Pretty

A few evenings ago, I was lying in post-ejaculatory repose in OA's bed, watching him buzz about his bedroom in post-ejaculatory non-repose and explain to me about how his old friends who still live in the hood will never get out of the hood because they have only three kinds of role models -- NBA players, drug dealers, and rappers -- and these three sets of people are really all the same because each of them wants to be the other two. He explained it to me in great detail, which I can't remember at all now, and it all made sense while he was saying it: it was very like having the best seats imaginable for an August Wilson play.

The sex had been very good, too, of course, leaving me to wonder yet again whether a) the inevitable tension between two tops creates the best sex or b) I'm just besotted with his body and skills. I'm not sure it matters. It was his fantastic body that got me in trouble a minute or two later when he stood up to do something (the boy knows two speeds: full and asleep), and I said aloud how pretty he is.

In an unrelated but related matter, I recently spent about four hours proofreading EFU's thesis, and most of my criticisms had to do with word choice. Apparently, pretty is a bad one.


OA launched into a long explanation of why he hates being called pretty, and then we went through a series of other words that he doesn't like, and I think the only thing he agreed to was "handsome," though in retrospect, I didn't bother pitching either "hot" or "sexy," both of which are probably acceptable. OA wasn't angry at me: he was mostly just rolling his eyes at what he considers my rhetorical excess. I, in turn, was rolling my eyes at his horror of anything that smacks of femininity.


In fact, I hadn't heard from OA in about ten days before Monday. The last time I'd texted him, he'd said he'd be out of town for the weekend, and when I didn't hear from him the following weekend, I figured he'd lost interest when I hadn't been forthcoming with the bottoming thing. But then he texted me and asked how I was, and I replied, and he mentioned how much he'd like to get into my ass, and I said that I liked him and we had great chemistry but we could have great chemistry without ass fucking, and he said it wasn't the same thing, and I told him that the white bottoms with ample backsides who'd be thrilled to bottom for him were legion, and he told me that he liked me because I was "all man," and I thought, but didn't text, that maybe he wouldn't think that if I bottomed for him, and I asked him if he was free, and he said when, and at seven, I was pulling up to his place, and then two hours later, I was calling him pretty, and I guess I won't do that again.

I told OA that he was overly concerned with appearing non-feminine, and he said, "You're probably right," and I said, "Probably?" and he said, "Yeah, probably," and then I kissed him, and he made fun of me for liking to kiss so much, and I told him he shouldn't have such soft, fat lips if he didn't want them to be kissed, and he smiled, and I told him that he should really just understand that if I call him pretty, which I guess I won't do again anyway, it's just a compliment. When he started back in on the connotations, I told him that any word you use to describe someone carries another side: a primarily complimentary word carries a dark side; a primarily insulting word carries some positive connotations. I explained that when I said cute, I was focusing on the physical attractiveness; he told me he was focusing on the adolescent connotations. Then I told him that "adolescent" was also a mixed word: he was focusing on the immaturity side, but there was also the youthful energy side, but he, having never once in his life lacked youthful energy, couldn't quite get there.

And then he had to do laundry, so I got dressed and kissed him goodbye. I sure hope OA is a wave I can ride for a long time, but then again, when I thought he'd lost interest, I wasn't particularly upset. Too many fish in the sea, I reckon.


In point of fact, I have been having rather a good run of luck with attractive Black men lately, and while none of them has quite the combination of charm, energy, intelligence, and cis-positional tension that OA provides, they are all delicious, pretty even, and the rest of them have the virtue of being bottoms.

Ubercute, twenty-fourish Victor appears to have moved on, or perhaps I've moved on: it's not always easy to tell how things whimper out with fuckbuddies. He had encouraged me to call him to get together on a couple of occasions and then blew me off, and I decided that I preferred not to be the one doing the asking any more. I have seen him show up on more sites lately, and there are plenty of people on those sites who must be happy to pursue him and who are more available and closer for booty calls. I am often thwarted by geography, and surely the same thing will happen eventually with Zach, who eventually cannot help failing to appreciate the half-hour it takes to get to me.

For now, though, he doesn't seem to mind the drive, and when he was over last week, I took his usual moderate submission a step farther and buckled the wrist restraints onto him. I have decided to leave the wrist restraints tied to the ropes and the ropes tied to the bed posts on an indefinite basis. It's so much easier, and there are so many guys who accept them without protest. They further excited Zach, who got a little bit loud when I proceeded to put his ankles on either side of his ears and pound. Heaven.


Speaking of loud, I worried about hearing damage when I finally got a return visit from an exceptionally sexy married guy who had been with me a few months earlier. Prior to meeting me, he tended to go two years between hooking up with guys, so I reckon three months is something of a conquest. I also slid his wrists into the restraints and then proceeded to chow down on his nipples, and he began growling into my ear, and the growl grew into something of a shout, but not into a "No" so I just adjusted my position to protect my eardrum and kept chewing. He has a very interesting cock that's thick in the shaft but then much narrower at the base, so it's almost like a fruit on a tree. It's almost always fun to make guys cum when their upper bodies are restrained and they only have legs free to thrash. And it was certainly fun in this case. He had stopped growling by then, and I was kissing him when he shot. Awesome.


Speaking of awesome. In response to a craigslist ad, another drop-dead-gorgeous brick shithouse of a Black guy showed up at my door wearing a t-shirt indicating that he had once wrestled for an Ivy League college. The t-shirt turned out to be authentic, and while he said that it had happened a "long time ago," he appeared to have only improved with age. There had been some delay in communication -- I had thought that he might not be coming -- so he ended up getting to my place late. It was a Saturday night, and he slept over, but as it happened he had an engagement to play the piano for a church service the next morning, so he had to leave early, and there wasn't time for a morning fuck. Which was a shame: he had an ass that wouldn't quit, and he was a great kisser. Also moderately submissive, an educational consultant for the government, a former high school music teacher and choir director, and a really nice guy. Now there's a guy I'd date. Or I would if he weren't geographically and otherwise unavailable. He barely has time to hook up, let alone date. And to be honest, I don't know if he'd be interested if he did have time. Still, he appears interested in hooking up again, so maybe we'll do that again when our schedules align again. In 2012. Oh well.

Speaking of long intervals between drinks, Dennis emailed me in response to a similar ad. He was in Seattle, where he lives with his partner, but he had to come back to the area to attend his father's funeral and clean out his house. He'd lost my email address, but had, apparently, been watching CL, hoping for my ad to appear. He's very happy with his partner, who is a dedicated bottom, but Dennis wants to bottom occasionally (very occasionally), so he was excited about the prospect of playing with me. I was equally excited: I first played with him ten years ago, when he was in college, then I hadn't seen him for years after he moved away, and then we reconnected a few years back. He gets more and more handsome with time, and he's thirty now and has an amazing body. He had expressed some doubt about whether he'd be able to take my cock, but I knew from experience that I could open that ass. It was a very passionate session, and he, too, spent some time in the wrist restraints, though not until he'd gone down on me for an extended period, encouraging me to tell him what a good cocksucker he is.

Not everyone appreciates the restraints, and sometime last week a young (twenty-three or twenty-four, I think) guy whom I saw on one of the hook-up sites came over, and after we'd made out for a long time and I'd fucked him for a similarly long time, I decided to restrain him and get him off. He didn't resist, but I sensed there was an issue, so I asked, "Are these bothering you?" and when he replied, "Kinda," I took them off, then resumed sucking on his nipples and stroking him off until he screamed and came.


Yesterday, I had another hot dark-skinned guy in the same position, though without the restraints, since we were in his bedroom in Rehoboth, he having contacted me on Grindr (I hate that spelling). I had just installed the app, which I had not really expected to yield any results other than unproductive chatting, but this guy turned out to be all that plus a bottle of Tequila. (Speaking figuratively, of course: I am among the very few who go to Rehoboth and don't engage in any significant drinking.) He had a looooong cock, and after we'd made out extensively and I'd chewed his nipples to the point of screaming and tenderness and he'd gone down on me, I put him on his back and chewed his nipples some more while I stroked him until he screamed and screamed some more and then shot a huge load all over his stomach and my face. He was hard again half an hour later when I finally left, but almost immediately after he came, he got up to fetch a towel, and I asked him to either let me use it or find another way to get the cum off my face, so he licked it off. Then we cuddled for as long as he could stay still (not very long) and then he insisted on giving me a massage and then I told him that I really had to get on the road and then we kissed a little more and then there was the looooong cock, all erect again, but I had to leave. He wants to see me again, and I got an email inviting me back for an entire weekend. He's a composer, and he's grrrrrreat! in the sack, but, well, that's a long way to go for a romp, and: traffic. We'll see.