I had just left my office last Thursday evening when my cellphone rang. "Private Call," it said on the display. Tex. My phone stalker. I hadn't taken one of his calls in a month or two, so I picked up.
TED: Hello.
Tex: Hey, Daddy. How you doin', sir?
TED: Good. You?
Tex: Good, sir. Where are you?
TED: Driving.
Tex: Oh, Daddy. I wish I was there, sucking your cock.
TED: What makes you think I'd let you, boy?
Tex: Oh please, Daddy? Please?
And then I hung up. I was already hard, but I still had a few errands to run and plenty of time before choir practice started, so I figured I could let the scene with Tex play out slowly. He called back immediately, twice, but I didn't pick up. I knew that he'd keep trying, and I knew that I'd have a chance to take one of his calls when I could most enjoy it.
Tex has been my phone stalker for quite some time now. Apparently, we first encountered each other on gay.com (I say "apparently" because I really don't remember our first encounter, but it's documented in the first post I wrote about him, so that must be how it happened. I can't tell you how useful it is to have my personal sexual history online in a searchable format, especially since my memory, it seems, can no longer be bothered with finding additional storage space for the personal details of the guys I hook up with.), and the relationship (a term I use very loosely) has progressed in interesting ways over the last eighteen or so months.
Initially, Tex was very reticent with personal information and approached me as an arrogant fellow top. I enjoyed some initial phone sex, but then I grew bored of him, so I stopped answering his calls, and they tapered off somewhat. But he never fully stopped, and I started answering the phone on a very occasional basis when he called. He became more desperate and more submissive as time went by. He began calling me "Daddy" and stopped talking about how he liked to fuck ass. He revealed that he was married, and as I began to talk about being rougher and more abusive, he got more and more turned on.
Unless someone tells you (and perhaps not always even then), it's difficult to know what demons any man is struggling with, and it's most difficult to know with a guy you talk to on the phone every few weeks or months, but I'd guess that Tex experiences tremendous shame over his fantasies about being used by me. I'd also guess that he fights the urge to call me as long as he can. When I answer one of his calls for the first time in a while, he's cocky again, but then I either talk about having him tied to the bed or I hang up on him, and he's soon whimpering subserviently. On Thursday, before I hung up for the last time, I told him that if he lived nearby, I'd keep him tied to the bed all night long. I'd have him on his stomach, spread eagle, and I'd fuck him long an hard until I was just on the verge of giving him my load, but then I'd stop and bring in another boy. I'd bend the other boy over so that his cock was close to but not touching Tex, and I'd fuck the other boy until he came all over Tex, then I'd shoot all over Tex without letting him touch my cock, and then the other boy and I would go in the next room and watch TV, leaving Tex tied to the bed with our cum drying on him. Tex was just starting a whimpering sentence about how turned on he was when I flipped the phone shut. Then I waited for the erection to go down and went into Linens and Things to buy a candy thermometer. The markings on my old one were warn out. I'd had it forever.
The finer points of my sexual moral code are endlessly complicated, but the basics are simple. The basic hurdle I have to clear is not to harm anyone and not to do anything to them they don't want done to them. Once that hurdle's cleared, the prime consideration is to increase my own pleasure, and a lesser, but still important consideration is to increase the pleasure of others.
So on a fundamental moral level, the interaction with Tex is all good. He always calls me, so I'm clearly not doing anything he doesn't want to have done to him. I get a significant amount of pleasure from talking to him, and as soon as it's not fun, I hang up. And the worse I treat him, the more he seems to enjoy it, so it's all good.
But I wonder a lot about the finer points. (Or at least I did while I was doing my thermometer shopping: it didn't really require the use of a very large portion of my mind.) Let us suppose, for the sake of this discussion, that I have a giant moral-o-meter that tracks how I'm doing on my personal sexual morality scale. Over to the left is the red zone, where I'm violating my moral code. Then there's the green zone to the right, and then somewhere over at the end is the end of the scale, where I'm morally ideal. With Tex, I'm safely in the green zone, but I wonder how various aspects of my behavior nudge the needle deeper into the green or slightly towards the red. (I apologize to those of you who prefer a quantitative or digital approach, but this is clearly an analog process.)
And then I wonder about Tex' own moral code. His moral code isn't functionally important to me, i.e., it's not likely to affect my own behavior, but I am curious about it. On some level or other, he's almost certainly contravening his own moral code by waiting until his wife's not home so that he can call me while he's got his briefs around his ankles. I reckon that it would be a greater violation if we were actually doing any of the things that we talk about doing, but I'm not sure, and I'm not sure why. If Tex is to be believed (and I can't decide whether he is), he plays with guys occasionally, but he usually tops them. So if I were to tie him to the bed and spank his ass red and then fuck his brains out, would it be worse for him that he was cheating on his wife or worse that he was submitting to a man? I suspect the latter.
I feel like I'm often playing with guys who have to wrestle with their demons. This seems to be the case most often with the younger guys I play with. Sometimes I feel like I'm an addiction they can't beat. I don't, generally speaking, enjoy feeling that way, but I don't really think that much about it, either. I would prefer a world where everyone realizes what he wants sexually and just goes and does it and doesn't beat himself up about it, but that's not going to happen for a couple of reasons. The obvious reasons are that we live in a sexually repressive society and that most guys just aren't mature enough to not be bothered by that repression.
The other reason for all this shame and demon wrestling became clear to me, once again, last Thursday when I said to Tex, "You're a very bad boy, aren't you?" He whimpered more plaintively and excitedly than ever as he said, "Yes, Daddy." People misbehave despite their moral codes, but they also misbehave because of their moral codes. Doing something that you're not supposed to do makes doing it more exciting. I don't know what it is about our psyches that makes this true, and perhaps it ought not be true, but I think its truth is evident.
The allure of the immoral presents some difficulties for me because there's really not that much that I'm not supposed to be doing. I often tell my friends that the downside of an open relationship is that it's impossible to cheat. I can finesse the situation a bit with Tex by talking abusively to him. Abusive talk carries the appearance of a violation of my moral code, and it excites me, but it doesn't, ultimately, violate my code because Tex is willing and because it greatly excites him when I talk to him that way. So it's still fun, but it's maybe not as fun as it would be if I were truly misbehaving. The same dynamic plays itself out with my real-life sexual interactions, especially with submissives. Of course, being truly abusive would violate the fundamental precept of my moral code, so I wouldn't do it; I am, thus, in some sense stuck on the horns of a dilemma. Of course, I so enjoy what I do within my moral parameters that I can't legitimately ask for sympathy just because I'm unable to misbehave and possibly crank the enjoyment up to eleven at the expense of my soul.
But I can't help wonder whether all those guys who don't care so much about the costs to their soul (e.g., Republican politicians) don't to some extent remain in the closet because the secret, forbidden sexual relations are more potent for them. Don't get me wrong: I'm sure that the main reason that GOP Congressmen (and other so-called upstanding conservatives) are so frequently on their knees in men's rooms is that they can't beat their addiction to cock. And I'm sure that on many levels they'd be happier and better adjusted (and less likely to push homophobic legislation) if they could admit who they are and live openly. But I also think that it just isn't their families and reputations they don't want to give up. They don't want to give up the excitement associated with being dirty, dirty boys.
I suppose it's an addiction that I'll never truly be able to enjoy. I suppose that I'll have to console myself with the knowledge that my friends and family love the real me. And with a an exuberant amount of what would be considered dirty, dirty sex by those less enlightened than I.
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