Thwarted

So. I haven't been posting much lately for the most obvious of reasons: I haven't been fucking around very much. B&c has been home since the beginning of April or so, and he isn't going anywhere until the second half of June. I have sex with him, of course, but it's mostly unremarkable sex (except maybe for yesterday, but just because something is worth remarking on doesn't mean that I'm going to). In part that's because he has no interest in being rimmed and because his nipples just can't take the sort of hard work that they used to take, but in part it's just that I require variety. If I hook up with a guy who's really awesome in the sack, I can pretty much count on his awesomeness declining asymptotically over time, beginning with the third session -- or sometimes the second. And then I only stay sexually interested if the guy is intelligent and has a kind and interesting personality. And let's face it, guys who are great in the sack and have those attributes are usually only temporarily single. Or they're partnered, so their availability is highly limited because they can't or won't tell their wives or boyfriends that they want to fuck around on the side.


So that pretty much leaves the casual hook-up, and that's just not easy to pull off when your partner's always around. I realize this whole lament sounds callous, but if you add to the mix the fact that I'm usually out of the house from before 8am until after 7pm and that b&c uses that time to chase other cock (which, of course, he is entirely free to do, and which I encourage), then I end up feeling pretty bummed. Approximately one-tenth of the bummedness is envy because my partner gets more extracurricular sex than I do (and he's a bottom, for crying out loud), but ninety percent of it is simply the petulance of a child who's had his candy taken away from him. Yes, dammit, I like my meat and vegetables, but that doesn't mean that I don't still want dessert. Two desserts, please.

Anyway, it's gotten so bad that I've gone to unusual lengths. For example, two nights ago, the uberhot former gymnast whom I pounded a couple of weeks ago texted me and asked if I wanted to fuck, and I turned to b&c and said, "Do you mind if this guy comes over and I pound him in the other bedroom? I'd ask you to join, but you're really not his type, and he doesn't suck cock." And b&c said, "Go ahead," but he seemed to think about it for a while before he said that. And now that I'm thinking about it, he might have delayed simply because it was 1:30 am and he was half asleep, but I still felt bad about asking. I felt worse when it turned out that former gymnast guy -- despite having told me, two weeks earlier, that his truck would be out of the shop the next day -- wanted me to come pick him up. There are limits, people. I told him I couldn't and then went back to sleep.


I emailed former gymnast guy yesterday morning and told him that b&c was okay with me plowing him in one of the other bedrooms, and that I very much wanted to eat and fuck his ass, and he called me yesterday evening, but something happened. I'm not exactly sure what, but I was a little uncomfortable with the call because I don't much like talking on the phone, generally, and talking explicitly about sex on the phone when b&c is nearby, particularly, and fgg asked me whether something was wrong and why I was giggling, and, trust me, my voice is at least 1.5 octaves too low to ever be described as giggling. Anyway, I pulled myself together and asked if he wanted to get together, and, when he'd said yes, when he was available, and then his voice quickened, and he said, "Shit! I have to go. I'll call you back in a minute," and then I didn't hear from him again. And, dude, I don't giggle. Also: your partner knows that you fuck around. You've got really recognizable ads on several sites, and a couple of weeks ago, you were out for almost two hours in the middle of the night, so why don't you just have the conversation already? I had that conversation -- not that conversation, but a conversation about that conversation and the failure of so many other couples to have that conversation -- with b&c at dinner last night, when he was telling me about a guy who fucks him when he goes to Jordan but who can't tell his own partner about it because both he and his partner get jealous when the other so much as looks admiringly at another guy. Seriously, people, what are you supposed to do when you go on a tropical vacation together if you're not allowed to say, "Wow. Nice ass on that one"? Discuss the local flora?

Anyway, I had mixed feelings about the interrupted conversation with fgg. On the one hand, b&c and I had just had really great sex (he's given up smoking again) and then a large dinner, so I probably wasn't ready to pound him just then. On the other hand, I was really hoping to pound him sometime, like maybe ninety minutes later, when I'd had a little more time to digest. But he's not worth worrying about, and he's especially not worth following up with, so, despite the abundant edibility and fuckability of his very fine ass, I'll just forget about him, and if he calls at a time when I can actually do him, I'll think it a nice surprise.


The other unusual lengths that I've gone to have involved arranging threeways. This is always a touchy subject with b&c because he always says that he's willing, but then he's never into it, or he bails at the last minute and then sort of joins in half-heartedly maybe half an hour after I've started with the other guy. These last two times, however, it's been the other (married) guys who have bailed, which was both annoying (75%) and frustrating (25%). One of them had a legitimate excuse and called me a few days after he'd canceled to ask if he could come over (but YFU was over, so nuh uh) and to suggest that we try again another time. And he's twenty-nine and cute, so I think b&c will really like him. But when?

The other guy is not so young and not so cute, but he's a very good lay. Sadly, he canceled at the last minute, probably because I insisted that he not be drunk when he came over. He emailed me later with an extremely lame excuse, and I told him to fuck off. There's always a silver lining though: after I told him to fuck off, he emailed me again and told me not to "be a dickweed." I haven't been called a dickweed since I was in middle school. It made me feel young again. Verily, there was much laughter. Dickweed. I can't even type it without chuckling. But not giggling.

Anyway, I'm going to keep looking until I find just the right vers/bttm horndog to be the meat in our sandwich. I'm sure he's out there.