Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The Calm Before


We were expecting a massive snowstorm this past weekend (it showed up), and I reckoned on spending Saturday and most of Sunday snowbound, so I thought I should try to hook up Friday night. I'd meant to play with a guy who'd been wanting to meet me for some time, but we'd exchanged numbers, and I'd called him, as he'd asked, during the day on Friday to firm up the evening's arrangements, and I hadn't gotten a call back. So I posted on craigslist. I got a response from Tom, a sexually repressed guy whom I've played with several times in the past, before the move, and whom I regard as something of a project: I'll get him out of his shell yet. I was chatting with my buddy Angelo when Tom said he'd come over. Angelo said he was supposed to have a date, but his date didn't answer when he called, so I asked whether he'd like to come for a group and then have dinner afterwards. He seemed excited by the idea, and accepted.

And then Anthony, the guy who hadn't returned my call, returned my call to say that he'd left his phone at home that day. I told him that I had some other matters to attend to but that we could meet around 9, and he said that would work. Another scheduling crisis averted.

Tom had said fifteen minutes, and Angelo lives farther away than that, but I figured Tom hadn't counted on traffic, so I wasn't particularly surprised when Tom arrived a couple of minutes after Angelo. (When the two of them were confirmed, I texted Pedro to see if he wanted to join us, and he got back to me as the two of them were walking up the stairs to the bedroom to say that there wasn't enough time. Later he texted me to say that he wanted to be included in future threeways, but he'd appreciate more notice. I told him I didn't always know that far in advance. I left unsaid that I'm not inclined to go out of my way for him: he's hot, but he seems to think that I'm his madam or something.) I made the introductions, kissed each of them, and marched them up the stairs.


I was the first on the bed. Angelo was quickly naked and joined me, and Tom, not surprisingly, just watched for a bit until I told him to suck my cock, which he did. Angelo is a great kisser, and he has a very fun Latin bear body, so I was alternating between his lips and nips for a while. Eventually, I started to kiss Tom, and then I told him to suck my cock, which is what he wanted to hear, I think. It's a little bit hard to tell with him since he seems dogmatically opposed to expressing desires. Anyway, after a while, I pulled Tom on top of me and started kissing him again, and Angelo started to eat his ass, and then maybe -- my view was obstructed, and I was busy kissing -- Angelo tried to fuck Tom and Tom sort of waved him off, but maybe they just moved around a bit and, yikes, there went the bed.

See, when I moved, I had my old queen bed disassembled and moved and reassembled, and I don't think the movers did a great job of getting all of the barrel bolts lined up just right, but for whatever reason, instead of being plumb, the side supports of the bed are closer together at the top than at the bottom, so the ledges on which the slats that make the platform sit are farther apart than they ought to be, and if there's a lot of rocking, the ledges move even slightly farter apart and the slats move back and forth until they fall, loudly, off one of the ledges. This, unsurprisingly, never fails to make an impression upon whoever happens to be sharing the bed with me at the time. I'm sort of used to it by now, though, so I just shooed everyone off the bed, lifted the mattress, rested it on top of my back, moved the slats far enough to one side to get them back onto the ledge and then back to the middle so they wouldn't fall a second time during the same session, and corralled everyone back onto the bed. Well, everyone except for Tom, who started to get dressed, asked me whether I'd split up with b&c, and said "I'll see you," as he departed.


Angelo looked at me and said, "Is he always like that?" and I replied, "Yeah, pretty much. He gets overwhelmed easily. He's a long-term project," and then we started making out again. Before the bed collapse, we'd been playing for a pretty long time, anyway, and much of that time had consisted of my sucking on Angelo's nipple and stroking his cock until he was right on the verge of orgasm. Angelo's always been something of a quick shooter, so it never takes long to bring him to the verge, and I'd managed to keep him there for maybe half an hour before the big bang, so I really didn't feel like I needed to delay his cumshot much longer. Besides, I needed to move things along if we were going to have dinner and I was still going to have time to get back home for my 9 o'clock.

But afer I started back on Angelo's nipples, he took a long hit from the popper bottle (which Tom may have brought and left: I found it after the session was over when I was walking around the bedroom and accidentally kicked it across the floor and into my closet, where it sits to this day) and overdid it so that some of the liquid got into his sinus, or whatever, and he had to run out of the room and make hurling sounds (I'm not sure whether he actually hurled) in the bathroom. It sounded like not so much fun, really.

When he came back, I figured it was time to make him shoot, but I did take a minute to eat his ass first, though, because I know how much he likes that. Then I started sucking on his nipple again while I stroked him until he shook and jerked and shot. The bed held, but I had barely wiped up the cum when he had to jump up and go try again to expel the extra poppers from his sinuses. He returned from the bathroom with tears of exertion on his face. I tried to comfort him, but he had to make two more trips to the bathroom in short order, and then he apologized saying that he'd really wanted to have dinner but that he would have to go home instead. Ordinarily, I'd have been disappointed, but I did have the other guy coming in less than two hours, and I knew that it would be really convenient if I could squeeze in a trip to Costco before that. So I did.


I got home just after 9, and Anthony arrived perhaps ten minutes later. He's a fit, early fifties Black man, and he was a lot of fun. I was a little bit tired from the day, but he had really nice lips, so I revived quickly as soon as we started kissing, which was as soon as he got in the door. I maneuvered him up the stairs, out of his clothes, and onto the bed, and we made out for an extended period. Anthony is, I believe, versatile, and he's not submissive, and he didn't seem especially interested in anything other than kissing and oral -- though he didn't seem to mind having his ass eaten -- and that was fine with me. After maybe forty-five minutes of foreplay and some alternating oral, we got into one of the very rare, for me, sixty-nines where I'm sucking the other guy's cock -- rather than eating his ass -- while he's sucking mine. It didn't take long for Anthony to cum, and he shot a pretty good load on my chest as I sucked on his nuts, but my load was significantly more voluminous and forceful when I finally brought myself off by hand, while he lay next to me and we kissed.

He got cleaned up and left. By that time, the snow was beginning to fall in earnest, though it hadn't made the roads difficult yet, and I figured that Gil, the nipple-abuse-loving submissive who'd said that he'd come over on Saturday afternoon would be cancelling, but I also thought that I might not really be missing much. As it happens, I was wrong on both counts, but I reckon that is another story.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Hotter Tuesday


As Tuesday afternoon drew to a close, I was wondering whether Vim would put me off again. I was hoping that he wouldn't since that would mean either going home and having a quiet evening or going home and looking for sex, and we all know which of those I'd choose. Looking for sex often ends up in a really good time, as it had on Monday, but there is always an off chance that I won't find anyone suitable. Also, given how much fun Vim had been, there was the likelihood that whoever I ended up with would be not as much fun as he, perhaps by a large margin. I would estimate the probability of finding no one at all to be about 10%. And, assuming a successful hookup, I would estimate the level of enjoyment to be normally distributed around a mean of 50% as much fun as Vim, so if the expected value Vim is 1.0, the expected value of not-Vim would be only about 0.45. It is probably just as well that I only think of expected value calculations long after the fact. When I'm in the middle of a two-star encounter, I'm just having a lot of fun, and it's only a two-star counter after the fact. I blame the follow-up analysis on a secondary and post-secondary education that over-emphasized quantitative methods.

Anyway, I called Vim around 6, and he said that he was in the middle of his commute and would be home around 7, and he would greatly appreciate twenty minutes of post-arrival, pre-coital time. He may not have said it exactly like that. In any case, I told him I'd see him around 7:30, and he said that would be fine.


I got to his place just before 7:30, but apparently he had only just arrived, because after I kissed him at the door and followed him into the bedroom and watched him undress and let him undress me and kissed him some more and sucked on his nipples until we were both gasping, he leaped up from the bed and said, "I'm really sorry, but I haven't eaten anything all day, and I'm starving," and, well, he's the sort of person who cannot do anything without being adorable, so I smiled and relaxed for a minute, and when he returned, he tasted of sweet potato pie.

So, in addition to being only 24, Vim is only 5'4, and he weighs only 125 pounds, so when, some time later, he insisted on riding me, I could definitely feel my cock being gripped in the most pleasant of ways, but without having to support any additional weight. It must be what it's like to fuck a fleshlight, only I'm guessing that's a lot less fun, just because almost everything is a lot less fun than fucking Vim.

The things that are not less fun than fucking Vim include making out with him and, most notably, eating his ass. And probably having him go down on me, though much more so when the him-going-down-on-me thing is combined with the my-eating-his-ass thing. Anyway, before the fucking and after the initial making out and the sweet potato pie, I kissed him and then sucked on his nipples until he could no longer resist leaping up and either a) going down on me (three times) or b) getting more pie (once). And then, on the third time around, I finally pulled him around so that I could shove my tongue into him while twisting his nipples. I did that until he sat up, and then I did it some more until he asked if I would fuck him. I would. I did.

We started out with him on top, facing me and bouncing up and down while I reached up and played with his nipples. He never likes what I'd call rough nipple play, but when he's being fucked, he asks for them to be pulled more firmly, and, hey, I'm a guest, I do what I'm told.

We fucked in a lot of positions and for a long time, and we both liked every one. Typically, my favorite was with him on his back. He's very flexible, so I could grab his calves and push his feet down over his head and get a really good angle on his prostate. In that position, most guys seem entirely overwhelmed with some combination of either pain or more sensation than they can process and sheer pleasure, but Vim's pleasure was unalloyed. He turned his head and closed his eyes, and smiled the sort of smile that you hope you'll see all the time in heaven. Bliss. Bliss is very intoxicating, so I kept pounding him for a long time.

Eventually I needed a break and he needed more pie, and then we resumed with him back sitting on my cock, but I felt surfeited with pleasure, so I lay next to him and we kissed, and I played with his nipples and, eventually, I grabbed his cock and began to stroke him while sucking his nipple and, after what seemed like a highly appropriate interval, he said, "You're going to make me cum," and I said, "I know."


And, of course, after that, there's always the post-coital let down, but there wasn't. We kissed for a while, and he smiled, and he eventually grabbed a towel and cleaned the ejaculate off himself, and we chatted about his (many, many) food allergies, and he went for another piece of pie, whose crust, apparently, was made with millet and spelt and something else, and he lay back down and ate it, and his skin is smooth and dark, and it glows, so the crumbs of the crust were apparent upon it, and I sucked them quickly off his skin, whereupon it became clear that he is highly ticklish.

He was telling me about his boyfriend and saying that we should probably finish up because he was hungry and he had to cook because he was too lazy to dress and go out, and he ended up telling me about a very good Indian restaurant in Silver Spring that I had not previously heard of, and I said that perhaps we could go there some evening after sex, and he said why not now, so we went. The food was great, and so was the company: he converses nearly as attractively as he smiles. It's just as well that he has a boyfriend; otherwise, I might become infatuated with him, especially since he seems very eager to have me come back, and I will not get attached to anyone so young.

I am not accustomed to being so attracted to youth, and given how much of my sexual activity and interest still revolves around men my age and older, I don't think it's Vim's youth that attracts me so much as his intelligence and smile and lips and nipples and ass (not in that order, but they're all really nice), and probably the fact that he's already attached. But there is something about the young, right? I mean, that something -- the innocence, the glow -- is generally overmatched by all of the annoyances that accompany immaturity, but in the rare case when they're not, and you've just had incredible sex with a guy who subsequently introduces you to an awesome Indian restaurant, and you're sated on lust and lamb saag, and you've had to ask for the checks because your very charming and perhaps even more sated companion is falling asleep while smiling at you, and you leave the restaurant, and he leaps up the parking garage steps two at a time, with a lightness and grace surely borrowed from some young gazelle, well, maybe you've had the best hook-up ever.

Or at least the best hook-up so far. I'm still young, after all.

Hot Monday


So: Monday. It was Monday, and I was supposed to hook up with Vim, the super-cute young Black guy whom I'd met on Friday in a somewhat truncated hook-up. I'd said around 7 but that I'd call first, and when I called at 6:15, he said he was in the middle of his commute and that he wouldn't be home by then, and could we do it later, like possibly 7:30. Or ish. And that was cool with me, but then maybe five minutes later, he called again and said that he had to pick up something for his mother, but that he'd be home and available by 9:15, if I wanted to play, and I really didn't fancy going down to Fort Totten that late on a Monday night. It would surely mean not getting home before midnight.

I decided not to invest the intellectual and/or emotional energy necessary to assess whether Vim was playing games with me. He'd seemed sincere, and after a very brief discussion, the upshot had been him saying that he'd see me Tuesday night. I headed home, thinking that maybe it was a good night to get caught up on housework or read a book and go to bed early, but as soon as I sat down at the computer to check email, I felt the urge to at least put some lines in the water. I sent a text message to Gil. Gil is a local submissive whom I still haven't met. If we can ever align our schedules, then I'm thinking he may turn out to be a great fuckbuddy for occasional rough dom/sub play, but a) that may require an upgrade on my bed frame, and b) I'm not sure I'm ever going to see any return on the (admittedly small) investment that I've already put into the Gil project. Not surprisingly, when I was posting a craigslist ad (and, to be honest, I was posting it without much conviction) and checking out some other sites, Gil texted back to say that he wasn't available. Or, in his words:
ted amd riving back from kent county. guys from work in truck w me. cant talk but xox work me in later this week? ?

A book and bed was looking pretty good.


I got a message, on a site that specializes in the over-forty crowd, from a guy who's screen name included something very similar to "CDLucy," and I thought, a) oh hell no, b) why do so many cross-dressers self-identify as Lucy? c) he does not make an attractive woman, d) does it have something to do with Lucy Van Pelt? e) Joe Lieberman is really a douchebag, and f) sigh. The sigh being my politeness kicking in. I hate to leave even the most inappropriate of offers unrespondedto, so I sent a message thanking Ms. Van Pelt for her offer, but telling her that I am really not into cross-dressers. The bed and book stock continued to rise.

After rejecting a couple of unpromising responses to my CL ad, I saw that Lucy had sent me another message, wherein he informed me that a) he was travelling and so did not have his lady clothes with him, b) he could not, in any event, pass as a woman, and c) he really, really liked to kiss. So I checked the stats, which all looked good, and called the phone number he'd left. He sounded like a pretty cool guy, and he was staying at a hotel that is only a short drive from my house, so I said I could come over, and he gave me the room number.


Jon, as we must now called him, answered the door wearing only a pair of jeans, and it was a very good choice. It's always one of my favorite looks, and his were just loose enough to show off a tan line and a hint of asscrack, and, as is so often the case, I could not -- and, in fact, did not -- resist the urge to grab him and kiss him. Yum. I did not stop kissing him, but I did make a mental note that most men do look much better as men. And then I made a second mental note to the effect of but I don't judge. It is not the first time that I have made either of those mental notes, but some things bear repeating, particularly if you can repeat them mentally without stopping the lip locking action.

I worked on Jon's nipples some, but I concentrated on the kissing for a while, throwing in the occasional wrist-grab-and-pin-over-his-head combo which drives a lot of the bottoms, especially the sub or semi-sub ones, wild. We had gotten a bit of a late start for a Monday, and I figured he was in something of a hurry when he rushed to get my pants off and go down on me. He murmured something about how he hadn't had a cock in a while and something else about how big mine was, but he had pretty good fellatory technique, so I didn't listen all that closely. I did, after a while, pull him up and start kissing him again, and we went through three rounds of the make out/blow job tango before I pulled his legs around so that I could eat his ass.

He'd been somewhat reserved (though he certainly didn't complain) when I'd worked on his nipples, but the reserve evaporated when I went in for the ass eat. Fortunately, he didn't let it get in the way of sucking my cock, so I kept at it for a while. We were on our second go-round of that when he opined that he had never taken a cock as thick as mine, but that he would certainly like to try.


Can I just say that I've been through this all many times, and it always sounds the same from both the other guy and from me. My contribution typically consists of "hmmm" and "yeah" and "relax," and the other guy's dialog is always something along the lines of "Oh, I want that cock. Oh it's so thick I'm not sure I can take it. Uhhhh. Go slow. Slow. I can't take it. I want to, but I just can't. Slow, please. Ohhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhh. Yeah, fuck me. Fuck me. FUCK ME!

It's always exactly the same.

And it never gets old.

Anyway, for someone who wasn't going to be able to take my cock, Jon certainly took a hard plowing in a number of positions. He was really tight, though, and I came while I was fucking him. I used to say that almost never happens, but looking back, it seems like it happens nearly one-fifth of the time. Anyway, I was feeling terrific, and he seemed not to need anything else, but I kept kissing him and working his nipples, harder now and with more positive feedback, and eventually he started stroking himself, and he came with an impressive amount of intensity.

And then it was late and he said that he had an early meeting in the morning, so I got dressed and he told me that he's in construction management and will be back in the area in a week to do an inspection of a site and really wants me to fuck him again. He also told me that he never travels with his CD paraphernalia because he doesn't want to be embarrassed if airport security finds it. It seemed to me that that problem could be easily dealt with, but I didn't particularly want to encourage him to bring back women's clothing when he returns to town. It would turn me off; besides, he would make one hell of an ugly woman.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Interruptus


So it's Friday, and I'm in my office, and it's kind of a slow day anyway, and nobody's around, and I happen to find myself on craigslist, where a young, Black, short, smooth man in D.C. has advertised for someone to do to him something that I would very much like to do, and I answer the ad, and he says that he's not sure there's enough time after I get off work, and I say that I get off work whenever I feel like it at this time of year, but I have to be done by 5, and it's almost 3:30, and he's not that far away, but there's traffic, and I'm not sure it's such a good idea, but then he says that he likes to make out, and I'm printing out directions and leaving the office, and then I'm swearing at the traffic, and I'm making up the route as I go along, and it's just after 4, and I'm knocking on Vim's door, and then I'm walking in, and oh my God he's so cute, and I grab him, and he was not lying about liking to make out.

Then we say hi, and I follow Vim to the bedroom, and I'm liking his hardwood floors with his clothes strewn everywhere, and he apologizes for the mess, but I tell him it's no worse than my place, and I kiss him some more, and he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and I realize we're on a tight schedule, so I undress mostly, and he comes back, and I undress him entirely, and I put him down on the bed and climb on top of him, and we make out some more.

Vim's very thin but with very pronounced nipples, and later he tells me that when he was eleven, his nipples were equally pronounced, and he was worried about developing breasts, but then he didn't, and that's probably a good thing because they really wouldn't go well with his cock, which is not exactly small. But before that, I work my way down to his nipples, and I lick them and suck on them, and bite them, and he says, "Ow," and I lick them and suck on them, and he's very happy, and then we make out some more, and then he decides to go down on me, and, damn, he's got skills.


And then we make out some more, and then he goes down on me again, and I pull his ass around so that I can eat it, and, damn, I've got skills, and he totally loses his focus and sits up straight, and I reach up and twist his nipples while I'm eating his ass, and that goes on and on, and then he asks whether he can ride me, and who am I to say no to an eminently reasonable request like that? Except that I eat his ass some more, and he loses focus again, and then his phone rings, and he ignores it, but it rings again, and he answers it, and it's his office with some sort of emergency, and he asks me if I can hang out for fifteen minutes while he deals with it, but, damn, it's getting really close to five, and he feels bad for leaving me high and dry, but all that ass eating has left me feeling like I've had an eight-course meal, so I just really can't get worked up about the lack of ass fucking, and it's never as much fun as the ass eating, anyway, and he goes to make his call, and I get dressed, and I'm worried that I'll be late to pick up YFU, and I'm trying to say goodbye, and he puts the call on hold to kiss me goodbye and thank me for the nipple work and ask me when I can see him again, and I don't know or care whether he's sincere about that, but later that evening there's a call from him, and he says he wants to see me another time, and he makes me promise not to leave next time until after I've fucked him, and it's a promise I can make without fear of not keeping it, so I do.


Elmo's this cute Filipino guy who hit me up on one of the hook-up sites almost a week ago, but I wasn't available then, and I knew I wouldn't be available over the weekend until Sunday late afternoon, so last Tuesday or so, we agreed to meet late Sunday afternoon. And we talked a couple of times after that, but there was a slight difficulty with language, and I wasn't entirely sure that he was going to follow through. But I'd said that I'd play with him, so when I got a couple of other offers from guys that I really would have liked to play with, or play with again (as the case may be), I turned them down. And then 4:00 on Sunday came and went, and I didn't hear from Elmo, so I texted the one of the other guys who lives relatively close by, but he didn't get back to me right away, even though there'd been an email from him at about 3:30. And then I get a call from EFU:

EFU: Turnpike!
TED: You're on the New Jersey Turnpike?
EFU: Yeah, you said to give you a call when I was on the way.
TED: You couldn't have called from Vermont?
EFU: I'm spontaneous. Will you be home?
TED: Um, I'm not sure.
EFU: You need to be home.
TED: I thought you were going to go to your mother's house first.
EFU: I can't. Houdini's not welcome there.
TED: Who's Houdini?
EFU: My friend.
TED: Your friend? Do I need to come up with another bed?
EFU: Houdini has his own bed.
TED: What?
EFU: He's a hedgehog.
TED: Your mother won't let you bring a stuffed hedgehog home with you?
EFU: He's not stuffed. And he needs to be kept warm.
TED: You bought a real hedgehog?
EFU: Yeah, it's a surprise.
TED: Well, I'm surprised. I'll try to be home, but call me when you're closer.
EFU: OK, I'll call you when I get to the Beltway.


And then it occurred to me that I didn't know where my spare house key is, so maybe I'd better go to Home Depot and cruise guys get some spare keys made, but before I left, I called up Vim, and I left a message. Then I set off to Home Depot, and when I was about halfway there, Vim called back and asked when I was free, and I told him Monday or Tuesday evening were best, and he said he was free then but that he was also free RIGHT NOW, and didn't I want to come down RIGHT NOW and fuck him? And, oh boy howdy, I did, but I had to get the keys made, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get down to his place, fuck him properly, and get back before EFU showed up with her hedgehog, so I very reluctantly put him off until Monday (which didn't work out: men, oy), and then I went and stood in line and got keys made and bought key chains and went to the self-checkout, where my phone rang, and it was Elmo who said that he was at Metro Center and on his way out to Glenmont. I told him to call me when he got there, and I finished paying, and I drove home, and I took a shower, and I got back in the car, and I drove to Glenmont, and he came out of the escalator, and he got in the car.

Elmo said that he'd been up since 4am taking someone to the airport, etc., etc., and he couldn't kiss me until he brushed his teeth. I got lucky when I found a spare unopened toothbrush at home, and he brushed his teeth, and boy howdy does that boy like to make out.


I had explained to him in the car that EFU was on her way home, but that she was probably still an hour or two away and would call when she was close, and he was all, "And your daughters know that you're gay?" I guess life is different in the Philippines. Anyway, we're making out, and he's a terrific kisser, but he also keeps stopping to ask me questions and tell me things and worry that EFU will be home too soon and jump whenever my phone makes a noise (it's a text message from the guy I'd texted earlier, and it says that he's an idiot -- duh -- because he just now checked his message), and the only way to shut him up is to suck on his nipples, which really drives him around the bend. He tells me that he doesn't want me to fuck him this time, and I tell him that's fine, but he's going down on me (skills!) for the second time, maybe sixty minutes into the session because there's so much making out (that's really, really, really not a complaint), and I pull him around and start to eat his very smooth, very nice ass, and he goes totally nuts and tells me not to do that because if I do, he won't be able to stop from sitting on my cock. I tell him that's a risk I'll just have to take because I can't stop from eating his ass, and I point to the condoms, and I go back to eating his ass, and, what do you know, he wasn't lying about having to sit on my ass, and he's bouncing up and down, and just then a couple of the slats from under the bed fall off the support, and I keep going, but then we lose another one, and I have to fix the bed, and he begs me to come back to bed, and I finish fixing the bed, and I lie back down, and he rides me again, and then the phone rings, and it's EFU's ring, so I have to pick it up, and she says she's half an hour away, and I tell her I'll be home, and I put Elmo on his back and push his legs forward, and I start to fuck him that way while I play with his nipples, and he's going crazy, and I keep fucking him, but I realize that I'm not going to cum that way, so I pull out, and we make out, and I work his nipples, and he's all wound up, and I tell him that we should probably stop and get dressed, and we do, and then we make out some more, and then there's a knock on the door, and we go downstairs, and he gets to meet EFU and Houdini, who is a very, very cute hedgehog.

And then I drive Elmo home, and he makes me promise that the next time we get together, I'll fuck him until I cum, and I'm never sure that's a promise I can keep, but after an extended kiss goodbye in his driveway, I make it anyway.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

We Will Extend a Hand if You Are Willing To Unclench Your Fist


Because of the weekend's shenanigans, I arrived at Monday having had no more than four hours of sleep during any of the previous three nights. I was so tired that I could barely stay awake on the drive home, so I determined to sleep rather than hook up. And I succeeded, though I did spend a fair amount of time on the phone with an excessively cute Filipino guy who seems interesting. It's a tiny bit, but not very, difficult to resist the urge to couple in a manner that lasts longer than a few hours, but then I always remember that I'm just not used to living alone again yet, and the urge passes. Still, I flirt with guys who are safe, like the cute Filipino guy who's only here on an extended vacation, or the partnered hottie in Alexandria, or the partnered sub from Baltimore. None of those guys is available, so there's no danger associated with an explicit email or phone conversation.

Anyway, I did manage to get to sleep by about 11 on Monday. I really must have been tired. I'd lugged my old TV upstairs and dug through boxes to find the DVD player and put on the second of the Bourne movies (I got a box set at the office holiday party exchange earlier in the evening, but I dropped off at the end. I think maybe Jason Bourne went to Moscow, and there may have been a car chase, but I wouldn't swear to either.

There's this guy who'd been wanting to meet me for a few weeks, and since he's going to be moving to Silver Spring and seemed like he might be a fun guy to hang out with, I invited him over on Tuesday night. As happens so often with hook-up scheduling, after I'd agreed to meet him Tuesday, a couple (well, three, actually) of more loin-stirring opportunities came up, but I really try not to play that game, so I told the other guys that I wasn't available. Ron (who, it should be said, was perfectly suitable for hooking up with; the other guys just had particular characteristics that would have revved me up slightly or somewhat more) was coming via Metro, and I told him that I'd pick him up at the station.


There were a couple of calls when he was on his way, and I realized the problem with my master plan: living near a Metro station is better than living five miles farther out in the exurbs, but to a guy living in DC, living in Glenmont is still pretty much the middle of nowhere. Oh well. I still like the neighborhood, and it's convenient to the places I have to get to. Anyway, I retrieved Ron from the Kiss and Ride and drove him to my place. He touched me lightly in well-chosen places on the very short drive back, and when we got inside, we began to make out. He had the sort of lips that are unfortunately common on white men, but he had very good technique. Few men are wise enough to go in occasionally for the passionate, open-lipped but tongueless kiss.

After a minute of kissing, during which time I determined that the evening was likely to be pleasant and comfortable rather than red hot, we went upstairs. I lowered him to the bed, and we made out for another couple of minutes. He needed to visit the bathroom, and I used the time to unbutton.

I'd forgotten to re-read the listing that originally brought Ron to my attention, so I was going merely on memory, which indicated that he was versatile. But I didn't think that we'd discussed nipple play or intensity or anything, so I was figuring that I should be gentle and vanilla. He did nothing to abuse me of this notion (real nipple pigs always ask for harder work), so while I got a little more intense, I didn't really go after them, even though he had the sort of moderately furry chest that I often associate with craving intense nip play. [I should rethink that. Guy #5 from the weekend, who got to about a 9, had a moderately furry chest, but the other 9 who springs to mind was smooth as a baby's bottom.] Anyway, we kept returning to the kissing, and it kept feeling very nice and very comfortable, and that was a nice thing after all of the intensity of the weekend.


As it happened, Ron was versatile, or at least orally versatile, because when he went down on me, and he took me so cleanly that I wondered whether he'd somehow lost his teeth (which, for the record, were not the removable sort, or at least I assume they weren't: not many guys in their late forties wear dentures these days), and I remarked, "Wow, your technique is so much better than mine." He said, "Let's find out," so I returned the favor. Fortunately, he had a very suckable cock: thinner and shorter than average, so it wasn't hard to do an adequate job with it.

Things continued along a predictable track, but when, after I'd eaten his ass for a while and he'd gone down on me again and I'd eaten his ass while he was going down on me (hey, I said it was a predictable track), he started to sit on my ass, the intensity suddenly ratcheted up a few notches. The boy likes to be fucked. He liked it when he was riding me, and he liked it when he lay on his stomach and I pounded him from behind and on top, and he really liked it -- loudly -- when I put him on his back and bent him so that I could pound the right spot.

But fifteen minutes of that was enough for me, and we went back to kissing while I jerked myself off to an intense and voluminous ejaculation that was nonetheless slightly less intense and voluminous than usual. But fun and very, very comfortable and nice.


I almost fell asleep after that. We were at opposite ends of the bed, and I was absent-mindedly stroking his legs while he played with himself, and I don't think I actually started snoring or anything, but it got very low key until he asked me how many fingers I'd had up his ass before I started to fuck him, and I told him it had been four (two on each hand, for the record), and he said that he'd had four fingers up his ass before, but he'd always wanted to go for five, and could I maybe help him out with that. So I got some more lube, and he took a hit on his poppers. He had an exceptionally pliant (though plenty tight) hole, and it was really not hard to get my five fingers and flattened palm partway into him. I couldn't get the fist clenched, and when I rotated my hand, he asked me to go easy on him, and it still seemed very relaxed, which -- as you might well guess -- is unusual for a fisting or even a near-fisting. And then suddenly, he started to get really loud, and I felt his ass clamping down on my hand over and over and over again, and he came like -- assuming the noise he made and what he told me afterwards were valid indications -- he had never come before. Intense. And fun.

Then I was awake, of course, but it was over. He'd been there nearly two hours, and he had to hurry to catch a train, so he jumped in the shower, and I washed my hands, and we got dressed, and I drove him back to the Metro station. Sadly, during the drive, he took the opportunity to complain about his tax problems and his tax accountant, and his stock plummeted, but nobody's perfect. Besides, it'll be a couple of months before he moves to Silver Spring, and how many comfortably cuddly cubbish guys who like to be fisted do I know, anyway?

Monday, December 7, 2009

Five Pairs of Nipples


One man's poison is another man's drug, I guess. I was near the first and worst of this past weekend's five hookups, when, apparently, I got a little bit too aggressive with the nip play on the married submissive wannabe who froze and said that he wasn't as into it as he'd expected to be. I wasn't as into it as I'd hoped to be, but I'd done a pretty good job keeping that to myself. He put his clothes on and left, apologizing, but there was already a text message from Pedro asking whether I would like some company, so even if I had been of a mind to be annoyed (unlikely) by a flaky married guy with an unfortunate haircut (unlikely), there wouldn't have been time.

I was probably only at a level three on the nip-o-meter with that guy, anyway. Contrariwise, on Sunday afternoon, I was thinking to myself -- as I was working a solid eight-trending-towards-nine on the nips of the last and best playmate of the weekend -- "Damn, this kid's got talent," when he interrupted me and started to ask a question that made me interrupt him with "Too much?" only to have him say, "Oh, no, not at all. I was just wondering whether I should say 'yellow' or something if it gets to be too much." I laughed and said, "You could just tell me that it's too much" before biting down again and earning the moan of the contentedly anguished. It was hard to leave those nipples behind, but he was such a good kisser, even with his thin lips, that I sometimes had to. That guy was an embarrassment of riches, really. I'm afraid that I gave him a pair of nearly identical underarm hickeys before sending him back to his partner of eighteen years, who is a very fortunate man.


Hookup #3 of the weekend was a lot of fun in the sack, but he was some combination of inebriated and, well, not so bright, so that I had to spend about fifteen minutes on the phone with him talking him in from less than 0.2 miles away. My part of the conversation went something like, "You're where? No, you went too far. Make a U-turn, then come back a block and a half. My house is the one with the small, enclosed front porch that has a light on. Yes, stay on Randolph. No! You've gone too far. You're where? No, I'm on RANDOLPH. No, turn around, then get back to Randolph. Yes. Now make a left turn. Where are you now? Ok, now make a U-turn. I'll be on the right when you come back. It's the house before the house with the for rent sign. Yes, you can park in the driveway. You really should be here by now. You're where? No. You've gone too far again. Get back on Randolph. Yes, take a left. Now go down to the second left, make a U-turn, and DO NOT go farther than one block. Yes. I can see you. I'm in THE ONLY HOUSE WITH A PORCH LIGHT ON AT TWO IN THE MORNING. No. I CAN SEE YOU. I'M STANDING ON THE PORCH. YOU'RE HERE. NO, STOP! BACK UP. YES. PARK BEHIND MY CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY." Except it was twice as long. I don't know, maybe he was just trying to get me worked up so that I'd be rougher on him. Maybe it worked, but he really could just have said, "I like it rough." Why do people have so much trouble saying that? There are five sets of sore nipples wandering around Maryland this morning because of my weekend activities, and only one of those sets of nipples got that way by admitting that it was what their owner wanted.

I stayed up really late this weekend playing with various guys. Guy #4 called me at 3:30 am Saturday night/Sunday morning, and after we'd talked a bit, he said that he wanted to come over. He was coming from the Chinatown area of DC, so I expected him to be about an hour, what with showering and all, but he hadn't shown up by 4:45, so I turned off the lights and sent him an email of complaint and went to bed. At 5:15, my phone rang again, and he said he had arrived but was having trouble finding the house. At this point it occurred to me that maybe I am playing too much with guys who require the lessening of inhibitions associated with a) late night and/or b) striking out at the bars before they're willing to actually hook up with someone. Guy #4 seemed like the type never to go to a bar, so it was probably just the late night and it having been a month since he'd hooked up. But damn he was cute, and after I'd made his nipples sorer than they've probably ever been, he insisted on getting fucked, even though I'd reckoned (aloud) that his ass was way too tight for my cock to get into. I guess it had been longer still since he'd been fucked. He certainly seemed to enjoy it. Also, he left his hat behind, and it's always nice to have a trophy.


Pedro had some trouble finding his underwear when we were done, and I encouraged him to leave it behind as a trophy, but he wouldn't. Pedro frequently texts me to ask whether I'm setting up a group, and I've gotten to the point where I usually ignore him, but I'm glad I let him come over Friday night. He's always pretty intense with the frot, but few people have ever quivered quite so extravagantly as he did when he came on Friday.

Guy #4, by way of example, didn't quiver nearly so extravagantly, but he was much louder. I had gone down on him for something under a minute, and that was enough to bring him very close, so I was going to stroke him off while chewing on his right nipple, but I'd favored the right nipple, and it was too sore, so I got on the other side of him and chewed on his left nipple while stroking him off. He shot with such force that I was reminded of the blood spatter from a decapitation in a Kurosawa film (I can't remember whether it was Throne of Blood or Ran just now, and there may be a nearly identical blood spatter in both films, except, of course, that it would be in b&w in ToB and in color in Ran. Update: It was Ran:

Also, the atmosphere in my bedroom was significantly more fun than the atmosphere in that clip, and nobody's house got burned to the ground after the cumshot.) Most of the cum ended up in my hair, but some of it cleared my head and hit the top of his. I asked him whether that was a typical ejaculation for him. He just laughed and said, "Hardly." It's hard to imagine that I'll see him again, though, given how long it took him to get to my place.

I had hoped to have another go round with my psychic fuckbuddy this weekend. I ran into him (he manages a jewelry store) when I was out shopping Saturday, and he insisted that I hang around long enough to have lunch with him. We were coming back from the Peruvian chicken place, and I said something about his nipples, whereupon he sprouted wood right there in the mall. I couldn't stop laughing, and he kept insisting that it wasn't funny, but, well: come on, it's pretty funny. We were alone in the elevator for twenty seconds of making out that didn't do anything to soften his situation, and then I said goodbye to him in the parking lot. Later that evening, he blew me off. I had thought that we had made concrete plans to meet. He texted me at 7 to say that he'd be calling me "soon," and then I hadn't heard from him by 10:30 and texted him to say that I thought our definitions of "soon" were different enough to make us socially incompatible. He called me to apologize, saying that he'd been on the verge of calling me when I texted him, but I realized, as we were talking, that there was just no point, so I snapped the phone closed, and no more psychic. I'll miss his nipples, but there are, obviously, plenty of other nipples to make sore.


It occurred to me, after I hung up, that my current single status leaves me slightly vulnerable to being too easily fascinated with men who don't deserve to fascinate me. Awareness is the first key to a cure. I don't miss b&c per se (I still see him all the time, anyway, and on days when I'm not stopping by to bring him groceries or pick up a package, he typically calls me. Last night, for example, he called to say that a car had crashed into the side of his house. Apparently, it was a Toyota with a stuck accelerator. Fortunately, his bushes took most of the damage, so the house was relatively unscathed.), but I haven't quite learned to deal with being alone in a new house on those days when YFU isn't staying over. Mostly, I've been dealing with that feeling by hooking up, and while it doesn't bother me at all that I can't keep track of all the guys I'm playing with, I probably should work on finding guys who are available at more regular hours, just so I can get some sleep. There is something a little bit attractive about fatigue-based incoherence, but the costs outweigh the benefits in the long term.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Not Dead Yet


Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It's been almost a month since my last confession.

And this isn't going to be much better I'm afraid. The movers are coming on Thursday, I'm overwhelmed with painting and packing, and I have to go to the opera tonight. It's the hat trick of despair! Plus b&c is home all the time now, so there's almost no opportunity to hook up. But that all changes Thursday, and I'll be sure to let you know all about the presumably much increased sluttishness going on in my new home. Though, to be honest, I don't know whether I'll spend the weekend in bed exhausted or in bed getting further exhausted. Time will tell.

For now, I should mention that a couple of weeks ago, b&c was out of town, and YFU was unexpectedly at her mother's on an evening when I'd expected her to be with me, so I posted a craigslist ad, and there was almost no response (on a Friday!). So I went to sleep, but I couldn't sleep very well, and when I woke up at 6am (on a Saturday! Morning!), there was a response from a local guy who described himself as 5'10, 170, muscular, and very eager to suck cock. The response had come in at 3am, so I was sure he'd be asleep, but I wrote back, and he was up. He wouldn't send a picture and he wouldn't call, but I could tell from his emails that he was overly discreet rather than crazy, so I gave him an approximate location and told him to text me when he got there, and then I directed him the rest of the way in.

Gorgeous, thick-lipped, narrow-waisted, bubble-assed Black guy! On the one hand, I was a bit surprised that he hadn't mentioned his ethnicity, though maybe he just assumed that I was cool with any ethnicity because of my statement in the ad that ethnicity is not an issue for me. I just now thought of that. Up until this moment I was thinking that he'd been taking a risk and that he was just lucky that my reaction to finding out that a guy is Black is to thank the universe, but I guess I'd already conveyed that. Anyway, he was a very eager cocksucker, but he was also a great kisser, and the smooth ebony body certainly didn't hurt. He was there for about two hours, and we went through three condoms (alas, I didn't shoot three loads: we just kept losing them via aggressive pounding) after I'd eaten his ass thoroughly. Awesome!

I might also mention that on Saturday, when I was meant to be painting all day, I went all the way over to Arlington (Virginia! I must have been reallllly horny.) to hook up with a guy who contacted me on one of the web sites. He may have had the nicest pair of lips I've ever encountered on a white man, and boy did he know how to use them. He also had nipples that loved being worked, and, well, I worked them. It was one of those slow and comfortable, yet intense, sessions that worked its way out very leisurely until I'd eaten his ass for a while and he mounted my cock. Then he got carried away. He stroked off a load while he was riding me, then he lay beside me and kissed me while I stroked off one of my own. He said something about my not having to leave right away if I didn't want to, so after we wiped up a bit, we chatted for a while, then we started to make out again, and before I knew it, I was wearing a second condom and he was riding me again. He apologized for not being able to cum a second time, but I really didn't mind. He has a partner, and he only plays when his partner travels, but his partner travels a lot. He wants to play again, but I'm torn. On the one hand, truly awesome sex with a great kisser. On the other hand, Northern Virginia! It's a toss-up that might go the other way once I'm in my own place and able to have guys over pretty much whenever I want.

Monday, October 5, 2009

4-0-4


B&c was out of town most of last week, flying down to Colombia on Monday and back on Friday. I'm not sure I quite understand the concept of flying to another continent for three days of work, but whatever, right? He hadn't been out of town much, so I figured I should take advantage of his absence, even though in a week or two (Or eight: God only knows when I'll get around to moving. I kind of wanted to add a shower to the upstairs half-bath that will abut my bedroom before I move, and I have a feeling that project will get quickly out of hand.) I should be able to hook up in my own place on a sluttishly frequent basis, if I so choose. I will likely so choose.

Anyway, last Thursday, I should have gone to choir practice, but I knew that the choir director had deputized one of the altos to run practice for her, and I figured it might be a frustrating evening, so just before I left the office, I posted a craigslist ad, figuring that if it was a good evening for responses, I'd have them by the time I got home.


And I did have a few, including one from this guy who's been bugging me to dominate him for months and months. Maybe as long as a year. I guess I should go check. Hang on a sec. Yes, original contact was made in response to an ad I posted on or about September 14, 2008. And -- oh -- my initial response to him was, "I don't think we're a match." But then, according to the fossilemail record, he contacted me six months later, and I was less dismissive.

Anyway, since March, this guy's been pursuing me (or at least my cock) with somewhat dogged determination, usually asking to be used by me and my friends. But the timing was never right. But his was among last night's replies, and since I hadn't posted for a group scene, I figured either one-on-one or group would work, so I told him to come on over. He said he was an hour away. Now that's a guy who wants cock. Around the same time, three other guys said they wanted to come over, so I gave them my cell phone. One guy never called and a second decided not to come after I told him -- when he did call -- that he wouldn't be the only one coming (he texted me today to ask whether I was looking again tonight), but a third was eager to come over and get pounded whether I had company or not, so I gave him directions. Then I sent a text message to Pedro, whom I hadn't played with in a while. Pedro eventually texted back to say that he could make it, but late. I was hoping to be done before Project Runway started, but I figured I could always watch the 11:30 rerun.


The first guy showed up just before 8. He was a bit smoky, but cute and very eager and a good kisser.

And oh, motherfucking hell. I wrote all of that more than a week ago, and then attempted to update the time references, and blah, blah, blah. I am never going to have the time to give this entry the attention it deserves, so I'll break it down for you:

Good kisser guy and I go at it for a while.

Sub wannabe shows up and joins in a bit on the periphery. Mostly he sucks my cock. I shove his head up and down on it a bit.

Half an hour later, sub wannabe gets up, gets dressed, mumbles something about "too much smoke," and leaves. Don't let the door hit you on the way out! More importantly, don't lock it!


Pedro's running late, so I go ahead and fuck good kisser guy, who loses his load while he's on his back and I'm pounding his prostate. He jerks me off some, in a desultory manner, but when Pedro finally comes up the stairs, he repeats that he has to get going. I don't mind: Pedro's more fun.

Pedro's kind of tired, so we make out for a while, and then the frot starts. Eventually, I lie on my stomach and pull him on top of me so that his cock is wedged into the upper part of my asscrack. Boy howdy does Pedro love that. He writhes for a bit, and every so often I squeeze my cheeks together. He cums: low volume, but he's very excited. I realize that I had forgotten how much I enjoy feeling the weight of another guy on my back. It's kind of like getting a massage and leaves me feeling very relaxed, if not aroused. Pedro gets dressed. I go to sleep.


The night before, Pedro had sort of stood me up. It was a Wednesday, and YFU wasn't over for some reason, so on Tuesday afternoon I texted Pedro to see if he wanted to play. He did, and, as always, he wanted a group scene, so on Wednesday I put an ad on craigslist looking for a third and a fourth. And then, after I placed the ad, Pedro texted to say that he had to work and would be later than expected. And I spent the next hour explaining to guys responding to an ad for a group scene that I wasn't sure the versatile guy would be there. Alternating with texts from Pedro asking whether the other guys would be there. I tried to explain to him that I was in a bit of a bind because the other guys were only coming if he was coming, but that I wouldn't tell them he was coming if he might not come, even if every other guy who's ever advertised on craigslist has no trouble doing that very thing.

After a while, I threw up my hands and went to the supermarket and then the county liquor store. My favorite boxed Australian Shiraz was on sale, and I sat in front of the TV with some cheese and crackers and the Shiraz and watched Glee. Then I read for a while. It was great.


On Tuesday night, I had another foursome involving two married guys and Nike, whom I hadn't seen in forever. It was fun, and it went for about 2.5 hours. I forget most of the other details, though I do remember fucking Nike. He finally has his own car, so after we were finished, I was able to fall asleep instead of having to drive him home. Yay.


I think that's about it. I did spend about forty-five minutes this past weekend fucking Torless. He hadn't had any in a while, I reckon. It was fun, but not especially remarkable. Torless is always fun, but not especially remarkable.


I'm hopeful that normal sexual activity and reportage thereon will resume after the move, which should happen soon before or after the extended individual income tax deadline. Something to look forward to.



Monday, September 21, 2009

Bezos


B&c's Colombian boyfriend was visiting this weekend, and that was a lot of fun because he's cute and friendly and, well, cute. He speaks very little English, and I speak almost no Spanish, so communication was somewhat complicated. I can sort of decode written Spanish since the etymology is so similar to French, and when I tried to explain that to him, he said that he spoke a little French, and then we had a perfectly decent conversation in French, after which he either decided that he would rather not be understood or he lost confidence in his French skills. Most likely the latter, which was unfortunate since his French was better than his English, and my French is miles ahead of my Spanish. But whatever, he was still cute.

Throughout the weekend, he kept staring at me, with some intensity, and at first I figured that he was wondering whether I resented his presence in the house. I would have liked to reassure him, but how do you pantomime "I have no problem whatever with your fucking my partner; in fact, I would greatly appreciate your fucking him since I'm not fucking him any more, and it would certainly help his mood; furthermore, feel free to sleep with him, just give me a heads up so I can move my reading glasses to the other room"? And don't tell me there's a video of someone pantomiming that very thing on YouTube: do you think I didn't check? By the way, if you've lost your voice but still need to tell your butcher that you'd like him to trim another quarter-inch of fat off the pork loin, I can hook you up.


But then, occasionally, he'd be next to me to show me something or for me to show him something on the computer, and he'd push against me forcefully enough that it couldn't possibly have been an accident, and I started to think that maybe he was flirting with me. Which seemed slightly odd, but not really all that odd, and, besides, it felt really, really good. B&c and I are pretty much physically estranged these days, and he was never all that good at cuddling or anything like cuddling, and the sort of body contact I get when I hook up (which, in any case, has been happening rarely) is very different from, say, the sort of enchanting-but-not-necessarily-erotic body contact that you might get from a friend who is more physically expressive than I am. I should probably work on being more physically expressive in non-overtly sexual ways, but the list of things that I should work on is already very long, and "be more physically expressive in non-overtly sexual ways" is simply too cumbersome to be on a list with items like "exercise more" and "stop losing socks." As if.

Anyway, Saturday was a very frustrating day. On Friday afternoon, I'd been driving home with YFU, and I'd heard the noise I'd been hearing in the front of my car, but it was much louder than it had been. So on Saturday morning, after b&c, M. and I had stayed up until nearly 1 watching Milk (with the Spanish subtitles on), I got up at 6 to take my car to the shop where I spent five hours and $801. getting new brakes. I'd hoped to spend at least part of Saturday at the office, but between the shop and then shopping with YFU, the day got away from me.

B&c and M. got back from tromping about DC around 6:30, and we all had dinner, YFU disappearing to her room to watch old episodes of Bones on the Internet. We sat at the table draining bottles of wine (most of them were more than half-empty to start with: we were just cleaning up, really) and chatting for a while, then M. and I did the dishes. B&c claimed exhaustion and went to bed, and M. and I retired to the den. He picked up a Spanish novel that EFU had left behind and began reading, and then we chatted a bit. We had to keep looking up words in the dictionary, and when he'd find a word, he'd sit on the arm of the armchair and lean into me and show me the dictionary, and then I'd say "Si" and we'd smile. I thought, "Okay, he's interested," and he was still sitting on the arm of the chair, so I slid my arm around him and squeezed a little bit, and he leaned in against me again, and then he stood up, smiled, and said, "Buenos noches" and went up to his room, stopping to look back at me and smile as he turned the corner. And then I thought that he was simply being friendly and that was probably just the way Colombians are. It was a little confusing, but so much fun. I'd enjoyed the flirting a great deal, and I wondered briefly whether that's why people date. I've always assumed that people date out of some sort of defect of character, but I suppose there is an upside.


The next morning I was singing with the choir at church, so I only caught a glimpse of M. wrapped in a towel coming from the shower before YFU and I had to leave. I figured that M. and b&c would use that time to get horizontal, even though b&c may have said that their relationship had become mainly non-sexual. It's kind of hard to keep track: he works in several different countries, and he has something like a part-time boyfriend in most of them, and I'm not interested and/or diligent enough to remember which ones are dinner companions and travel guides and which ones are dinner companions and travel guides who also pound him senseless. I would like to think that most of them fall into the latter category, but b&c seems to be relatively happy not to have sex with any of his guys, except probably me.

Anyway, we got back from church, YFU returned to her computer, and I went off to the office for a couple of hours, then I took her back to her mother's, and came back home. I took a walk and then read some more, and M. and b&c returned -- after another day of tromping about -- around 6. B&c made dinner in the kitchen. M. and I were in the den, and every once in a while, he'd get up to go to the kitchen or come back, and he'd walk behind my chair and squeeze the back of my neck. Then we had dinner, and more wine, and b&c went upstairs to pack for his trip to Colombia. M. was already packed for his trip to NYC, so we sat in the den and attempted to chat for a bit. He asked me what my favorite song was. It seemed easiest to take him into the office and show him. I opened YouTube and showed him Patsy Cline singing "Crazy" and he showed me what he said was some typically Colombian music, and I showed him the opening scene from Diva with Wilhelminia Wiggins Fernandez singing an Aria from La Wally. He showed me Nat King Cole sining "Quizas, Quizas, Quizas," and I showed him a clip from Strictly Ballroom with the Doris Day version, and all through that, he was massaging my neck and then my shoulders and it really seemed as though he were being more than friendly, and when I stood up, he reached up and grabbed the back of my neck again, and I reached over and did the same to him, and then we heard b&c coming down the stairs, and we separated and I sat back down and pulled up "Girl from Ipanema."

B&c went back upstairs, and I stood up and leaned down and had one of those first kisses that would in any event have been awesomely delicious but which was made much more so by all that teasing. It surely didn't hurt that he has full soft lips, or that he's short and thin and dark and lovely. We stood there and made out, and there was a beautiful ebb and flow to it. He'd moan softly and then there'd be an increased urgency, and I'd suck on his immense lower lip, and he'd bite down on mine, and I'd pull him into my arms, and then we'd hear a noise from upstairs and separate. The whole teenagers-not-wanting-to-get-caught-by-Dad vibe made it all the more enticing. When we'd separate, he'd often sit in the chair at the computer, and I'd massage his neck and shoulders, and he'd melt a little and then lift his head to look back at me, and I'd bend down, and we'd meet in an upside down kiss, each sucking on the other's lower lip. I ran my hands down over his chest and squeezed his nipples through his polo shirt and then gently stroke the side of his face. I could see him tenting his jeans, but I thought it wise not to reach that far down just then.


We did that off and on for half an hour or so, and every moment of it -- the kissing, the roaming hands, the sudden separations -- was heaven. Eventually, b&c finished packing and asked M. whether there was anything he could take back to Colombia for him (M. will be getting back there while b&c is still there.), so M. went off to get a few things, and I went back to the Den and picked up my book. I figured that b&c would be tired and would turn in pretty soon, and then I'd have a chance to get M. into a more compromising position, but I also figured that a) that might be a little bit awkward, and b) I'd already had a great time, and it isn't often that I get really great clothed making out, so I was already ahead of the game.

B&c and M. settled in the living room to talk for a bit, and it got to be about 10, and M. appeared in the den and said, "Buenos noches" again. He blew me a kiss and went upstairs. B&c stayed up for a few more minutes, but then said he was exhausted and went to our room. I smiled, thinking what a fun evening it had been, and flipped on a rerun of whichever one of the Law & Orders Christopher Meloni is on. Christopher Meloni, mmmmm. It would have been nice, I figured, to get M. naked and find out whether he had the small, dark, uncut cock that must surely have accompanied his small, dark, smooth body, but the kissing really was all that.


Of course, half an hour later, he snuck downstairs in his underwear, and we had really tremendous sex -- and I'm not complaining about that, mind you -- but it was almost beside the point.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

You Get a Little Drunk and You Land in Jail


So the other day, I'm running through my various gmail accounts. I have six of them, and it takes about a minute to check all of them, unless there's an actual email demanding my attention, like maybe I need to send a recipe to EFU or remind one of my married sub cocksuckers that it will still be a couple of weeks before I can host again or explain to Bank of America any unusual charges out of my bank account last month, which makes me wonder whether using my debit card to spend $12 for condoms at CVS is going to cause my lender to abandon me in my hour of home ownership. But this time around, the only email I had was a notification that I had a new message on one of my facebook accounts, and the name of the person who'd sent that message was suspiciously identical to the name of that guy that I spent the night with once, maybe six months ago, and who subsequently spent three months as a guest of the DC prison system.


And my immediate thought is, "Oh, shit, this guy's pissed off that when his fiancee -- whom I did not know to exist -- texted me to tell me that he was in jail, I thought he was texting me and joking around, and now he's going to hunt me down and disembowel me for telling his girlfriend that he's gay. It's a good thing I'm moving soon. I hope b&c doesn't give up my new location under torture." But then I log on to facebook and it's just a "Hey, how's it going?" or maybe a "Hey, what's up? message," and part of me says, "Just walk away, TED. WALK. AWAY." But another part of me just can't help trying to figure what the hell is up with this guy, so I write on his wall or whatever and then I search a couple of email accounts until I figure out which one we used to correspond under, and it's not the email account linked to that facebook account, which makes me think that he must have found me by searching by (phony Internet) name. And I don't think my (phony Internet) name is all that uncommon, so there are probably TEDs all over the place wondering who the hell Rafael (Is that what I called him? Who can remember?) is and why he's writing on their walls.


There's no way in hell that I'm communicating with anybody via Facebook, though, so I send him a generic what's-up e-mail, and he writes back, that he's good and how am I, and I check his Facebook profile, and it says that his status has changed, over the past few days, from married to single to it's complicated. Complicated: understatement much? And after a couple of emails, he writes that he's almost got his license back and that he's in a relationship and doing some side jobs, so I write back to ask whether that's with his fiancee, and he replies, "Wife, actually," and I'm about as WTF as I've ever been at that point, but after "Wife, actually," he writes that sometimes he just gets the urge for that little something, which prompts me to ask whether he doesn't mean an urge for a big something, and he says something about liking to be stretched, but that he hasn't had any for so long that he's just sooooo tight right now, and I can't help asking, "But didn't you get plenty of thick black cock in the D.C. jail?" Which in many contexts could be considered a rude question, but, seriously, didn't he?


But Rafael doesn't seem at all nonplussed, he just writes back that the 90 days of hell was meant to be 30 days, and he says that he doesn't remember telling me that he was going to jail, but he doesn't seem angry, either. I reply that someone else told me, and I ask whether the incarceration was related to his meth addiction, and then he loses his cool a bit: the non comes off the nonplussed, but he doesn't actually use either "nonplussed" or "plussed," so I am robbed of the chance to say, "LISTEN YOU MANWHORE COCKSUCKER, I DON'T ESPECIALLY MIND THAT YOU WERE ENGAGED AND TOLD ME YOU WERE SINGLE OR THAT YOU STOOD ME UP REPEATEDLY WITH BOGUS EXCUSES OR THAT I NEARLY SHIT MYSELF WHEN I REALIZED THAT I'D JUST TOLD YOUR FIANCEE THAT YOU'RE GAY OR EVEN THAT KNOWING THAT SHE WENT AHEAD AND NOT ONLY DIDN'T DUMP YOUR SORRY JAILHOUSE ASS BUT ACTUALLY MARRIED YOU OR THAT YOU WENT ALONG WITH IT AND MARRIED HER EVEN THOUGH WE BOTH KNOW THE ONLY THING YOU WANT IS TO BE PLOWED FROM BOTH ENDS UNTIL YOU PASS OUT AND THAT YOUR METH ADDICTION MEANS YOU CAN'T GET IT UP IN THE FIRST PLACE BUT I WILL NOT SIT IDLY BY WHILE YOU CREATE INCORRECT BACKFORMATIONS, DOUCHEBAG." Besides, that wouldn't, strictly speaking, be true: I am still sort of upset about the back and forth with his fiancee. The rest of it, well, shit happens, you know? Especially the standing up with lame excuses part. And, really, in my experience, when someone stands you up, you just switch to Man B, and Man B is more often than not more fun than Man A. Men that bail on you at the last minute tend not to be all that great in the sack.


Anyway, he sends me a couple more messages about how he was in jail because he assaulted a cab driver who called him a faggot and about how he only smokes pot, and not even that since January, but he's never done meth, and I need to "get [my] shit/story straight," but I'm back to being some combination of a) slightly scared of him and b) grateful that he apparently doesn't know what I said to his fiancee. I'm hopeful that I won't hear from him again, but it's more likely that he'll send a few more emails. I reckon I'll just have to tell him that I already have enough married guys in my line up. I'll probably avoid adding that none of them do meth.