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.