Lack of sleep is the overarching problem these days, and it feeds upon itself. Fatigue hinders judgment, and poor judgment means that when you slouch home at 11 pm, instead of burrowing under the covers and passing quietly into oblivion, you might get on line and find yourself burrowing into something entirely different until 1 am, and that, naturally, leaves you even more tired the next day, which leads to more of the same behavior.
Anyway, when I got home Thursday night, I got online and got a message from the very local married guy I'd fucked last weekend. He said he could be over around eleven. I asked him to call me when he was on his way, then I took a shower, unlocked the front door, and got in bed with a not-too-challenging book. Eleven came and went, and there was no call, but then I heard the door open, and "Hey. I forgot your number. Sorry." "No problem. C'mon up. Lock the door." This guy, who's name I still can't remember, likes undressing at the front door so that he's naked by the time he gets to the bedroom. I closed my book, took off my glasses, turned off the bedside light (there was still illumination from the hallway and from my lava lamp), and waited. He was there a few seconds later, and I pulled him down on the bed and started to kiss him. I could tell that he'd had a fair amount to drink and had tried to cover that up with some sort of breath treatment, but the treatment had been fairly successful, and he loves to kiss, so while I might at another time (like now, for instance) wonder what it is that requires a guy to get loaded before he goes to get fucked, right then we just kept making out.
Married Guy (really a horribly non-specific appellation among the men I fuck) also loves to have his nipples worked hard, so I bit down and worked them. It's pretty clear that MG likes the punishment aspects of sex, and that's cool, except that he wants me to call him "faggot bitch" a lot, and boy does that get tedious fairly quickly. Sometimes I wish that I had a lot of money so that I could hire someone -- let's say Leonard Nimoy or Timothy Geithner -- to narrate an instructional video for submissives. It would begin by explaining to them that by sneaking out of their house in the middle of the night so that they could cheat on their wives by sucking the cock of and then getting pounded hard by another man is a sufficiently submissive and degrading activity -- hence all the drinking -- that additional humiliation in the form of name calling is entirely superfluous and even counterproductive. But it's not clear that they'd believe Spock any more than they'd believe me.
The weird thing about MG is that he also likes to be held and to be told that he's a good boy, and it was extremely tough for him to get up after we were done because he wanted to fall asleep in my arms. "It's fine with me if you stay," I told him, "but I suspect it would cause you some trouble at home."
Anyway, the sex in between all that was pretty good. He had brought some poppers, and the combination of that and the drinking was not entirely beneficial to his stamina. At some point after I'd stopped fucking him and let him go to the bathroom for a piss (Spock would also explain to the submissives that the feeling that urination is imminent when you're on your back being pounded hard by the top is really predictive of an entirely different fluid. I tried to explain that to him, but I reckon it's something you have to experience to believe, and, apparently, it's a frightening prospect until you do experience it. Or so the bottoms tell me.) he came back and said, "I'm sorry. I think I'm done." I laughed at him and told him he wasn't done until I was done, and then I chewed on his nipples a bit. Then we made out while I stroked myself, while he said he wanted me to shoot all over him. Fun, yes, but not what he really wanted, I was sure, so I told him that I would decide where I was going to cum. And when I got close, I shoved his mouth down on my cock, and he went at it greedily as I shot into his mouth. Frankly, shooting in a guy's mouth doesn't do that much for me, and it makes my cockhead sensitive in a way that's not entirely pleasant, and I'd rather spray a big load all over a hairy bottom, but I felt like I should give him what he really wanted. And he really liked it.
Friday night, I had a few guys lined up as probables, so I told Judd he could come over, which might not have been the best idea. I think the other guys reacted well to being in a threesome, but Judd was beginning to get on my nerves a little bit. I guess it's my fault, but he always presumes that he's spending the night now, and I really would have slept longer and better if he'd taken off after the first threeway and left the second guy for me to fuck solo. But, whatever: I know I'm partly just cranky because of work and the fatigue, so I make allowances. Still, when he tells the other guys who show up for a group that they should come back again sometime, it seems a little presumptuous, given that he doesn't live there. Part of it's just that when a guy's no longer fresh meat, I start to notice all of the non-sexual aspects of his character, and guys who are great in the sack are often disappointing in other contexts.
Take, for example, the first guy who showed up Friday night. I was ambivalent about having him over. On the one hand, from his pictures and our conversations, I guessed that I'd have a lot of fun with his nipples and ass, but I was tired, and he seemed a little, I don't know, Northern Virginian. You know, a civil service drone with a security clearance and not much of a sense of humor. But I'd said we could play, and I really hate guys who flake out on hook-ups, so I followed through. And when he arrived, he was significantly tastier looking than his picture. He'd called on the way over to ask whether there was somewhere he could stop to pick up a bottle of wine. I'd stifled a laugh and told him it wasn't necessary, and then when he arrived, I grabbed him and began kissing him and squeezing his nipples immediately, and when, half a minute later, I let him breathe, he said, "Wow, what a welcome." I followed him up the stairs, squeezing his ass and explaining to him why I preferred post-coital to pre-coital conversation, but I didn't get very far into it because, after all, there are only thirteen steps, and then I had to throw him down on the bed, straddle him, and get into it.
So, good kisser, very nice nipples, decent cocksucker, great ass. I had my tongue buried in his ass with my cock down his throat when Judd showed up and joined in. He was something of a distraction, really, but Mr. NoVA had never been in a threeway, so he was fascinated. He'd also never tried poppers and had asked me earlier where he could buy some, and I'd told him not to bother because Judd would certainly be bringing some (a similar inquiry about another substance revealed a) that Mr. NoVA didn't know what 420 means, and b) the whole security clearance thing; oh well) and when, a few minutes later, I mentioned poppers, Judd offered him a hit, and he went to the next level.
Anyway, he had a really tight ass, so tight that after about five minutes into plowing it, I told myself that I'd better be careful, but then I wasn't, so I'd shot my load in less than ten minutes of fucking, while Judd and Mr. NoVA were making out. I stayed hard for a while and kept fucking, more slowly, but then I was tired. I think Judd got Mr. NoVA off, and then he trotted off to the bathroom. He kept coming back to bed and lying down, then getting up again, saying that his cock was still leaking and that he didn't want to get any semen on the sheets. Dude, I have a washing machine. A nice one, even. Anyway, he eventually recovered from cumming and from the poppers, and then, alas, we started chatting, at which point it was revealed that his favorite genres of music include contemporary Christian. Oh my god. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Northern Virginia.
Anyway, he left and I was about to drift off when Boris called. He was supposed to call or email me earlier in the day, so I figured he wasn't going to make it, and he was still way the hell over in Towson, but I told him, "Sure," and at that point it began to dawn on me that Judd wasn't planning to go anywhere until the next morning, very early, probably waking before 6. Whatever.
It was maybe 12:15 when Boris showed up. I never know how quickly I'm going to recover after a hard fuck, but a little bit of making out and working on B's very fine nipples brought me around. But I knew that Judd hadn't cum yet, so I concentrated on increasingly passionate kissing and nipple play while Judd fucked B. Then when he gave up (I don't think he ever did get off), he instead started playing with and then sucking B's cock until B shot his load. B and I were kissing the whole time, except for when I was chewing on his nipples, of course, and we were making out when he shot, and that's always hot. Then Judd and I switched positions, and they played with each other. A lot of guys don't like being fucked right after they've cum, but Boris couldn't get enough. I fucked him for as long as I could, but that wasn't all that long. It was something like 1:15, and I was beat. I lay on my back and let Judd ride me for a while, and then there was more chat, and thankfully none of it involved contemporary Christian anything. Boris likes karaoke, but nobody's perfect, and at least he lives in Maryland. I reckon I'll see him again.
After he left, Judd and I chatted some more. He still hadn't cum, so he was in a somewhat agitated mood, but I was beat, and he and I really don't have that much to talk about outside of sex. Plus, I didn't want to smoke a bowl at that point, and I think he was annoyed about that, not that he'd say. Anyway, he fell asleep, but, tired as I was, I couldn't, so I grabbed my book and read for a bit, then I watched Alton Brown talk about pan frying chicken, then I went back to bed and slept until 5:30 or so, when Judd's alarm woke me up. I went back to sleep, managing to stay asleep until almost 9, then I went to the office, where, since it was Saturday, I only worked twelve hours.
My interaction with Judd is starting to feel a little bit like dating someone I'm really not all that interested in. The problem with fucking your friends isn't that it's hard on the friendship. The problem is that it's so much easier to find a good fuck than it is to find someone you really enjoy hanging out with when they've stopped moaning and screaming and started talking. I'm not sure quite how I'm going to extricate myself from this situation, but I'm sure it will happen somehow and that I'll feel badly about it and then that I'll be over it. Life is so predictable: it always ends the same way.