 1: The director there said that he wasn't sure my voice would fit in with the other sopranos. Apparently it's not thin enough.

Soprano 2: Yeah, you have to audition to be in that choir, and everyone who joins is on probation at first.

TED: Huh.

Sop1: The director there is kind of particular and a little bit of a control freak. The choir is a little bit scared of him.

TED: Vicious queen, eh?

Sop1: No, no, I didn't mean that.

TED: Oh, come on, I don't mind. You know that joke, right? How many straight male choir directors does it take to screw in a light bulb?

Sop2: How many?

TED: Both of them.

Sop2: [laughs]

Sop1: No, no, he's not gay. He's married.

TED: [Sliding his arm around Sop1's shoulder.] Oh, sweetie. Let me explain something to you.

Sop2: [laughs, helplessly]