Sunday, November 16, 2008

Report from the Home Front


Being partnered is sometimes a lot of work, especially when you're dealing with someone who's temperamentally your opposite. I don't know whether opposites attract. People will tell you that what you find attractive is what you yourself are lacking, and that's true, except when it isn't. The two things I find most important in a partner are decency and intellectual horsepower, and I think those items are things that I also possess in reasonable amounts. Finding a guy who's both decent and smart enough is so hard that it seems foolish to be any more particular, but you'd have a hard time convincing me that b&c and I are happier because we're otherwise so different. In particular, he's very mercurial while I'm very composed, and he's very talkative most of the time where I'd mostly prefer to listen and sip my wine. It's not so much that I mind talking as that I often don't see the point in stating the obvious. And sometimes I get distracted.


Anyway, the only thing b&c seems to have trouble talking about is sex, which is something I don't mind talking about at all. When you have a situation where one partner gets very worked up about sex but has trouble talking about it while the other partner has no trouble whatsoever talking about it but doesn't get worked up about it and often doesn't see the point in stating the obvious, communication can get complicated. I got home Friday afternoon, and I wasn't in the greatest of moods. I'd gotten up very early in order to make an early morning meeting, and I was feeling some strain from having to cancel a number of rendezvous because of b&c's trip to Algeria having been canceled. And I was going to have a short talk with him about how we needed to deal with the inequity in our situations; namely, that he gets to spend all day chasing cock while I pretty much only get to play with others when he leaves town. But first, I had to start a double batch of biscotti that I needed to take to the church bazaar bake sale the next morning, so I toasted some almonds and made up the dough and put both trays in the oven for the first baking, setting the timer to 18 minutes so that I could rotate the trays halfway through the first baking. Then I headed upstairs for the talk, but when I got there, I heard the shower running, and then a minute or two later, b&c finished drying himself off and came out of the bathroom, and, well, I got distracted.


I didn't get undressed, though, because I still had my biscotti in the oven. We made out for a while and then I went down on him briefly and then we made out for a while longer and then I sprang out of bed to run downstairs and switch the pans and reset the timer. When I got back upstairs, he had on his boxer briefs, which seemed a little silly. I mean, he looks cute in them and all, but it's not like they were going to stay on. We went back to making out and some moderate nipple play, and I played with his ass some and then sucked on kissed him and twisted both nipples while he played with himself until he came. The timer had been going off for a couple of minutes by the time he shot, but I'd factored that in, so when I sprang out of the bed again, washed my hands, and ran downstairs, the proto-biscotti were just ready to come out from the first baking.


Later that evening, when I'd finished baking the biscotti and some orange mocha meringues and some peanut butter cookies, but I hadn't started coating the lebkuchen with dark chocolate yet, I got multiple texts from Nike. B&c was in bed already, and he said he didn't want to join in, so I played with Nike in one of the other bedrooms. It was ninety minutes that I should have spent on baking, but it was pretty hot. Nike was very worked up, and I made him a good deal more worked up before I finally fucked him. I reckon he's been practicing with that dildo I loaned him because he didn't seem to have too much trouble taking my cock this time. It still seemed a little bit mentally overwhelming to him, but he'll learn, I guess.


I was up until about 4 am Saturday morning then up again at 9 to go to church. B&c hadn't slept well because his leg was bothering him, so we were both pretty wiped by Saturday afternoon. My buddy Jeff called to ask whether we wanted to meet him and his boyfriend for a movie and dinner in Columbia, so we arranged a time, but when we got there, it turned out I'd been wrong about the movie time and we were almost an hour early. Because we were so tired, we decided to just have dinner and skip the movie, and then we came home and collapsed. B&c seemed pretty grumpy, but I chalked it up to fatigue and some remaining disappointment over his trip cancellation. When I got home from church this afternoon, he was being all grumpy again, but I decided to ignore him, and he finally told me that he was upset because we hadn't had sex in nearly a week.


This came as a bit of a surprise to me. I'd fucked him on Monday and I'd made him cum on Friday. On Tuesday and Wednesday, he'd dragged me to the opera, and on Thursday I'd worked in the morning, baked in the afternoon, and sang at choir practice in the evening. I mentioned Friday, and he said that it didn't count because he didn't get fucked. My eyebrows may have risen noticeably because he started to stammer that he only likes one thing: a lot of foreplay, being fucked, and cuddling. Which really strikes me as three things, but I suppose if you want all of them in the same session it could be construed as one very specific thing. Anyway, I was a bit incredulous: "Let me get this straight. You would rather get fucked and not cum than cum without getting fucked." "Right." "You don't care if you don't actually get off?" "No." "Damn. Bottoms are weird."


But if that's what he likes, that's what he likes, right? I mean, it's not like he's making me piss on him or anything. I can't imagine only liking one particular sequence of activities, but chacun à son goût, I reckon. So I finished washing the dishes and then I got behind him and messed with him in the kitchen for a while and then we went upstairs where -- preceded by significant foreplay and followed by a lengthy cuddle during which I fell asleep -- I fucked him. It was swell.

In a way, it's odd that we've not had this discussion before. On the other hand, I always knew that he loved getting fucked, and that's what we do almost all the time anyway, so I guess it just didn't come up. I don't know that I find very specific vanilla tastes any less odd than very specific kinky tastes, but the vanilla is certainly easier to gratify. Besides, it would seem that I don't ever have to go down on him again. Who could ask for anything more?

1 comment:

The Blackout Blog said...

That is strange that that hasn't come up yet. I'm definitely noticing that some of the 40-something guys that I've had sex with with in the last year want to get fucked and seem to not care about cumming at all.

I think it's kind of magical.