Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Last Hurrah

I was set to pick YFU up from camp this past Friday afternoon, so I'd taken the day off work. I didn't wake up until around 10, and I had to leave for the Bay at around 1, so I probably shouldn't have even bothered looking for a hook-up, but Fridays around noon are a particularly fertile time for such endeavors, so I responded to an ad or two and I got an email back from a guy who said that he'd sucked me off before and was eager to do so again. I said ok before searching for his email address, and then when I did the search, I wasn't entirely sure who he was, but I thought that the previous occasion had probably been only so-so, and I thought that perhaps I should have spent the morning on yard work or something, but when I got out of the shower, there was another email from the guy saying that his date was arriving, so he wouldn't be able to come to my place. I suppose I should give points for honesty, but apparently it's human nature for something you didn't really want to become considerably more attractive just because you can't have it. Fortunately, I'm aware of human nature, and I knew the pique would pass with time. The guy had said that he'd try to email me again when he was done and still hoped to come to my place, but I didn't reply, which almost always puts an end to such things. In my mind, if you tell me you're going to email me again later, I shouldn't have to say anything, but many guys require an inordinate amount of encouragement, which is frankly just exhausting. So there was no sex for me on Friday.

It was hard to feel too bad about this, though, since I'd hooked up with at least one guy on probably every day since I'd dropped YFU off at camp. I say probably because it depends on what you consider a day: on the previous Sunday, I'd hooked up in the afternoon, and then I hooked up with two more guys, sequentially, after I'd gone to bed but before I woke up. Typically, I would count these guys as Sunday hook-ups if they'd happened after midnight but before I'd gone to bed, but since they'd both woken me up, sequentially, to fuck them, I'd prefer to count them as Monday, especially since my failure to hook up on Monday evening was almost certainly attributable to having had no more than two hours of sleep the night before.

Anyway, here's a brief recap of what went down. Let's go in reverse chronological order (like Memento, but with more sex and less violence):

Thursday night was Jeffrey, one of a series of brick-shithouse-built Black men who wanted me to fuck their faces, but didn't want to do much else. Most of them would go along with kissing, and maybe some ass play, but Jeffrey wouldn't let me do much more than twist his nipples. But he did give amazing head, and he got really turned on when I grabbed his head in both hands and shoved it up and down on my cock. After I came, he came, and then he left. It was late, and it probably only lasted half an hour from arrival to departure.

Wednesday: Federico is a hot, if slightly garrulous, Costa Rican submissive, whom I'd previously worked over back in the coldest part of winter. He showed up at 6:30, and we spent a couple of very nice hours together. He wanted to make out, have his nips worked, suck my cock, and get fucked hard. I complied. Or maybe I wanted all of those things, and he complied. I reckon it was mutual. Then he told me stories about his life as a party planner, while we cuddled and I gave his nips additional attention. Loads of fun. Two loads, to be exact.

I was pretty much beat after that and wanted nothing more than to sit on the sofa and watch Top Chef, even if this is a weak season, but I got a couple of messages from Bobby, who showed up at 10. After kissing him for a bit, I pushed down on his shoulders, and while I leaned back against the sofa, he started to go down on me, at the same time arching his back so that his crack showed out of the top of his shorts. Then there was a steep upslope to his very full and beautiful ass, all of which was a lovely thing to look at while he was sucking my cock, but I only enjoyed that for a couple of minutes before I needed to have the ass, so I pushed him toward the stairs and then shoved him down on them, lowering his shorts and shoving my tongue right in.

Bobby had asked to be able to set up his laptop and watch porn while having both ankles and one wrist tied to the bed, so we tried to do that, but the outlets in my bedroom have two slots, not three, and the plug on his laptop was a three-pronged number, so he had to rely on a couple of minutes of battery power. Probably just as well, since what he wanted to watch was porn of a woman being gang banged. "I want to be her," he said. Oh, what-the-fuck-ever, right?

Anyway, the other thing Bobby always wants but never can quite get is to be fisted, and I really just wasn't in the mood to fuck him, so I got some Crisco and started him out on the eighteen-inch, double-headed, thick dildo. He took about thirteen inches. I took pictures, but I promised I wouldn't disseminate them. I could tell from the dildo work that Bobby's ass wasn't as clean as usual (I know, right? Ewww, but it is what it is.), but I went ahead with the fisting, and, well, thank God for latex gloves. He did, finally, take the fist, but he could only take it for a few seconds. I took my fist immediately out of his ass and into the toilet. If you just keep your wits about you, a quick swish, a flush, turning the glove inside out into the trash can, washing your hands, some time with the wipes on your sub's ass, and washing your hands again, maybe twice, makes everything ok. Bobby was apologetic, but also very pleased with himself, especially when I showed him the pictures of his gaping hole. I lay next to him for a while and we made out. That part was nice.

On Tuesday evening, Shane came over after many weeks of our trying and failing to connect. He was another well-built Black man who wanted to go down on me, but he was also happy to make out and have his nipples worked and get fucked. It was all very good, and after I came all over him, he came all over me. As we were cleaning up, I said, "You have a partner, right?" He seemed a bit nonplussed and then asked, "Did I tell you that?" "No, it's just obvious." And then he was impressed with my mad man-reading skills. Dude. Men all think they're mysterious, but most of them are fully transparent.

So, call it Sunday night or call it Monday morning. I'd told YB, whose name I can't recall though we've hooked up a couple of times, that he could call me late if he wanted to play, so he called around 1:30 and said he could be over at 2. He is a giant of a Black man, probably 6'4 and possibly 250 pounds of fine, and he loves to kiss. We were in bed until about 5, though about an hour of that was sleeping. It was very hot, yet very comfortable. He has a splendid ass.

While YB and I were fucking, a text message came in from Mark/Craig (that's who he said he was when I said "Who is this?" in response to his first message), and when YB had taken off, I texted him back. He's a very cute, very hairy cub who likely holds off on mansex for as long as he can, and then when he can't any longer, he calls me. By the time he got to my place (6am), he was pretty much a crazed weasel, and when I kissed him, well, let's just say there was no subtlety on his part. I wasted no time getting his ass on the stairs and shoving my tongue up his hole, which made him both more crazed and more weaselish. I was really worked up, so I did push my cock into his crack and over his hole, but I had enough sense not to shove it into him, and soon I had him in bed, and we were making out again. Then onto his nipples. Then he sucked me, I ate his ass more, and I fucked him long and hard in multiple positions, ending up with him astride me, shooting all over my chest as he bounced up and down on my cock. Awesome.

I wasn't going to do anything on Sunday. Since I'd had a guy every day the previous week, I was going to take an on-the-seventh-day-he-rested stand. And that started out fine since I had a friend over for brunch, but then he left, and I got an email from Bruce, and I remembered that my recent string had in fact started on the previous Sunday and an on-the-eighth-day-he-rested position somehow lacked the same poetry, even if it did have the advantage (or perhaps disadvantage, depending on one's point of view) of being less sacrilegious. Bruce is a very fit and funny fifty-something married lawyer who can never quite get my cock into his ass but who is nevertheless a lot of fun in bed. He's a great kisser and can take relatively intense nipple work, and he gives pretty good head, but it's mostly just his intensity I like. Intensity can be a two-edged sword, of course, and when I decided to go down on him a bit because it seemed like a friendly thing to do and because he has a nice, small, suckable cock, he started to fuck my face some. I find that, um, tedious. But whatever. He ended up getting overstimulated, which meant that it took him even longer than me to cum, but that was cool. He's very post-coitally cuddly, especially for a marathoner. Distance runners, and attorneys, have a tendency to be bonier than one might like, especially post-coitally. But not Bruce.

Leo called me Saturday afternoon and said that he wanted to play. I hadn't been in touch with him because he'd told me that his brothers were coming to town for his birthday, but he told me that they understood that he needed his space and that he'd have some time free later. He showed up around six, and one of the first things that he told me was that when he'd told me, at our most recent meeting, that I could bite his nipples as hard as I wanted, he had been mistaken. So I took it down a notch, but I also retorted that he was full of crap for saying that he didn't like kissing when he obviously got into kissing me. He tried to talk his way around it, but I told him that I understood that he was reticent to kiss because it seemed feminine to him and he was afraid of appearing feminine. Yet another guy impressed with my ability to see and state the obvious. Anyway, there was plenty of kissing, and slightly toned down but still intense nipple play, and, of course, I couldn't resist eating his ass while he went down on me. I wouldn't have wanted to resist fucking him, and he obviously wanted it very badly, so I gave it to him. There was post-coital cuddling, and before I knew it, it was 8:00, and he said he was late to meet with his brothers. He was in too much of a hurry to bother searching for his underwear, so he just asked me to hold onto it for him if I found it. I found it in the downstairs couch, which makes sense given that that's where he'd been when I took it off him.

Saturday morning, after a long stream of miscommunication and accident worthy of a screwball comedy, Gunther finally came over. He'd wanted to come over late Friday night, but I had a date with RC, and I was pretty wiped, so I figured a full night's sleep was the best foreplay. It was clear from our correspondence that Gunther wanted more than just sex, but I still grabbed him as soon as he got in the door, around 9. He had to be at work at 1, and I had to be at church at 12:45 to sing at a funeral with the choir, but that still left us almost three hours, and we made full use of it. Gunther, as you might guess, is German and has a delicious accent. Plus he's a great kisser and a very sweet guy. The sex was great, and so was the post-coital cuddling/conversation. I was, in fact, somewhat infatuated with him, so I was glad when he started texting me a couple of days later and it became clear that he was equally infatuated with me. But he works mad hours and there are other complications, so it's probably just as well that my vacation time with YFU is keeping us apart for long enough for the infatuation to cool. There are times in your life when you're just extra vulnerable to the possibility of falling for someone, and if Gunther and I had had lots of time to spend in each other's arms, that would likely have happened already. Assuming things cool in the long time between the hook-up and the first date, it will either be a missed opportunity or a narrow escape. Or maybe both: who knows?

RC came over on Friday night, when I was already exhausted from the night before. But he's always fun, and after a couple of hours of necking and nipples, I made him dinner and we hung out for a while. He seems disappointed whenever I don't cum, but he's just going to have to get over that. Besides, dinner was great.

On Thursday night, Ben came over. He is, once again, a brick-shithouse-built Black man who wants to be fed cock. Except that he also likes to make out, and he has perfect nipples. Perfect as in they like to be worked and perfect as in they're gorgeous. I didn't even realize until an hour in that he really wanted to be fed cock. He wanted to cum, and he told me that would happen if and only if I fucked his face in the position of my choice. Happy to oblige, Ben. He made a big point afterward of telling me to get in touch with him again, but he didn't return my email. Oh well: next!

On Wednesday, an inexperienced cubbish married Latino guy came over to play. I am having some trouble recalling the details, but I'm sure that it was a pretty good time despite the evidentness of his inexperience. He's emailed me a couple of times since then to try to arrange a repeat, but our schedules are not a good match. Oh well.

On Tuesday night, Shawn, who is certainly among the hottest guys I've ever fucked, was meant to come over to dinner, since I'm trying to add some level of friendship to the hot, hot sex. He was working late, so he had to cancel dinner, and I was bummed, but he called me around midnight to ask what I was doing, and it was obvious that he wanted to be invited over. I really tried hard to resist, because of that whole level-of-friendship thing, but Shawn is like crack to me, so I invited him over. He ended up getting there very late, and then he was a little reticent about getting fucked, but I was really horny and I figured it was a ploy, so I shoved him down on his stomach and slid into him, whereupon he begged for harder. I obliged. Eventually, I put him on his back and bent him in half and pounded away until he could handle no more, and then I put him back on his stomach, and he begged me to cum, which always hurries things along. I may have worn him out. He fell asleep, but woke up quickly and left. I reckon it'll be another three months before I see him again. Maybe longer. Alas.

On Monday night, Steven, a divorced guy who lives just down the street, finally made it over late. It turns out that his experience had been limited to regular hook-ups with a married friend who had moved away a year or two earlier. There were a lot of things (kissing, having his nipples worked, being rimmed chief among them) that he had not done but now has. He was a pretty good bottom, and he definitely has potential with some additional tutelage, but he's also the sort to freak out after sex. Or even during sex. I had to talk him through a lot of stuff. But at least he had a good time, as did I.

Anyway, it was a fun week and a half. It's not often that I have so many free evenings and weekends to pursue hooking up, so I try to enjoy it when I can. Especially when I know that I'll be following ten days of play with ten days of abstinence while YFU and I are at home and then traveling together. You have to have as much fun as possible during the good times because the hard times always come again, too. It's all in the Bible:

1And it came to pass at the end of two full years, that Pharaoh dreamed: and, behold, he stood by the river. 2And, behold, there came up out of the river seven well favoured kine and fatfleshed; and they fed in a meadow. 3And, behold, seven other kine came up after them out of the river, ill favoured and leanfleshed; and stood by the other kine upon the brink of the river. 4And the ill favoured and leanfleshed kine did eat up the seven well favoured and fat kine. So Pharaoh awoke. 5And he slept and dreamed the second time: and, behold, seven ears of corn came up upon one stalk, rank and good. 6And, behold, seven thin ears and blasted with the east wind sprung up after them. 7And the seven thin ears devoured the seven rank and full ears. And Pharaoh awoke, and, behold, it was a dream. 8And it came to pass in the morning that his spirit was troubled; and he sent and called for all the magicians of Egypt, and all the wise men thereof: and Pharaoh told them his dream; but there was none that could interpret them unto Pharaoh.

9Then spake the chief butler unto Pharaoh, saying, I do remember my faults this day: 10Pharaoh was wroth with his servants, and put me in ward in the captain of the guard's house, both me and the chief baker: 11And we dreamed a dream in one night, I and he; we dreamed each man according to the interpretation of his dream. 12And there was there with us a young man, an Hebrew, servant to the captain of the guard; and we told him, and he interpreted to us our dreams; to each man according to his dream he did interpret. 13And it came to pass, as he interpreted to us, so it was; me he restored unto mine office, and him he hanged.

14Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out of the dungeon: and he shaved himself, and changed his raiment, and came in unto Pharaoh. 15And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, I have dreamed a dream, and there is none that can interpret it: and I have heard say of thee, that thou canst understand a dream to interpret it. 16And Joseph answered Pharaoh, saying, It is not in me: God shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace. 17And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, In my dream, behold, I stood upon the bank of the river: 18And, behold, there came up out of the river seven kine, fatfleshed and well favoured; and they fed in a meadow: 19And, behold, seven other kine came up after them, poor and very ill favoured and leanfleshed, such as I never saw in all the land of Egypt for badness: 20And the lean and the ill favoured kine did eat up the first seven fat kine: 21And when they had eaten them up, it could not be known that they had eaten them; but they were still ill favoured, as at the beginning. So I awoke. 22And I saw in my dream, and, behold, seven ears came up in one stalk, full and good: 23And, behold, seven ears, withered, thin, and blasted with the east wind, sprung up after them: 24And the thin ears devoured the seven good ears: and I told this unto the magicians; but there was none that could declare it to me.

25And Joseph said unto Pharaoh, The dream of Pharaoh is one: God hath shewed Pharaoh what he is about to do. 26The seven good kine are seven years; and the seven good ears are seven years: the dream is one. 27And the seven thin and ill favoured kine that came up after them are seven years; and the seven empty ears blasted with the east wind shall be seven years of famine. 28This is the thing which I have spoken unto Pharaoh: What God is about to do he sheweth unto Pharaoh. 29Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: 30And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt; and the famine shall consume the land; 31And the plenty shall not be known in the land by reason of that famine following; for it shall be very grievous.

Saturday, August 14, 2010


On Sunday, YFU was off to camp, so we did some last minute shopping, and then I drove about an hour down to the Bay, where a succession of strapping Australian lads directed us to the dining hall for check-in, and after signing forms and standing in lines, I took YFU and her stuff to her cabin, where her counselor was so obviously Scottish that I didn't even bother to ask. She, of course, was not a strapping lad, but there were plenty of those to pass by on the way out, and whether because of that or just because I was still breathing, I was nearly instantly horny, so I sent a message to Leo. I'd told Leo that I'd be available Sunday night, but I figured by the time I got back home, I'd still have a couple of hours before I was due to meet up with a friend for dinner and/or a movie. I also figured that I didn't want to have to either rush dinner or forgo a movie, so it'd be better to have sex sooner than later. Plus, it's always better to have sex sooner because then you might have another chance to have sex later, right?

Anyway, Leo got back to me about the time I got home and said that he could be over in about an hour, which still left us about an hour to play. He showed up about fifteen minutes later than he'd thought he would, but you can do a lot in forty-five minutes, right? Right.

Leo is a hot, closeted, early thirties guy from Trinidad, and for a while I'd figured that our first session, a couple of weeks earlier, would be our last. We'd had a great time, but he'd first texted me to say that he wanted to get together again soon, and later he'd emailed me to say that we probably shouldn't hook up again because he really didn't like to kiss, and he could tell from our first time that I really liked to kiss. Well, yes, although I had to wonder about him not liking kissing because a) he hadn't complained, and b) he's really good at it. The big plump lips help, of course, but he also had more than solid technique working. When I got the email, I'd nearly sighed and put him out of my mind, but he's a truly fascinating person and the sort of guy who would be entertaining to have as a friend though probably not to date, and, well, he was flattered me shamelessly, so I wrote back and told him that we could manage without kissing. Perhaps to explain my behavior I should mention that he gives pretty good head and is an awesome fuck. He gives pretty good head and is an awesome fuck.

Anyway, he was thrilled to get my response and eager to get together Sunday, so when he arrived, I just grabbed his nipples instead of kissing him, and he grabbed my crotch, and we took it from there. He wanted to exchange pleasantries, so I walked him over to the couch and ran my hands up under his shirt while we chatted. Then I pulled the shirt off him and started to suck on his nipple, and he said, "You can bite hard, TED. I'm a man."


I was going to tell him to be careful what he wished for, but I was too busy chomping down hard on his nipples, and he was too busy gritting his teeth so as not to recant what he'd foolishly said. He took it like a champ, for sure, and after another minute or so of hard nip work, I pushed him towards the stairs, stopping him halfway up to pull down his sweatpants, spread his cheeks, and bury my tongue in his ass. Apparently, that's my new thing. It does seem to set a mood.

Pretty soon, we were in bed, and I was very much enjoying watching Leo regret the whole you-can-bite-hard-TED-I'm-a-man statement while remaining too proud to retract it. I eased off a bit after a while, so that it was intense but still pleasurable for him, and then, since I wasn't supposed to kiss him, I started, licking along his jawline and sucking lightly on his neck, at which point, he said, somewhat breathlessly, "You can leave a mark if you want. I have no one to answer to."


I mean, really? I mean, his skin's pretty dark, so I guess it doesn't show up the way it would if you gave a redhead, say, a hickey, but, well, let's not pretend that I spent too much time thinking about it at the time because I am not one to decline a polite invitation: I latched on. Marks were left. And then nipples were again gnawed.

But there was only so much time, so I let him start to go down on me, and, well, I'm very grateful to any eager cocksucker, but in the overall scheme of things I think that avoiding teeth is more important than being able to deep throat. Still and all, when he had my cock entirely buried and his teeth were lightly scraping my shaft, it was quite pleasant, perhaps largely because my tongue was buried in his ass and the moaning was plentiful.

Again, though, there was only so much time, and Leo appreciates a hard and thorough pounding, so I handed him the supplies, and he condomed and lubed me and then sat on my cock, reverse cowboy. This is not really my favorite position, since the guy is looking the other way, making access to the nipples problematic, but I knew he wouldn't be in that position for long, so I just grabbed his flanks and gave a few thrusts to open him up fully, and then I told him to get on his back, grabbed his ankles, pushed them up near his ears, and plunged into him again. It was very fast and very hard, and here again I could see the macho-bottom dynamic come into play, and he refused to complain about the pain while the pain-to-pleasure ratio was unfavorable. In a minute, of course, the ratio became more favorable, and then there was nothing to complain about.

When I needed a break (hey, it happens), I lay next to him and started working on his neck again while I played with his cock (which never seems to get soft, no matter how hard I plow him: go Leo), and then I started kissing him because, well, who needs a reason? He didn't resist; in fact, he participated willingly, and I laughed and told him I didn't believe him when he said that he didn't like kissing, at which point he admitted that his objections were more philosophical than practical, and we made out some more.

We were running out of time (who could have seen that coming?) so I put some lube on his cock and stroked him off as I kissed him. He wanted me to cum, but I told him that time limitations didn't allow it. Which was true, even if I was also saving my cum for the next day, and a sub who lives for the big load. I cleaned him up, and we chatted for a while, and he got dressed and left. I cleaned up a bit, got dressed, and headed out to meet my friend for dinner. We had burgers at a cafe and then went to see The Kids Are Alright, which was very good, the inherent lack of appeal of lesbian sex to gay menLeo notwithstanding.

Monday, August 9, 2010


I was doing nothing much this past Thursday night. I had been busy getting EFU ready to go off for a ten-month stay in New Hampshire and was still trying to get YFU ready for a two-week stay at camp, and I still had to gather ingredients for the soup that I was driving 2.5 hours (each way) to make. There was, you see, a family reunion scheduled for this past weekend, and since my parents are too ill to travel from Florida and neither my brother nor my sister would be there (the reunion is for the descendants of my great grandfather), I would have skipped it, but YFU had originally expressed interest in going, and, more to the point, my father had asked me to go and "represent the family." Apparently representing the family means making soup, at least in my case. At least it's something I'm qualified to do.

Anyway, the extended family is both politically and religiously conservative, and I'm closeted to almost all of them, so the trip wasn't something I was looking forward to, so when George popped up online saying hello, I figured I'd offer him a massage.

George is an early fifties guy with a handsome face and an incredible head of salt and pepper hair. He's also the first guy I gave a somewhat serious massage to. He gave me some pointers after that first one, and I've been happy to rub him down ever since, not least because he likes to kiss while he's being worked on. So I headed down to his place, which is a cool, old house on a hill in Northeast. It's surrounded by a disheveled garden that's always fun to walk through. George let me in, and we made out for a while in the entryway. That's something we hadn't really done in the past, and between that and some other subtle signals I'd picked up from him when we'd chatted, I figured he might be up for a bit of a romp as well as a rub. On the other hand, he'd mentioned being exhausted (construction on his street at 4am), and I was pretty sure from past massages that he was an unreformed top, so it was a mixed bag. Still, he's handsome and fit and kisses well and has nice lips and is of Argentine descent, (Argentine parents but raised in New York by Irish nuns and priests, he told me. He has a faint and undecipherable and very sexy accent.) so why not, right?

But first the massage, of course. We went upstairs, and he took off the rest of his clothes, put on something that sounded like Latin jazz (I heard two different versions of "Summertime" while I was working on him), and lay on his stomach.

I had remembered, on a mental level, how much I like giving massage, but experiencing it again on a tactile and visceral level gave me some combination of longing and belonging that I really can't go so long without having again. I worked on him for about an hour, and he moved in and out of wakefulness, I think. I didn't ask, and after a few moans and telling me how wonderful the feeling was, he went silent. The music was very conducive to the flow of the situation, and it was just good, so good.

At some point, I had him on his back and was working his scalp and temples and kissing him, and I'd thoroughly worked both his dorsal and ventral sides, and I suggested that we move to the bed. He seemed a little nonplussed, but he recovered quickly and agreed. And it soon became apparent that he was indeed a) exhausted, and b) an unreformed top. So I ended up giving him a little head (he has rather a fascinating uncut cock that is on the small side, so it's just what I like for sucking) and then stroking him off while we made out. It was fine, but it was a little bit of a let down after the awesome massage. Plus, it made me horny, and he was obviously in no condition to reciprocate. And, probably, he never does anyway. So I went home and jerked off, which was also fine, and more than a little volcanic.

George was clearly wiped when he'd cum, so I told him he should get some sleep and suggested that we should try to not make it so long between sessions again. He said he'd like that but that he was about to go on vacation for a month. I reminded him that it'd been probably a year since I last massaged him, so a month was really nothing. I'm not sure he was entirely coherent at that point. He'd been too tired to put his clothes on and had walked me downstairs naked and then we'd kissed goodbye for a bit in his doorway.

I think I want to go back to separating sex and massage. They push different buttons, and I get plenty of the former and almost none of the latter these days, so when I finally get the massage table set up in my house, I should probably concentrate on giving some without getting off.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Men Who Don't Get Any

I don't mean me, of course: I continue to fuck up a storm at every available opportunity. Opportunities have been somewhat less common of late what with the return of EFU from New England and her propensity to decide at the last minute that she wants to stay at my place. I am always happy to have her over, of course, but I have had to cancel a lot of fucks at almost the last minute, and I dislike doing that. Anyway, the somewhat less frequent opportunities just mean that I take advantage of the chances that I do have, which is probably why after dropping the girls off at their mother's house late this past Saturday afternoon, I had four guys over (separately) before I slept. I did rest on the (Christian) sabbath, however.

This post isn't about those four guys, really, and those four guys were mostly not especially memorable except for the twenty-four year old with a girlfriend who hadn't had sex with a man in over eight months. I asked him why, and he said he'd just been too busy. And when I said, "Too busy to fuck?" he said that he just hadn't been looking. That was when I asked him whether he has a girlfriend, and he said he did. It seems like all of the twenty-somethings who want me to fuck them have girlfriends and get cock rarely if at all. I can always tell that they wrestle with shame over our encounters, and that bothers me a little bit, but it doesn't bother me very much if the desire overbalances the shame and, critically, so long as they kiss well and eagerly. Saturday's particular twenty-something was a great kisser (he appeared to be half-Asian, and he had really nice lips to go with a smooth body and straight black hair that was long enough to grab onto when I was fucking him from behind), but he was very nervous, and after we'd made out and I'd worked his nipples, and he'd gone down on me, and I'd eaten his ass, and I'd fucked him in three positions for about fifteen minutes, ending with him on his back and panting "fuck me" as I plowed hard into him, when I took a brief break, he excused himself to go to the bathroom and then came back and said he was sorry but that he had to leave because he was feeling light headed and because my dick was just too thick for him to take. He'd been taking it like a champ, and really, he'd been enough fun that I could have just let him go without worrying about it (especially given that I'd had two guys before him), but I talked him back onto the bed and asked him whether his light-headedness was from being nervous, and when he said it was, I started playing with his cock, and fifteen minutes later or so, he came all over his chest as I was kissing him and stroking his lubed dick. It was awesome, but I won't ever see him again, probably not even in eight months when his need again overcomes his shame: he drove all the way around the beltway from Northern Virginia, and surely he can enjoy a guilty rendez-vous closer to home next time.

Eight months is such a common response that I hear when I ask someone how long it's been since he got any that I sometimes wonder whether people are making it up. I'm pretty sure that Raul was being honest when he said that. A week or so ago, he and I finally got together after some back and forth on one of the sites where men go to connect with other men in some way that usually involves the removal of clothing. Raul lives with his nieces, and, as far as I can tell, he's both fully closeted and fully gay. Not having had sex with anyone in eight months (unless he said two years, which is another very common response among men who want me to fuck them) made him extremely responsive, and when I picked him up from the Metro station (after much difficulty finding him: he was not able to get to the station nearest me because of a downed wire or some such, and I had to go a few stations away, where the possible places for someone to be were much more plentiful), on the ride back to my house, I stroked his closely cropped hair, and he moaned and sighed like the proverbial man finding water after a stay in the desert. He was equally responsive throughout our very intense session, so I naturally followed up, and he agreed to come over again last night.

Because of where he lives and because of the layout of the Red Line, I suggested that he meet me at my office building and we drive to my place from there. He texted me at the scheduled meeting time to say he was running late, he arrived half an hour late, and then we spent another half-hour in the car with one of my hands lightly stroking various uncovered and covered parts of his anatomy. By the time we got home, I was nearly wild with desire, and after kissing him deeply but briefly, I started him up the stairs, but then I stopped him halfway up by pulling his shorts and briefs down, bending him in half, and burying my tongue in his ass. He moaned and then shouted, and I pretty much lost control: I had my shoes, pants, underwear, and shirt off within thirty seconds, and then I stood up, pushed him down against the stairs, and shoved my cock straight into him. No lube, no condom, and I very likely would have fucked him to completion right there and in record time if he hadn't stopped me because the stairs were hurting his knee, which he'd banged up playing soccer.

I was nonplussed at my inability to control myself, so I took a deep breath and directed him to the bedroom, and we went back to making out. I was keeping myself in check pretty well, but I'd unleashed an equal amount of hunger in him, and his kisses were nearly attacks. Incredibly hot attacks, but still. I shoved his head down to my cock, and he took it all the way down. I pulled his body around and began to eat his ass again, and it was all wild animal sex from there on, though I did get a condom on before I pounded him in various positions. I ended up with him on his stomach, and me jackhammering him until ejaculation was imminent before pulling out, stripping off the condom, and shooting a huge load all up and down his spine. I wiped it off, and we slept, intertwined, for a while before I drove him to the Metro. He was very happy.

Raul seems to want to be a regular, but we'll just have to see how that plays out. I've become aware that my emotions (Let alone my libido, but before the safe-sex police take me into custody, can we acknowledge that nobody's perfect in that area and that limited amounts of risk can sometimes be acceptable, or at least that the occasional slip-up doesn't mean you're evil; my sources inform me that while unprotected topping is significantly less risky than unprotected bottoming, it is not without risk, but of course the risk varies depending on whom you're fucking, and I evaluate Raul to be very low risk. That doesn't mean I'd do the same thing again, it just means that a very occasional lapse doesn't automatically lead to either hell or seroconversion.) are not entirely secure these days. I've been single for a little while now, and while I still am very much not looking for a partner, the idea of meeting someone available, interested, compatible, and irresistible seems not quite unwelcome, even if the likelihood of such an occurrence strikes me as highly remote. The practical upshot of this is a tendency to infer someone's moral, emotional, and intellectual worth from how good of a lay he is.

I am reminded of a passage in a book. I can't remember the title or the author of the book, only that it was a sort of crime novel or murder mystery set in a university in England. And in this book, there was a singularly unpleasant woman who was married to a sad sack academic who had mistaken her for a person of artistic death because of one thing she had said to him. He had met her in some hall or other in the college, and in this room there were many statues of old academics and she had said something very much like, "When no one's looking, do you suppose they dance?" And from this one glimmer, which turned out to be both a rehearsed line and a solitary example, he extrapolated a person who was much more interesting and expansive of spirit than was the woman who'd uttered the line. Similarly, after a particularly good lay, I will often take any little nugget of conversation to indicate someone really worth getting to know on a non-horizontal basis.

Fortunately, I recognize the error for what it is and move on quickly. If there's one word that I'm intimately familiar with, it's "Next!"

Anyway, Raul's moment of depth involved a description of how he enjoys visiting churches and photographing gargoyles. It sounded nice, but it's not much. Fortunately, what he wants from me is mostly physical, and he kisses well and has a great ass.

After Raul left, I had to juggle a bit because there's a recently divorced bottom who lives just down the street from me, and I'd implied that I would probably be able to fuck him late last night. At the same time, OA had been texting me and had said that he wanted to come over. I hadn't heard from OA in a few weeks, and we hadn't hooked up in well over a month. He has a fraternity brother crashing at his (very small) apartment, so he can't host, and the last time I invited him over, he had a family emergency (real or not) come up, and he sort of blew me off, so I was being disciplined and not calling him. It's not as if there aren't other men to play with. It's just that there aren't any men as hot as he is, so when he texted and said he had been unavailable because of his houseguest and told me how much he missed "chillin out" with me, well, I could hardly avoid asking him over. But he only said that he could probably make it, and then I didn't hear from him for a while, and the recently divorced bottom was sounding hornier and hornier, and the FWP that I was developing within walking distance had just ended his lease and moved out of the area, so I really could use another, RC's availability being as limited as ever (though I did finally fuck him, and that was very good indeed), so I told him I should be available later, and then OA finally texted me back to say that he was on his way over, leaving me to apologize to recently divorced, who took it pretty well, all things considered.

The session with OA was hot hot hot, as it always is. He was even more revved up than usual: apparently having a straight frat brother stay at his apartment was seriously keeping him from getting any, and after we went through the usual pleasantries and had chatted for a bit, I pushed him back on the sofa and kissed his soft sweet lips long and deep before taking him upstairs (he's the only guy who follows me up the stairs: I still won't let him fuck me, but I suppose I can give him something) for a couple of hours of amazing sex. It was less urgent and animalistic than was the sex with Raul, but it was certainly no less passionate.

OA worked really hard trying to get me off orally (he says that my cock is the only one he likes to suck: this is likely true since I'm sure he just fucks most other guys after they go down on him), but even if I hadn't cum so forcefully with Raul, he wouldn't have had success. It was an awesome blowjob, though, even without a sticky finale. I went down on him, too, and I was determined to get him to blow a load that way, but he wouldn't let me finish him off. I figured he should be able to cum twice, but he figured it differently and made me stop. Eventually, after back and forth and back and forth and back and forth a few more times even, I was lying on the bed, and he was kneeling over me, and we were kissing, and he was holding our cocks together and stroking them, and he came, hard. And then it was late, so he only collapsed for a couple of minutes before jumping up and leaving. It was well past midnight, so I couldn't blame him, except perhaps for having driven through DC on the way to my place, rather than having taken the beltway, which would have gotten him to me probably half an hour earlier. Anyway, I explained to him the better way back to his place, and he was gone. Who knows when I'll see him again, but that I will see him again is not to be doubted.