Rump Redux

To say that I'm too busy to fuck these days is something of an understatement. I got home last night sometime after 11, and b&c was already asleep. I got out of bed this morning, and he was still in the same position. I'm pretty sure he was still breathing, but, all things considered, it seemed like a better idea not to inquire too closely. I'm even too busy to jerk off, and, well, we all know that ends badly. Sometime soon, probably early tomorrow morning, I'm just going to have to say, "Sleep be damned" and wake up half an hour early and pound the partner. It's not exactly romantic, but a man's got needs.

The last few days, my sexual activity has been limited to exchanging emails with guys who are probably never going to follow through. What would ordinarily be moderately annoying is somehow comforting when one has no time to fuck.

But the lack of posting here hasn't been entirely due to the lack of time to fuck. There are plenty of other things I can write about. Sexuality is a very wide field, especially when you're me. No, the real problem is that every time I come to my blog, the first thing I see is this:


And when I'm running on too little sleep and too little sex, seeing an ass like that is an experience like unto the heavens parting. Mostly I'd like to part those particular heavens with my tongue, but, truly, seeing that picture (especially the larger version: click on it) is almost a religious experience for me. I'm not typically all that enamored of the hairy ass, but hair is very helpful for the Caucasian ass, which, let's face it, otherwise tends to lag behind asses of other ethnicities. If that were an Asian or Latin or Black ass, it could be perfect without hair, but white skin more easily shows its flaws, and I fear that perfectly shaped pair of buttocks would be less appetizing without its fur.

Anyway, if there is a just god (admittedly an unlikely prospect) and I am deemed worthy (unlikelier still, perhaps), then I expect my first sight of paradise will be that ass (or a hairless version in a darker color: I'm agnostic) in a pair of jeans, commando. As the jeans fall, and the man bends slightly at the waist, the almighty will say, "Welcome home, thou good and faithful servant," to which I will reply, "mmmmmph."

Stranger Than Fiction?

I read a number of faux-reality porn blogs. By that phrase, I mean a blog which purports to be an accurate recounting of the writer's sex life but which is really largely or entirely made up. I don't think there's anything wrong with that (I love pornographic fiction), but I'll admit that I experience a brief wave of disappointment at the moment I realize that what I had thought might be real isn't. I don't want to call out any particular blogs, and I don't want to get into any arguments (not that anyone would necessarily notice my having called them out), but just by example, if you read these two blogs, you can probably guess which reflects the blogger's highly entertaining reality and which reflects the author's highly entertaining imagination. And if you can't, well, then just enjoy.

Anyway, I had a moment late last night where I briefly wondered whether I was imagining my own life because I was all "Damn. Really?" but it's going to take me a little while to get there, so maybe grab a snack. Or your cock if you're just here for the pictures, but I'm pretty sure that those of you who actually read the text don't jo while you're on the site, not that there would be anything wrong with that, and there are times when I'd like to write actual porn here because I'm pretty good at that, but I don't bother because it doesn't pay and OH FUCK CAN I JUST FINISH A SENTENCE ALREADY. I hate tax season. I apologize for my little outburst there, but I'm too fucking tired to edit and, yeah, sentence, finish, please.

So late yesterday afternoon I was sitting at my desk, having just finished researching some of the finer points of controlled foreign corporations and foreign personal holding company income when I surfed over to craigslist and saw that a cute, young, black guy in Bethesda wanted to give head in his office after 6, but his picture showed him from behind, and he had a beautiful ass, so I emailed him saying that I'd love to eat it while he went down on me and then fuck him, figuring that he wouldn't even bother to reply, but he did, saying that he was really just looking to suck a cock and swallow a load, and I was thinking that this was really not going to end well because a) offices are typically not well designed for sex, b) I was sure not to get a chance to kiss him, and c) quickie bjs just don't work for me, but I emailed him anyway, and he allowed that he had lube and condoms and that I could probably slide it in, and he wanted me to come over, and I sort of felt like I'd offered to come over and that backing out would be flaking, and he did agree to make the time 6:30, which would be just right for something fast before choir practice, so at 6:28, I was standing in the lobby of the ninth floor of an office building just two blocks from mine, texting the guy, "I'm here."


He came to let me in, and he was every bit as cute as advertised. He was not as young, but black guys can get away with a lot of years on that front, so if he was thirty-five as opposed to twenty-nine, who really cares, right? Not me, certainly. He was wearing a suit, minus the jacket, and he was about 5'7 and very fit. We went back to his office, and while he took care of a couple of things on his computer, I lowered the blinds the rest of the way and turned them closed. I dropped my overcoat over the back of a chair and started to unzip, and he began removing his tie and shirt. I guess he was nervous because he sent one of his buttons flying across the room, but he was pretty quickly down to his wife beater. I sat against the credenza, and he got on his knees and pulled my cock out of my briefs.

I was still pretty sure this wasn't going to end well, but I did allow myself to enjoy the oral. As soon as I was hard, I grabbed his head and rammed it on and off my cock a few times, then I just watched for a bit, at which point I thought, "You know, I really do have kind of a thick cock." I'd probably give up an inch of circumference for another inch of length, but whatever. He was doing a good job with the head, and I reached down inside his tank and twisted his nipples a bit. They didn't feel like they were used to much work.

Anyway, at about four or five minutes in -- probably when he's usually saying goodbye to his trick and savoring the load -- he seemed to get a little tired of sucking. Or at least, he went for a condom, put it on me, lubed me up (barely missing my pants, which were down around my thighs, and tried to back up onto my cock. He was on the short side, though, and he was very tight, so while I tried to push into him, the angle was wrong, and the ass was resistant. There was a long table in the other corner of the office, and it was lower, so I half-leaned, half sat against it, and we tried again. I got the head in, and he started to make some noise. I grabbed his hips and tried to pull him back. I figured I could reach around, stroke him a few times, and he'd shoot a load, then I could just leave: the office wasn't that big, and it was crowded, and there was just no way I was going to find a position that would allow me to plow that ass long and hard enough to shoot my own load. But then I apparently pulled him back too hard because it hurt him, and I heard a crack, and it was the table, which was old and only held a printer. I looked, and I could tell right away that it could be easily fixed with a little wood glue. He didn't seem worried about the office furniture, but he was clearly worried about the width of my cock, so I stood up, reached around for his cock with one hand, and inserted the thumb of my other hand into his ass, pushing directly on his prostate. Ooops: I forgot lube. I got some lube and went with a finger, but he clearly didn't get fucked much (really a shame because what an ass), and we were clearly done. We were both very civilized about it, and he apologized profusely. I gave him the condom and wiped myself up (not much required, really) with a paper towel that I'd gotten from the men's room at my office as I was leaving. He walked me out, and all I was thinking was that it had ended badly, as predicted, but I didn't really mind. Besides, it gave me time to get a McChicken sandwich (dollar menu!) before choir practice.

Choir practice didn't go well, and by the time I got home, I was so horny that I actually texted Nike. I hadn't heard from him in over a week, so I figured he might be mad at me, but at first there was no response, and then "Who is this?" And I was all, wow, he was so mad at me he deleted my phone number. Score! I mean, sure, he was a great kisser and a great cocksucker and a lot of fun, but until just over a week ago, he'd been bugging me constantly to come pick him up, bring him home, and let him suck me off, and I just didn't have the time. It seemed easiest, on the whole, not to reply. (I got the same text message from him again this morning. I again didn't reply.)

So I started doing some much-needed housework, but I was logged onto a couple of hook-up sites, and I saw this very local married submissive that I'd chatted with before but hadn't actually fucked because he couldn't sneak out. I figured that it'd be the same story last night, but I also figured I could find that out in a two-minute chat, so I said hello. After two minutes, I gave him my general, but not specific, location and my cell number and told him to either call then come over or call on the way over, figuring that he wouldn't follow through. A minute later, he called, saying that he was in his back yard but that the light was still on in his bedroom window, so he wasn't sure whether his wife was asleep. I would have expected that to make me angry, but I had just moved into efficiency mode, "Call me back if you can come over," and I hung up.

Maybe two minutes later, I was at my computer reading an email, and I see someone walking up the front sidewalk, and I'm thinking WTF because that guy doesn't know where I live, and damn that was fast and that guy doesn't know where I live, and there's a knock on the door, and I look outside, and it's not that guy at all, it's a guy from a recent fourway that I had with Judd and two married submissives and why is he knocking on my door at almost midnight?

And I have to tell you, I thought for a moment of all the recent death wish yammering, but, well, I should explain that when I was much younger, up to my mid-twenties, I was not a particularly good judge of character. Then I spent four years working in a large, international accounting firm, and the only really useful thing (aside from a fairly thorough knowledge of corporate taxation) that I learned was how to judge character very quickly. And since that time, there have been any number of charming men who have become professional associates and who have taken in all or almost all of my colleagues. And invariably, after one meeting with these guys, I've smiled and thought to myself, "No." In a professional context, it's not danger I'm sensing, it's charm covering a level of incompetence and/or deceit, but I always know when someone isn't what they seem to be. And the guy at my door (who later reminded me that I'd told him that b&c was out of town and that I never had the kids on Thursday night: I was mostly weirded out by the thought that he might have shown up when a family member was around) was clearly exactly what he seemed to be: a married guy in the first stages of exploring his attraction to men. He'd been the guy who'd told me, in a surprised tone, how much more fun he'd had than he'd expected to have. [In fact, the only time that I have ever had a twinge of fear during a hook-up was one time when I went to another guy's apartment and he started smoking meth. I wrote about that hook-up in my very first post on this blog. It was the only time I'd ever seen anyone smoke meth, and that was what frightened me, even though he'd asked me before he came over if I minded if he used drugs. But all it did was make that guy a lot hornier. That guy was a total sweetheart, and I think (I don't remember, but I probably wrote about it at the time) it was not long after he'd smoked the meth that he took me to the kitchen and removed my heart with a rusty knife showed me how he liked to make a Martini. It was a fascinating and effective method, but it seemed like a lot of work to me. I wasn't in any danger, but I did decide not to hook up with anyone doing anything more extreme than poppers or 420 after that, mostly because the drugs seemed to make the experience less authentic, somehow.]


So when I opened the door, and he said, "I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by" (no, really), I motioned him in before laughing and saying, "Dude. It's almost midnight, and you live in Kensington," but then we were making out and I was pulling off his jacket and twisting his nipples hard and pushing him up the stairs as he was saying, "I was here before, there were four of us," and I laughed again and said, "Yeah, I remember," because, really, if a guy whom I don't recognize shows up at my door at midnight, I don't pull him inside and make out with him: I just don't answer the door. Of course, at midnight, I'm not usually sitting by my computer in the front room, and I don't usually have the front porch light on, either, but I'd turned it on for the local guy who was probably still pacing in his back yard.

It was clear to me that, in addition to being harmless, this guy had wrestled with his desire and lost, and -- having been married myself -- I have a lot of sympathy for guys like him, especially when they have really nice nipples. It was also clear that he'd set out (or maybe he really had been in the area, he does work late) and driven by my house not expecting to actually stop, but then he'd seen the light, and he'd seen my profile in the window, and now he was feeling some combination of very lucky and guilty and scared, and none of this could have been helped very much by the fact that as soon as I had him upstairs and almost fully undressed, my cell phone rang, it was the very local married submissive saying that he was on his way over to be my bitch. "Um, cool. I have an unexpected guest. I hope you don't mind." He didn't mind. So I gave him the full address and decided to leave the door unlocked for him because, well, strength in numbers, good judge of character, appropriate screening, or death wish. You be the judge.

Anyway, first married guy came back out of the bathroom -- to which he'd fled when the phone rang, and we got horizontal, and I started kissing him, and then I began working his nipples really hard while he sniffed poppers, and he was having a fine time, and I was having a fine time, and I'd just guided his hand to my extremely hard cock when I heard the door open downstairs. A minute later, second married guy showed up in the bedroom, naked, and I pointed him toward my cock. He'd said that he wanted to be forced to take it all, but he was just licking the head, so -- without breaking my chomp on first married guy's nipple -- I grabbed his head and shoved it down on my cock until I got gagging noises. Then I let him work.

After a few minutes like that, I pulled away from mg1 and pulled mg2 off my cock so I could kiss him. I pushed mg1 down to my cock, and he sucked it for a bit, but after a couple of minutes, he got up and started to get dressed. "You're leaving?" "I have to go." I was a little torn. I mean, I was having a great time with mg2, but I felt like my ministry to the local married submissives (no, I'm not taking myself seriously with that description, duh) demanded that I attend to both of my lambs. I let mg1 get partly dressed, and then when he was sitting on the corner of the bed putting his socks on, I went over to him and pinched his nipples hard and kissed him, but he said, "I really do have to go. I'll talk to you later," and, hey, maybe he really was in the neighborhood after working late and expected at home, and even a missionary such as myself can only worry about so many things at once, so I went back to mg2 who was very eager.

After I pushed his head down on my cock again for a bit, I put him on his back, got on top of him and began kissing him again. His nipples looked like they'd never had any work done on them, so I only sucked on them at first, but then he whispered, "Bite them," and, oh, dude, be careful what you wish for. I bit. Hard. And then harder. And he never complained.


He was cute and fit and short and hairy, and I let him suck on my cock some more, then I pulled him around, told him not to stop sucking my cock, and commenced to eating his very fine ass. I'd told him to make sure it was clean, and he had. We were both doing what we love to do, so I ate him while he sucked me for a good long while, even though it was already pretty late on a school night. Then we kissed a little more, and I shoved him on his stomach. I rubbed my cock against his hole, and he freaked out just a bit because he thought I was going to bareback him, but I just laughed and said, "As if" as I grabbed the condom. Normally I make the other guy put it on me, but he was actually begging me to fuck him, so I figured speed was important. I'd eaten him very thoroughly, but he also begged for lube, so I gave him some of that, too. And then I started to ease into him. He'd warned me, as I was rubbering up, that he was likely to be a noisy fuck, and he was. I pushed one of his legs up and entered him that way, but he said I was too big, even though I was already somewhat inside, and asked whether he could ride me. So I lay down, and he straddled me and eased down onto my cock as I tweaked his nipples hard. It took a couple of minutes, but he finally relaxed (and then squeezed: nice), and I was able to get his legs out from under him and lower him back into X position, which, not surprisingly, he loved.

After a few minutes of that, he sat up again and yelled as I thrust into him, then I put him on his back, bent him double, and started to jackhammer the prostate, as I so love to do these days. He started making a noise that was somewhere between a yelp and a squeak. I imagine that to a disinterested observer it would not have seemed terribly erotic, but it really turned me on, and I pounded and pounded and pounded until he begged me to cum, which usually works, but not so much in that position.

So I put him on his hands and knees (he'd asked to be fucked like a dog) and shoved into him from behind. He was making deeper but similarly urgent noises, and I fucked him harder until he was lying flat, and then I plowed and plowed and plowed until he asked me again to cum, and soon after that I gratified him and filled the condom.

I was pretty beat, so I only stayed inside him for a minute after I came, then I pulled out. He asked for permission to jerk off, which I gave him. He was stroking pretty hard, and when I pushed a couple of fingers in and pressed his knob, he began to shake and then shoot. Nice sized load, too.


I expected him to jump right up, but he was content to lie there. I was content to lie there, too, so we lay there and didn't say anything until he said, "That was great!" I agreed. I tossed him a towel and fetched one for myself, then I lay back down. He was sort of bent on one corner of the bed, and I was lying diagonally across it, with my arm near his leg, and I began to idly stroke his calf while we chatted for a bit. It was all very friendly, which is usually a bad sign for repeat opportunities, but I don't know, and it's no big deal either way. We exchanged names, but I quickly forgot his, which is kind of inconvenient because now I can't give him a name and be sure that it wasn't his real name. I think it was something pretty common like Jim or Steve or Craig, but it might have been something more obscure like Aloysius, except that I'm pretty sure it wasn't Aloysius. In fact, I'm almost certain that it had fewer than four syllables. I guess I should have saved it in my cell phone, but I didn't. I have his email address, anyway.

He finally got out of bed, kissed me goodbye, and headed downstairs. I'd forgotten that he'd undressed before he came up. I gathered a load of laundry, took it down, and put it in the washer. On the way back to my computer, I noticed an unfamiliar jacket on the chair in the hallway, but I thought maybe it was EFU's, so I didn't worry about it. Then I sat down and looked out, and he was still in the driveway in his SUV, but it had only been a couple of minutes. And then I saw him heading back up the driveway, so I grabbed the jacket off the chair, and when he knocked on the door and said, "I can't find my car key," I handed him the jacket. He went through the pockets, found the key, and said good night after some brief necking.

I went back to the computer, and there was an email from mg1 apologizing for showing up uninvited. I told him it was okay, but I repeated my cell number and asked him to use it the next time. If there is one, I mean. With married guys, you really never know. I think, though, that in the extremely unlikely event someone ever knocks on my door near midnight again (it's never happened before), I'll hide rather than answer the door. It seems more likely, even in a crowded suburb, to be an unknown burglar than a horny married guy who's lost my number, and at the very least, answering the door at that hour encourages rudeness. If it's a neighbor kid whose house is on fire, presumably he or she will have the sense to yell.

Death Wish 2 and Other Sequels

Many many additional details have surfaced about the murder of George Weber. You've probably already seen them, and if not, just Google the name. Although it's now clear that this was a hook-up gone fatally awry, my conclusions haven't changed. The dangerous behavior in this case wasn't inviting a stranger into Mr. Weber's home: the dangerous behavior was inviting a drugged-out sixteen-year-old weapons freak who responded to an ad asking for violent sex into his home and then encouraging the guy to bind him with duct tape. It's not clear how much Mr. Weber knew about his murderer, but given the propensity of the young and brash to share information, it's not at all unlikely that he'd seen all of the very disturbing My Space profile and pictures that are now all over the Internet. To say that there were warning signs is an understatement of indescribable proportions.

It's also clearer than ever that the hook-up that led to Mr. Weber's death is highly distinguishable from the more common suburban hook-up that many people (like me) typically engage in. To draw a conclusion that the two are similarly risky is to abandon reason and logic.

My ex-wife is an epidemiologist, and she used to talk about how if you want to make a problem appear either bigger or smaller, you just expand or contract your sample. For example, if there's a cluster of ten cases of brain cancer in a small community, it's relatively obvious that there's a problem. But if you expand your circle of study to include the entire county, say, then the ratio of adverse events becomes much closer to the norm because the denominator is larger. Conversely, you can create apparent problems where none may exist by cherry picking a smaller sample where a larger sample would be more appropriate.

The anonymous hook-up situation seems similar to me. If you look at all of the anonymous hook-ups that happen everywhere, it's unlikely that you'll find the activity to be as risky as skydiving, hang gliding, whatever. If you look at the people who die, well, then you have a 100% chance of a bad outcome. If you look at the people who don't take sensible precautions and/or the people who are specifically asking for risky behavior, then you're almost certain to get a highly elevated risk.

Sex carries a lot of risks outside of violence, most notably health risks. Men who go to sex clubs (which, again, I have no problem with in theory: I'm just not comfortable with them, and there aren't any near me) are probably not at a greatly elevated risk of disease if they play safely. If they don't use condoms or take other precautions, then their risk has to skyrocket, but that doesn't mean that nobody should go to sex clubs or that everyone who goes to sex clubs has an equal risk of infection as the guys who engage in unprotected sex at sex clubs.



In other updates, I'm feeling like a bad host today. Judd was over again last night, and my particular combination of fatigue, horniness, and pique resulted in a quickie: seventy-five minutes from first kiss to squirt. I know that for some people that's a lengthy session, but for Judd and I, not so much. We pretty much went right to sleep after that, and he kissed me goodbye at five this morning without a second fuck.

My pique was self-inflicted (and had nothing to do with Judd, who is always gracious and horny, if occasionally a bit toothy with the oral). Rafael had contacted me over the weekend (a text message in the middle of the night, which I neither heard nor responded to) and then again on Monday. Raf is so unreliable that I never expect him to follow through, but he practically begged me to let him join Judd and I last night. I didn't want to agree, mostly because I'd rather play with each of them on a one-on-one basis, but I knew that each of them would enjoy playing with the other, so I had to say yes, even though Raf was all over the place with the flurry of text messages.


For example, at 7:15, "U and ur buddy. Does he have a big dick like yours? Please tell me yes, I really want to be the middle car on the train. Please please please..????? Yes???"

Then at 7:19, "Do u think u can get him to fuck my mouth hard while u treat my ass the way I want?"

At 7:21, "You know Ted, I want to b a whore. I am inside. I want to b trained right. Give it up and work my ass right."

And then at 7:22, "I want to make love to you and then cuddle w/ u all night long!" (By the way, sic throughout. I even counted to make sure I got the number of question marks right. I have no idea what "I am inside" means, though.)


The last two messages made me tell him that he really needed to make up his mind. Not that whores don't need cuddling, too, of course. Anyway, there were more text messages, mostly meant to appeal to my vanity, but I really just said yes a) to shut him up, and b) because he does have an amazing ass.

And then yesterday afternoon around 5, the texts started arriving again. This time saying that he was having trouble getting a ride home from Frederick. There were many more, but at 7:30, he still appeared to be in Frederick, so I went home and got ready for Judd. I tried to find someone else to make up a threesome, but I didn't have time, and the only person who seemed interested was someone who seemed a bit sketchy to me (more in an I-don't-kiss way than an axe-murderer way, but, really, not kissing is bad enough), so I dropped it.

My allowing myself to think that Raf might follow through had left me in a relatively bad mood, but in addition to channeling the bad mood into a shorter-than-usual session, I channeled it into a particularly hard fuck, and Judd is all about that. In the end, we were both on our backs, and his head was on my left hip. We were both jerking off pretty hard, and I shot a particularly voluminous load. He came soon afterward, then turned his head and started cleaning off my cock. Then we chatted for a while, I gave him a few biscotti, and we fell asleep.


As is my habit whenever b&c's away, I put on a DVD to fall asleep to. In this case, I chose a Spanish movie that I had purchased for a reason that I cannot remember. But it doesn't take much to get me to buy Spanish movies, even though watching them means that I have to wear my glasses to bed in case I wake up and want to read the subtitles. I liked the movie a lot. It has the combination of darkness and optimism that I have come to associate (perhaps without reason) with southern European cinema.

I'm sure I'll be hearing from Raf again soon, but I think my answer from now on will be, "Sure, c'mon over." He doesn't drive, so that'll be the end of that, unless he's staying at his brother's house (about half a mile away), and then he can come over. I typically burn my bridges when someone's flakiness continues to upset me, but if I can get to the point where I just don't care, then I might as well leave the bridge there in case we're both free some night when he's in the neighborhood. It probably won't come to that, though. He'll probably text me this weekend after b&c returns home from Jordan, and I'll tell him no more text messages. If he wants to talk to me, he can man up enough to make an actual phone call. He's not young enough to be that addicted to the text message, anyway.

Death Wish

A reader, FitchLove21, asked in a recent comment whether I'd ever feared for my safety when going into the home of an anonymous hook-up. I haven't ever been in such a situation, and I told him that. I've been in a couple of situations that were unpleasant, but I've always either left or asked the other guy to leave, and that was that.

The subject of safety has been on my mind lately because of a pair of posts by Father Tony, who tells us:

We live in a dangerous world of equally malevolent gods and monsters.

He also tells us:

In any case, we are all again reminded that inviting strangers into the loneliness of one's house is not a jovial manhunt. It is a death wish.

Far be it from me to deny anyone a dramatic turn of phrase, but "death wish"? Hyperbole much? We're presented with a pair of cases, one or both of which may have involved a guy bringing a trick home. It's hard to know exactly what happened in either of these cases, particularly the most recent one, but I did some searching on the George Weber homicide, and only one account I saw mentioned the possibility that Mr. Weber was on a "male date." (This same account said that he'd been found "half naked" in bed, as if that were surprising.) In fact, to me the most shocking revelation to come to light from this case is that Father Tony follows the New York Daily News. I'd have taken him for a Times man.

I'm willing, though, to accept, for the sake of argument, that both Mr. Weber and Mr. Ellison were murdered by tricks whom they picked up and brought home. And I certainly don't mean to make light of their deaths, but a trick-related murder in Fort Lauderdale and another in New York City don't exactly constitute an epidemic.


I admit that I'm not disinterested in this argument. I hook up a lot, and it frequently involves inviting strangers or relative strangers to my home. I feel more comfortable in my own home, and I have never been very interested in public sex. Also, bathhouses are not exactly common in the far-out suburbs, and I'd have to go a long way to find even an adult bookstore with booths, and neither of those venues are very conducive to the heavily makeout-intensive sex that I'm into. Father Tony finds public sex very affirming, and I don't see any reason why it shouldn't be, but calling what I do a death wish seems like a conclusion that isn't warranted by a few examples.

Between 2004 and 2008, there were skydiving-related fatalities of between sixty and seventy per year. I don't know what the hookup-related fatalities were, but I'm guessing that if sixty people a year were killed by men they invited home for sex, I'd be hearing more about it, and I'm going to guess that there are more incidences of men hooking up with strangers than there are of men jumping out of airplanes, though, admittedly, I can't back that up with evidence. Hang gliding and SCUBA diving appear to be similarly dangerous activities, but I am hesitant to tell participants in either of these activities that their participation is evidence of a death wish.


As with most somewhat dangerous activities, skydiving appears to result in death more frequently when people aren't well trained and/or they aren't careful. We can, and I do, apply a similar logic to hooking up with strangers. There are more and less safe ways to go about it. You probably want, for example, to avoid choosing whom you're going to hook up with when you're under the influence of alcohol or other substances. And you probably want to make arrangements before you're so horny that you'll lower your standards. Some people are simply sketchy, and I always avoid such people. I know that Fr. Tony thinks that any of us can be fooled by a "charming psychopath," but I'm not convinced.

People have been hooking up from the Internet for a long time, so the idea that it's just now becoming dangerous doesn't make sense, either. We're all aware of some fairly famous cases where Internet contacts have led to violent death, but in most cases there were big danger signs that were either ignored or embraced.

I typically do my arrangements via craigslist or email, but I don't give anyone my address until I've spoken to him on the phone. I do that more to avoid annoyance (a guy knowing my address and not showing up pisses me off) than danger. Maybe it's different in a more urban environment, and maybe people should exercise additional caution there, but any sort of phone contact leaves a trail of evidence and requires action on the other guy's part, and both of those things should help screen out the very few guys out there who would as soon kill you as fuck you. There's also a delay between setting the contact up and the action, and the delay further inhibits impulsive violence.


Of course, I deal largely with married submissives, and the thing those guys fear most is detection. They're not likely to rob me, let alone hurt me. The sort of person who'd bring a stranger home and allow that stranger to, say, tie him up, is someone who clearly doesn't care all that much about his personal safety. (I always wonder about guys who say they're willing to have me tie them up on the first meeting, so I mostly avoid them.) Although, here again, what's most likely to happen is burglary: someone who steals from his one-time bondage bottom can probably rely on embarrassment to keep the guy quiet. Someone who kills him has to be too crazed to realize that he's almost certain to get caught. And, again, drug-crazed psychopaths are not so common among suburban bottoms.

So maybe if you live in New York, you're safer going to a bathhouse than inviting a drunken stranger home from a bar. But not everyone lives in New York, not everyone is drinking when he makes his hook-up decisions, and not everyone has access to a bathhouse. The gay experience is not monolithic, and neither are hook-up arrangements. No activity is without risk, but that doesn't mean that infinitesimal risks that you can reduce or eliminate are always unacceptable. Just be careful. And maybe avoid skydiving.

Osculato Ergo Sum

Yesterday was a tough day at the office. After my very early morning romp with Sander (the cute ex-military guy, described one post down), I went to the office early and people kept saying, "Wow, TED, you look tired." I just kept saying, "Yeah, you know, I tried to go to bed early last night, but for some reason I woke up at 3:15, and I just could not get back to sleep." I mean, romps are a form of insomnia, right? Sometime mid-morning, my allergies kicked in worse than usual, so in addition to looking tired, I looked like I was crying most of the day. Fortunately, my co-workers are used to that by now. I would have popped a Benadryl for relief, but then I'd have had to close my office door, and I'm pretty sure the snores would have given me away.

I am left, yet again, with the feeling that I'm still not managing my sex life very well. There is so much follow up required, and I'm just not capable. On the one hand, I feel like I should have a standard spiel ready, "Look, that was awesome. The thing is, I'd happily screw you again at any opportunity, but I'm not always available, I work a lot, I have a partner who's intermittently present, and things just slip my mind, so if you want to play again, you'll probably have to take the initiative." On the other hand, I'm not enough of an asshole to actually say that, and if I were enough of an asshole to actually say that, I'm pretty sure that it wouldn't be well received. I mean, one or two people have said that to me in the past, and my (unvoiced) reaction has been, "Dude. You're not all that." And I'm not all that, either. Nobody is all that. And that -- maybe even all that -- is the problem: as much as I might regret the missed opportunities with certain guys, there really aren't any of them whom I would miss so much that I can't just say, "Next!"


By the way, I did get a follow-up email from Sander:

That was awesome. Though I couldn't help thinking that it was one of those that'd leave me sore in the morning...and unfortunately it was already morning. :) You sure can ride hard, but it's all good. We'll definitely have to play again and hopefully have more time. Let me know if there is anything more you'd like to do the next time...any special requests or the like. I'm open to trying new things.

It was a very nice e-mail to receive, but I couldn't help wondering whether there were particular new things that he wanted to try but that he was too shy to ask for. I reckon I'll find out. I just hope it's something like restraints or groups and not something like water sports.

Before I'd realized just how exhausted I'd be on Friday, I'd sent an email to Giancarlo asking if he was free. I already had a married guy who'd said that he wanted to play on Friday night, but married guys and Friday nights really don't mix well. Also, I didn't expect Giancarlo to be available: I hadn't heard from him since I helped him with his taxes. But he wrote back saying that he'd had a trip to NY scheduled but that it had fallen through and that as a result he'd be free. He said that he'd like to play around 5, and I was all, yeah, and I'd love to be free by 5 on a weekday in March, too, but, um, not so much. And then I'd gone to bed because Sander was due over in something like 4.5 hours, and when I checked my email the next morning, Giancarlo had said that he'd call me when he was done work to see when would be a good time to play. I figured that if it fell through I could a) really use the sleep and/or b) pretty easily score a replacement on Friday night.


Anyway, let's skip all of the crap that I just deleted: he got to my place a little before 7, and he was still wearing his pin-striped navy suit and his black overcoat, and he came in and leaned in for a brief kiss, but, well, Giancarlo is the one person on God's green Earth who likes kissing more than I do, so the brief kiss become an extended kiss, and pretty soon I had him upstairs on the bed, still in his overcoat, suit, and tie, with a couple of his shirt buttons undone and my hand snaked in, under his t-shirt, and lightly twisting his nipple while I sucked on his lower lip and he moaned. Men in suits: yum! My fatigue had vanished.

Giancarlo is easily overwhelmed by sensation, so I pretty much had him turned into a moaning pair of grasping lips by the time I had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt far enough to allow me to suck on his nipple through his undershirt. I climbed on top of him and tried to hold his wrists down over his head, but this is trickier than you might expect when a guy's got a wool overcoat on, so I somewhat reluctantly let him get up and undressed him. Very slowly and with frequent interruptions. I'm gonna guess that the guy hasn't seen a lot of action since he moved in with relatives a month or so ago. Anyway, I did eventually get him down to his briefs, and then I pulled him back on the bed for more making out. I ran my hands lightly all over him while I alternated kissing him and licking his very sensitive nips, and I found a number of ticklish places. Good to know.


We'd been at it for about half an hour when I finally unbuttoned my jeans. I'd tossed them on right after the shower he'd gotten me out of, so I wasn't wearing any briefs, though I likely wouldn't have been wearing any anyway. I pulled away from his nipple, and he took the cue to start going down on me. Nice skills. I fingered his nipples lightly for a bit, then pulled him up for another kiss, then I went down on him for about five seconds because I knew that if I'd gone for ten he'd have shot, and I was nowhere near ready for that. Then I pushed him back down on the bed, climbed atop him, sucked hard on his lower lip and ground my crotch against his until he reminded me that I was still wearing my jeans and told me that my zipper was irritating his cock. Oops. I rolled off him, and he said that he thought he should really clean up a bit. I figured that was his way of making his ass safe for mankind my tongue, so I handed him a clean towel and used the opportunity to put pillowcases on the pillows and locate the comforter. I wrapped it around him when he came out of the bathroom, and then we picked up again with more kissing and more sucking on his really excellent nipples.

When he started moving his head toward my cock again, I pulled him around, spread his cheeks, and dove right in. I mentioned that he's easily overwhelmed by sensations, right? He started moaning and gasping, but he resumed sucking my cock after a moment, so I kept on eating, getting more and more intense with my tongue, occasionally easing off to suck on his nuts. He flipped around to kiss me and tried to sit on my cock, but I wasn't done eating his ass, so I pushed him down on his stomach, got back between his legs and worked his hole over with my tongue until he was almost jumping up and down. Then I slid my tongue slowly up his back, licked his ear, and parked my cockhead up against his ass.


Giancarlo doesn't get fucked often, so he's very tight, and the last time we'd played, I almost hadn't been able to get into him. It was a bit of work this time, too, but his reaction was the much more gratifying this-is-overwhelming-but-good moaning rather than last time's I-want-to-take-this-but-I-just-can't tightening up. And he took it pretty well. I had him on his stomach, and I worked my way in slowly and then thrust away more quickly until he began repeating my name among other less discernible syllables. I put him on his side with one leg bent, straddled the other leg, and pushed back in like that. Then I put him on his stomach again and re-entered, this time much harder and faster. And then I put him on his back, bent him double, and pushed into him and fucked him while he panted hard. I managed to kiss him while fucking him in all those positions, and that helped him really get into it.

After a short break, I got on my back and told him to sit on my cock. The plan was for him to lie back into X position, but he'd only been sitting on my cock for a few seconds when he said, "Oh shit!" and began to come. I'd done my best not overstimulating his cock, but he couldn't control himself and shot on my stomach. He began apologizing immediately, but I told him not to worry about it, and I grabbed a small towel to wipe him up. Then we made out some more.

He hadn't eaten, so I told him to lie still, and I brought up some food (olives, hummus, crackers) and wine, and we snacked and talked for a while. He worried aloud that I hadn't cum yet, but I told him not to worry about it. At some point, he mentioned that he'd joined his (Catholic) church choir, and I teased him about hooking up with the priests, and then he asked me whether I was a tenor, which I knew (no one who's ever talked to me thinks I'm a tenor) he was saying that to provoke me, so I put the tray on the floor and climbed back on top of him, pinned his arms down, and began to kiss him.


Giancarlo moans and exclaims fairly easily, but it turns out that the best way to really turn him on is to go from his usually lip-sucking (and very hot) kissing to full on (but not stabbing, just passionate) French kissing. He starts to make the sort of noises that other guys only make when I'm pounding them. He was playing with my cock, which was getting very hard again, so I pushed him back on his stomach, lubed up, and started to push into him again. He was taking it without complaint, but I could tell that it was too much for him, so I pulled out, lay next to him, and told him to kiss me. I was using my tongue against his, with one arm around his shoulders, and he was getting extremely worked up, so I didn't have to stroke myself for long before I started to cum. I aimed my cock straight up to avoid too much of a mess, and I shot about two feet in the air, while he gasped and said, "A gusher!" And it was a pretty good shot, so I didn't bother telling him that it was only a moderate gusher by my standards.

His phone kept ringing while I toweled off, and he said it was probably his boyfriend. I hadn't realized there was a bf, so I asked if that was the guy he'd said he'd been dating last year. He explained that it was, and that the guy lives on the eastern shore, and they only see each other about once a month. I asked him whether the guy was a bottom, and he said that he didn't know how to answer my question. Apparently, they don't really have sex. He showed me the way the guy likes to kiss, and I could understand why. Their sexual activity appears to consist of him watching his bf jerk off. He said that they're boyfriends largely because the other guy wants to have a bf and because Giancarlo really likes the other guy's family. I guess Giancarlo had a twenty-year relationship when he lived in the Philippines, and the last fifteen years of it were platonic. A sexless relationship seems a bit of a waste of Giancarlo's talents, but, hey: more for me.

Sleepless Nights

I've been corresponding for a week or two with a twenty-something, married, ex-military bisexual who said that he wanted to play. Timing was a problem: I work lots, and he works full time and is also pursuing a degree. But he seemed very nice, and he said he hadn't been fucked in a long time, so when he suggested coming over at 4 this morning, before work, I said ok. Then he changed his mind and said that he'd rather come earlier so that he'd have more time, so he'd just pull an all-nighter to finish the paper he was working on and then come over. I said ok to that, too, and told him to call me so that I could wake up and hop in the shower before he came over. The phone rang at 3:15, and he showed up at 3:30.


I'd been very specific about what I liked to do, and when I said that I liked making out, he'd replied, "I don't mind kissing." In the context of married guys, this can mean one of two things. If you're unlucky, it means, "You can kiss me once if you try really hard but then I'm on my knees sucking your cock until you fuck me." If you're lucky, it means, "I love to kiss, but I'd rather not admit just how much." So this morning, I got lucky.

I actually said hello to the guy before I started kissing him. That's a whole lotta restraint for me, but since he did seem nice and since he lives close by, I figured there was potential for a return engagement, so I might as well be nice. Actually, when he'd last emailed me, suggesting that he wanted to have something more like two hours together, he'd said that maybe we could "get to know each other and have some light play." Oh, dude: you are not coming to my house at 3:30 in the morning for a chat and a cuddle. Anyway, when I started to kiss him, he seemed pretty happy about it.


His tongue technique is not quite everything it should be: he was always sticking it out there like it was a cock or something. But it wasn't a stabbing motion, so it was okay, and he was pretty cute (short, fit but not muscular, furry) and eager, so I was very happy on the whole. I walked him upstairs and put him right down on the bed and he kicked his shoes off while I went back for the lips. I got a hand up under his shirt and started to work on one of his fuzzy nipples. I could tell that they'd never really been worked on, but he seemed to like it okay. He was one of those mild submissives who don't really make much noise, so you have to read the relatively subtle body language, though there was some gasping and moaning when I shoved my tongue in his ear and when I got a little more intense with the nipples.

I figured we had about ninety minutes, so I took my time getting him to naked. His cock wasn't very large, but it was a good size for his body, and it was very perky, so I got him out of his jeans but not out of his briefs before I pushed one arm up over his head and went for his pits. When I rolled him onto his stomach and started to rub and then bite his shoulders, he pushed his ass hard against my jeans, then he turned his head so that we could kiss while I continued to rub against him.


I rolled off him, and he took my pants off and started to go down on me. He had great cocksucking skills, so I just let him go for a while before I pulled his ass around and started to rim him. Really nice ass, and he really liked my tongue in it. I bit his cheeks lightly, but mostly I stuck my tongue deeper and deeper into his hole. After some minutes of that, I pulled him back around to kiss him, and I stuck a couple of fingers up his ass to massage his prostate at the same time. Big hit.

He was ready to sit on my cock, but I was ready to eat his ass some more, so I pushed his head down to my rod and let him go down on me while I licked and pushed my tongue up his ass and reached around him to twist his nipples. A bit later, I pushed two fingers from my left hand and two from my right hand into his ass, and he finally started to get a little bit noisy. It was pretty clear that he wanted to be fucked then, so I handed him the condom, and he put it on me and had a seat. For someone who hadn't been fucked in (he said) years, he opened up pretty easily. Then again, I had eaten him out pretty well. In any case, he was tight but could take it, and when he sat down all the way, I pushed his back down on the other side of the bed until we were in X position, then we indulged in some coordinated writhing.

After a while, I turned him on his stomach and started to plow him deep. He got louder and more animated, and I plowed him pretty hard from that position. But I wanted to go harder, so I flipped him onto his back and pushed his legs forward. After a couple of minutes of that, he said it was too much for him because my cock was pushing on his bladder. I think maybe he just hadn't ever cum that way and was unused to the sensations, but whatever. I pulled out, we spooned and made out a bit, and then I put him on his stomach again. He turned his head to kiss me while I shoved into him. I went for maybe ten or fifteen minutes more in that position, and he was very happy, but we were coming up on 5:00, and I knew he couldn't stay much beyond then, so I pulled out and put him on his side. He had a very suckable cock, and I figured it wouldn't take long to get him off. He also had smallish balls, so I figured I could handle the load. I pushed two fingers inside him to press hard on his prostate, then I began to suck. It took about two minutes to get his load. It was hot.


And then things got strange. Here's a married guy whom I've just fucked and sucked off, and instead of jumping up for his clothes and/or the shower, he just wants to lie there and make out for a while. Hey, you don't have to ask me twice. We chatted a bit and canoodled until it was about time for him to leave, then I gave him a clean towel and showed him the shower, and we kissed a few more times as he got dressed. As he left, he asked whether we could play again. I said I didn't think it would be right for him to have to wait a few more years to be fucked again, so sure.

Then it was 5, and instead of going back to sleep for another 1.5 hours, I watched a bit of porn, jerked off (incredible cumshot), and came to the office early. Very tired, very happy.

Tuesdays with Judd

It's gotten to be the default case that if b&c is away, Judd comes over on Tuesday evening. And it gets harder and harder to write about because while we always have a great time, we pretty much have the same great time every time. It's pretty much a given that we're going to make out a lot and that I'm going to chew on his neck and his nipples and that he's going to go down on me very well for a long time and that I'll eventually get around to eating his ass and that after several variations on those activities he'll sit on my cock and that after lying back for a while and letting him bounce up and down on me I'll get up on my knees, bend him double, and pound him until he can't take any more. Then we rest, smoke some weed, and repeat some of what went before.


It's great, but you've heard it all before, right? I suppose on some level all sex is more alike than it is different. Say what? No, really. Sex with guy A is going to be more like sex with guy B than it's going to be like, say, taking the dog for a walk. This is especially true if you have fairly well-defined tastes, but even for me, a lot of different good sex has a lot in common. It reminds me of the time my oenophilic roommate organized a Beaujolais tasting. We tasted three different Beaujolais: a Julienas, a Fleurie, and something that I don't remember. And, you know, they were all different, and there was one I liked a little bit better than the other two, but basically, they all tasted like red wine. The Julienas tasted a lot more like the Fleurie than like, say, a double cheeseburger.


Anyway, Judd routinely spends the night now, and I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, he's warm and not unpleasant to sleep with. On the other, I sort of like my alone time, and he's a tiny bit clingy. Not emotionally, physically, as in if I want to get out of bed and sneak downstairs to eat some Oreos, I have to disentangle myself, and it's not always easy. Fortunately, neither of us gets much sleep on a regular basis, so he tends to drop off, and it's not hard to escape. I figure he's doing the sleepover to fill some emotional need (mostly because we don't fuck again after he falls asleep), so I just go with it because why not? He routinely sets his alarm for 5am so he has time to drive home, and that means that I get woken up, but I'm a very light sleeper to begin with, and I probably get more sleep when he's there than when he's not since I don't stay up late on the Internet.


The only thing different about last night is that it was probably the first time that I've fucked him (or anybody) while I've been really stoned. We'd gone at it pretty hard, then we lit up, then we were cuddling for a while, and I got it into my head that I should probably fuck him. I put it that way because I had the sort of dissociation between mind and body that I seem to get with weed. My body seemed to be more than happy to fuck him, but it was more a mental than visceral motivation. And there wasn't a really close correlation between the thought and the action. My mind and body got to the same destination, but it's not that clear to me that they took the same path. Anyway, I did end up pounding him hard and for a long time, and I was determined to actually get off so that I could experience a pothead orgasm, so I just kept pounding. I was getting closer, but not close enough, and I kept wishing that he'd tell me to cum because that usually works, but I wouldn't tell him to tell me to cum because that would just seem tasteless. It's bad enough that I'm the sort of person who reacts to being told to bust my nut or whatever: I don't have to compound the error by encouraging myself. But he did eventually tell me to cum, and I did, and it was very nice, and then we had the sort of stoned conversation that I have come so much to enjoy.


He also mentioned that he thought he'd liked to be tied down and fucked sometime so that he couldn't stop. He thinks that he might climax if I fucked him and refused to stop. In my experience, guys who shoot from being fucked don't need a whole lot of encouragement, but I'm more than willing to tie him to the bed and find out. Next Tuesday, I reckon.

Friday Fuck

Yeah, I've pretty much given up any semblance of subtlety in selecting my post titles. Why do you ask?

I'd made plans to get together last night with my buddy Andy. We've been friends for a while, and we've fucked for a while longer than that, but very infrequently. In fact, if you look at the length of time between when we first fucked and when we last fucked, it's probably longer than anyone I might still have sex with, but over those eight or so years, we've probably only had sex five or six times. I think there were maybe four years between the first and second sessions, and we really only became friends after the second, which was a surprise to me: I'd figured he hadn't really enjoyed our first time. But it turns out that he's a) not very demonstrative, and b) mostly a top.


Anyway, he's a nice and fun guy, and he's a very attractive Latin bear with an amazing ass, so when it turned out he was free to get together and play, I was more than pleased. I showed up at his place last night around 7:30 with a box of wine. Normally, I'm opposed to bringing wine as a gift for the host, but this was a hook-up rather than a dinner party, and, as I explained to him, I'm trying to convert the world to boxed wine one box at a time. He looked at it like it was lawn waste and opened a bottle. Oh well: no one said it was going to be easy.

Andy, on the other hand, was very easy. We chatted for a minute, then we went out onto his patio so that he could smoke a cigar, and when we came back in, I grabbed him and started making out. He excused himself to the bathroom, then he came back and started up the stairs towards the bedroom. I pulled his pants halfway down over his really quite spectacular ass as I followed him up.


Probably because he doesn't bottom very often, Andy's always in a hurry to get fucked. And I'm always trying to slow him down, with varying degrees of success. I tossed him on his bed before he could take his clothes off and began kissing him and then working his nipples, and he gave in for a while but then said, "We need to get our clothes off." He got up an dimmed the lights, and we both got undressed, and I went back to work on his nipples for a bit, but he pretty quickly rolled over onto his stomach and said, "Fuck me, TED." I rolled on top of him and laughed. I mean, I'm easy, but I'm not that easy. He was sighing heavily when he felt my cock in his asscrack, but I soon rolled off him and turned him on his side to kiss him some more.

He responded by trying to sit on my cock, but I pushed him to the side and sucked on his nipples for a bit while I did some ass recon with my fingers. Andy -- again probably because he mostly tops -- has a history of dubious anal hygiene that has always kept me from rimming him in the past, but this time when I brought my fingers to my nose, I didn't smell anything at all objectionable, so when he tried yet again to work his ass onto my cock, I was comfortable going with the nuclear option. I pushed his head down to my cock, and when he -- maybe with a bit of reluctance -- started to suck on the head, I pulled his ass over my face, spread his very full and firm cheeks, and started to lick. Clearly he hadn't been expecting that, and clearly he loved it.


It only bought me about five minutes, though. But I was pretty worked up, so I figured what the hell. I told him he could sit on my cock. He smiled, put a condom on me, added (too much) lube, and slowly began to sit down. I had to fight the urge to pull him down on me hard, and it took a couple of minutes for him to get used to my rod, but he soon had me all the way inside of him, so I told him to lie back, and we got into the X position, and he was very pleased. And animated.

But after no more than five minutes, he was sitting back up and bouncing up and down on my cock. I wanted to jackhammer him, but when I pushed him off me, he went straight down on his stomach, so I drilled him from that position instead. It didn't feel to me like I was fucking him that hard, but he was certainly making a lot of noise, and encouraging me to keep on with what I was doing. So I did.


That was pretty hot, but I really wanted him on his back so I could pound his prostate, so I rolled him over, pushed his legs forward, reinserted my cock, and began to hammer him. He got louder and louder. Sometimes he seemed focused and on the path to shooting and then other times he just seemed awash in sensation with no direction home. Like a complete unknown. Like a rolling stone.

But before too long, I figured it was time to move him towards orgasm. It didn't seem like I was going to be able to pound the cum out of him without any cock stimulation, so I grabbed him (he'd been hard the whole time) and began stroking him. He started to groan and gasp pretty soon, and I thought that was maybe a little too fast, so I let go and worked his nipples again, which brought a different and less intense (but no less pleasing to me) level of noise. He had pretty much given himself over to the fuck (the pounding does that), so I just kept thrusting until I figured the time was ripe, then I grabbed his cock again and began stroking him slowly, then less slowly, then faster, then faster still, and, well, it really didn't take long enough to change speeds that many times, and he was shouting and then shooting a very impressive load all over his hot, dark, furry chest.


I kept thrusting and stroking, and he took it like a champ, but I was getting a little tired, and I knew I wouldn't cum that way, so after a bit I pulled out, pulled off the rubber, lay next to him, pulled his mouth to mine, and we kissed aggressively while I fisted my cock. The great thing about stroking another guy off and then finishing myself by hand is that it really does make me think that my cock is thick because my hand's gotten used to something thinner. But I was also very hard, and while I'm never really fast, it only took about five minutes of kissing and stroking before I was shouting myself and sending long streams of cum up over me and onto him.

Then we both collapsed, and we didn't move or talk for a long time. I laughed a couple of times, but it was just the way the post-coital shudders worked their way out of my body. Eventually, he came to and got up to turn on the light and get a roll of paper towels, and, well, let's just say there were multiple reasons why we both needed to jump in the shower.


Which we did. Then we got dressed and I drove us to a local steak house that he recommended. I had an exceptionally tender and well-seasoned rib eye. The service was not so great and the waiter was not so cute, but the company was good. We talked a lot about Spanish movies. He was still outraged that at last year's local gay film festival, the sound on Chuecatown was so bad that he'd had to read the English subtitles. That cracks me up.

He insisted on buying me dinner, saying that I'd invited him for dinner so many times, so I let him. After we ate, I drove him home, and he indicated that he'd be happy to be the second top in a group session some time. I was home by midnight and horny again, but I couldn't be bothered to look for flesh, so I had some fun phone sex and fell asleep.

anywhere u are !!!

Life is hard sometimes, readers. I don't mean my life, for the most part, except maybe during tax season, but even when a day is especially long and tough, like today, it's just work, and it all gets better in a month or so. I'm guessing the guy who wrote the following craigslist posting, though, is going to be miserable for a lot longer than that. I suppose parts of it could be considered funny, but mostly it's just sad.

sorry about being an asshole (anywhere u are!!)
Reply to: pers-xpxbp-1071854081@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-12, 1:46PM EDT

its been a little bit difficult just to forget about who u are!! about what the deal was!! about the great sex we have... but man life is soooooooooo fucking unfair!! and maybe somedayn i will find a great guy like u!!! well i was hopping that u were romeo hahaha............. but its just a fucking dream................... and i cant take u out from my mind!! even when i said... that is better for me to not see u again!! cause im the one losing here!1 and just didnt wanna get hurt more................................

here is the history!!

horny one day..and looking for a some hot sex .............exactly here in Cl lol!!! well lucky me i find a three wya.... we set up the meetin and i went to ur friend house!! we had amazing sex... and it waesnt a three way cause ur friend...didnt do anythign and he leave us alone having the best sex i think i ever had!! u are great kisses and so sweet!!!! u are older than me/.... and maybe i am a such a kid.......... cause i told that day!!!!!!! if u wanna see me again! make sure call me back..or send me a message!!

u did!! u send me a message after 30 min a left ur friend house...and telling me that i was cute and that wanna see me again!!......................... i really like u!! but fuck!!! u told me also that u have a Bf ............ and u live with him!!////////////////////// i get crush... but i didnt care lol!!!!!!!!!!!! we see each other!!! i dont know why??? !! im the kind of guy who will never go out with someone in a relacionship/!!!!! but i did!! we text all day!! u call me at night..or i call u!! .for a couple moths!!!.................. but always was sex!! and u told please dont fall in love of me!! ........................ thats was the deal..i get it!!

and i fuck it up!!! ............. i felt in love like a MTF for u!!.................... and i told u yesterday that i dont wanna see u again..................... cause im the one who is losing!!!! u didnt say nothing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i erase ur number and i erase everything of u!! ......................................now?????????? what can i do? i miss u!! and i know i cant have u!! i cant have a tyny chance with u!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!................................... its that the end??????? well i make it to be that way but i was hopping that u gonna say something.................. like stay!!!!!! but u didnt..................... ........................ :'( i really do miss u..............

* Location: anywhere u are!!

That posting is a cautionary tale for everyone involved in casual sex. I'm unfazed by most of the potential hazards to myself: I know how to play safe, I'm a good judge of character, and the odds of my getting emotionally hurt are remote. I occasionally get pissed off at guys who don't follow through on their promises, but that sort of anger never survives until the next morning. But I'm more concerned about other people. There's some small (sometimes large, depending) amount of responsibility that conveys whenever you share the intimacy of sex with someone. Even with someone whose name you never learn.

And while I don't think I'm all that, I'm aware of the possibility of other people developing some sort of dependency on me. It's not necessarily an emotional dependency. Nike, for example, is currently annoyed at me because I haven't been at his beckon call for a while now, but he'd be just as happy if I found other cocks for him to suck. Clearly, it should be his responsibility to find cock for himself, but I still feel slightly (very, very slightly) bad about the whole situation. And there have been other occasions in the past where, despite full disclosure and adequate warnings, guys have come to want more than I was in a position to give.

Potential emotional commitments are easiest to manage when you and your hook-up are in similar situations. If you're both partnered, then neither of you is likely to develop an unwanted attachment out of vulnerability. (It's a good reason to hook up with married men. Also: they kiss well.) And if you do become friends, then you can enjoy an appropriate level of affection and emotional connection from a position of security.

Different people are wired differently. Guys who can't engage in casual sex without developing inappropriate attachments should avoid casual sex, and other men should avoid those guys. But on the whole, there's a lot more good than bad to be had from the sharing of pleasure, and the guys who entirely eschew hooking up out of a fear of safety (emotional, physical, medical) are probably throwing out the baby with the bath water. Still I feel sorry for the guy who posted the ad.


Unlike the guy who posted this ad. This one you can laugh at. Hell, email him and mock him for all I care:

Trade Labor for Blow Job - 46 (Bethesda)
Reply to: pers-v2qay-1073625126@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-03-13, 4:25PM EDT

Odd request - I need a mechanic to change my brake pads (front and rear). I will buy the pads and in exchange for your assistance I will give you a great blow job.

Thanks and let's help each other out.

* Location: Bethesda

Dude. Seriously? I mean, we all know you'd give that mechanic a bj for free.