I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, earlier this week when my cell phone rang. The caller id said it was b&c. On the one hand, I figured I should answer it because he's my partner. On the other hand, since he only works as a consultant these days, he's got a lot of time on his hands, and sometimes he calls without a good reason: "Hey, you remember that pumpkin carving set that you couldn't find Sunday? I found it!" Which usually elicits something like, "Great. Why don't you put it away again so that we can have this exact same conversation a year from now when you've forgotten again where you put it?"
I've been experiencing a fair amount of deja vu lately. Like on Sunday night, when I was carving my pumpkins with the inferior but inexpensive replacement pumpkin knife that I'd had to go out and find at the last minute when b&c couldn't remember where he'd
hidden stored the one I bought the year before, and b&c came into the dining room and told me that he'd read that eating too many fresh vegetables might be giving him gas. I'm fairly certain that he tells me about the relationship between broccoli and intestinal gas every time I'm sitting at the dining room table carving a pumpkin. Or at least one other time when I was engaged in that activity at that location. Still, it's not like I carve pumpkins every night, so it was strange enough to make an impression. I tried to ignore the whole situation because a) talking about gas: ewwww and b) if I'm stuck in a
chronic hysteresis, I really don't want to know about it. Would you?
Anyway, there I was at my desk, and I figured: what the hell, I'll answer the phone. What's the worst that can happen? The last time I answered one of b&c's calls, I'd ended up at the opera later that same day, and while that's only about 35% likely to be a good thing, in this case, I ended up scrutinizing the delicious voice and torso of Erwin Schrott.
Alas, no Erwin Schrott-related events were mentioned in this phone call, but b&c did say that his friend Kip had texted b&c to see whether we wanted to do a threeway that evening. I was, naturally, exhausted from being out very late at the opera the night before, but it is not in my nature to turn down a threeway where one of the other two guys is a Filipino nurse. Even when the third guy is b&c.
B&c's and my history with threeways has not been as smooth as, say, Kip's body. In general, my feeling about threeways is that I'd rather do them with two guys who don't know each other or, preferably, with an established couple. That way, I'm the fresh meat, so I get all the attention. In our particular case, b&c wrestles with jealousy or some feeling of exclusion. I'm not entirely sure exactly how much of each is involved, but when he and I do a threeway together, it's often because somebody that he's been playing with wants a top involved. In the past, he would occasionally agree to or arrange a threeway and then sort of back out at the last minute, saying something like "You two go ahead and play," or he'd go out for a walk just before the third man was scheduled to arrive. Then I'd play with the other guy for a while and I'd yell downstairs for him to come and play, and he'd join us eventually. It was immature and a little annoying. Fortunately, he's gotten past that, though nowadays he sometimes sort of withdraws without leaving the bed.
If there are three of us on the bed, and b&c hangs back, then I just play with the other guy. I figure that everyone is responsible for his own pleasure in bed, and if b&c wants to pseudo-sulk, then I shouldn't reward him by coaxing. I reckon that sounds a bit harsh, but there is no reason to reinforce bad behavior. Once about three years ago, I asked b&c how his day had been, and he took that as an opening to rant at me about some imagined misbehavior on my part. So I just didn't ask him how his day was for another four or five months. I didn't want to be bitten twice.
Anyway. I got home around 7:30 that evening and headed for the shower. Kip arrived shortly after eight, having stopped by his place to shower after having worked a twelve-hour shift. It was his fourth consecutive day working a twelve-hour shift, so he was a little tired, but he seemed to perk up when he got to the bedroom. I was lying on the bed in my black boxers, and I moved to the side of the bed where he was standing and started to remove his jeans. I put my hands up under his t-shirt and stroked his nipples, then pulled him down to kiss him. After a minute, he pulled back and said something about how he hoped he wasn't being a tease, so I stood up, grabbed him, picked him up, threw him on the bed (he's really very slight), straddled him, held down his wrists, and said, "Don't worry. If you tease, I'll just take what I want." Kip responds well to authority. I started to kiss him again and worked on his nipples some more with my hands. B&c was still getting undressed.
I took Kip's shirt off and began working his nipples with my mouth, and he started to moan more. He was wearing just a jockstrap now, and while I was chewing on one nip, I was alternately squeezing one ass cheek and spanking the other. He seemed to approve. After a bit, he tried to pull his jockstrap down, but I pulled it back up, put his hand above my head, turned him on his side, and dove for his ass.
He and b&c made out a bit while I ate Kip's ass. He really loves having it eaten, so he was writhing a bit. I started to play with b&c's cock. It was really nice and hard, so I rolled Kip onto his other side and guided b&c's rod towards Kip's ass. B&c poked around the outside of his hole for a while, and I went back to kissing Kip and tugging on his nipples.
B&c didn't have any real interest in fucking Kip, so he moved around so that he could go down on me while Kip and I kept making out. He was doing a great job on my cock, too. Kip tried again to get his jock down, but I again stopped him. Then I moved a finger to his ass. He started to writhe some more, even though I was only fingering the outside of his hole. When I did that, he moved further up the bed. I'm a lot taller than him, so there was now pretty much unfettered access to my cock, and b&c took the opportunity to lube himself up and sit on me. It was great. Kip had moved far enough up so that I could eat his ass and play with his nipples while b&c bounced up and down on my rod. I could do that all day.
My neck was in a bit of an awkward position, though, so when b&c decided to take a break from riding me, I repositioned Kip so that I could kiss him and push my cockhead between his thighs. He tightened them, and I thrusted. Then he loosened them but kept kissing me. I moved to his nipples for an extended period and kind of lost track of everything else, but when I started paying attention again, I found that b&c (or perhaps Kip, but probably not) had removed Kip's jockstrap and was starting to go down on him. I was a bit put out by this because I figured (rightly, as it turned out), that b&c had just eliminated any chance I had at topping Kip. If you treat a bottom like a sub, he'll pretty much do what you want, assuming he also wants it (and Kip pretty clearly wants to be fucked, but he has some major physiological and psychological hurdles to clear first). But if you start to treat him like a top, then he starts to act like one. I went back to eating his ass again, but when I got my cock back near his ass, he told me it was too painful, even though I hadn't entered him and he had poppers.
Anyway, after a while, b&c went to the bathroom for a bit, and Kip kept trying to fuck my face. Ordinarily, I'd have gone with that because his cock is so small I can easily handle its so-called thrusting, but I figured my best bet was to pin him down, shove a finger in his ass, and suck him off. He took a hit of poppers, and then he loved the way I was hitting his prostate. I didn't have to suck him for long before he started to cum. Tiny cock: huge load.
As soon as he came, kip was good for nothing. He apologized and said he was too tired to help out much, which, given his work schedule, was reasonable. And we had been going at it for ninety minutes. I played with b&c's nipples for a while, and he finished himself off by hand. Long cock: tiny load. Then I quickly finished myself. Thick cock, humongous load. B&c went downstairs to finish dinner, and Kip and I chatted idly while he cleaned up and left. B&c and I ended up having dinner at 10:30.
I'm not sure whether there'll be another threeway with Kip. Hes cute and fun, but he's not as good a kisser as he should be, and he's a bit of a tease. He is, he says, in a monogamous relationship now, but he's had two threeways with us (and has gotten other blowjobs from b&c) while he's been in this relationship. I reckon his definition of monogamy is somewhat more metaphorical than my own, but whatever. If there is another threeway, I'll have to have a discussion with b&c first so that I finally get to fuck that exceptional ass. I'd rather do kip one on one so that I could put him in the restraints and make him beg for my cock up his ass, but I think there may never be an opportunity.
Anyway, you know that guy from yesterday's post? Apparently, he's a) mad as hell and not going to take it any more, or b) has compatriots:
I'm not sure what to make of this post. He has the same age and complaint as the guy yesterday, but his location is more specific and not compatible with yesterday's location. I don't think people live in NoVA and work out at Results, but what do I know about the workout habits of the young urban gay male? Not a lot. 
I can think of a few possible explanations:
1. The guy got the location wrong yesterday or works out at Results after work and before heading back to NoVA.
(At some point, you'll stop believing me when I say that I don't have an underwear fetish. I will admit to liking men in underwear. I like the way they look in it. I like taking it off them. I like playing with them when they're still in it. Still and all, my very favorite way for a guy to be dressed is in jeans with no underwear. But it's kind of like having to choose between the double chocolate and the strawberry ice cream. Either way, it's still ice cream.)
Whatever's going on here, surely there's some element of #3 included. He's had his underwear stolen three times and he's just now learning? I think not. I understand that twenty-something gymrats are often considered not the brightest people in the world, but I think that stereotype is largely perpetuated by people who are jealous of twenty-something gymrats. In any case, most of the cute gay guys I know are far too attached to their underwear to leave it out where it can be stolen, unless they want it to be stolen. 
So maybe he's not complaining so much as he is advertising. Stop by the Results on U Street and claim your free pair of underwear today! I have always said that if you can imagine a sexual variation, there's someone who practices it, and the idea that someone might get off on someone else stealing his underwear is downright vanilla compared to, say, figging. (The link is pretty much safe for work, but you may be sorry if you read too much of the text.)
I think that the "Location: NOVA" here is wholly superfluous. Where else would someone posting an ad like that be from? I will give him credit for conciseness, though.
I'm pretty sure that if you leave a guy's house without your shorts, he's entitled to add them to his collection. If it's not the law, it should be. On moral and ethical grounds, certainly, the request for a return of the shorts has no merit.
Ultimately, though, I'm trying to imagine a scenario where this guy unknowingly left the other guy's place without his own shorts that doesn't make him look like an idiot. And I'm coming up blank. Maybe his shorts were kidnapped by aliens, but aliens a) never return shorts and b) don't read missed connections. The lack of logic makes their giant heads explode.
Of course, those shorts might shag their way to another, another, and yet another guy, so his best bet is to stop complaining and start sleeping with as many shorts-wearing men as he can find.
I sometimes have trouble remembering the names of things (and people: I spent a day and a half in Italy trying to remember Helen Mirren's name; in case you're wondering, it's "Helen Mirren"), so when b&c mentioned that we were going to see AVftB, I had a sense that I might have seen a student production of it at MIT. When I got my program last night and read the plot summary, it all came vividly back to me. Slightly more than twenty years ago, I went to the Kresge Little Theater at MIT and saw the MIT Shakespeare Ensemble put on a stunning production of the play. I still remember a great many images and sequences from that production. I don't even know whether the Shakespeare Ensemble (or, indeed, the Kresge Little Theater) still exists, but back then, they were a kick-ass ensemble, and I saw them do very well a lot of Shakespeare and a few other things, including the Miller. 
It's not that the story in AVftB is poorly suited for opera: it's extremely well suited for opera. The problem is more that, as b&c says, "people have got to stop writing music for words and get back to writing words for music." Bolcom started with the earliest version of the play as the basis for the libretto and then composed to it. The result is a whole lotta recitative sung to unpleasant music. Every time either of the sopranos sings a piece of dialog, Bolcom has her go up to really high notes on words that really don't seem to call for a higher pitch. I can only assume that he knew I'd be having trouble staying awake. It worked: no one could sleep through that. The recitative is interrupted by the occasional song, but with the exception of the first act tenor aria, the songs are unrelentingly dreary. The dreariest of these is "A Ship Called Hunger," the second act bass baritone aria. Bolcom apparently through that in because the second act -- much more tightly paced and dramatic than the lugubrious first act -- had actually generated a lot of momentum, and he needed to bring it to a standstill. The unfortunate (and kind of cute) bass baritone singing Marco is forced to sound like a shovel scraping across a bed of gravel. When we were walking out of the theater, I was quite worked up about that aria. I believe I called Mr. Bolcom a "tenor-loving queer basher." I am sick, sick, sick to death of gravelly bass arias. Mozart wrote good bass arias. Gershwin wrote good bass arias. Jerome Kern wrote "Old Man River." It can be done. So why does anyone want to take the beautiful bass or bass baritone voice and make it sound like you're killing a grizzly bear with a belt sander? Damn. I need another picture of a scantily clad hottie.
Anyway, b&c may be correct that AVftB is rife for a good operatic treatment, but as I said to him last night, "Right. Because except for the music and the libretto, this one was really great!" And the singers (pity them) were all in good voice. They just had so little to work with. As just one more example, at the beginning of the second act, there are four drunken longshoremen hanging out near the docks. They start to sing, and I thought, "Oh, good, he's going to have some fun with a male quartet." I thought we might get something reminiscent of either madrigals or doo wop, but no such luck. It was yet another minute of tedium. Sort of like doo wop without any of the fun or interesting harmonies.
Can we talk for a minute about the limitations of metaphor? I was about to say that you shouldn't do your grocery shopping on an empty stomach, and you shouldn't arrange your hookups when you're horny because either way you end up with things you shouldn't have. But that doesn't make any sense at all. I suppose you could jerk off before arranging a hookup, but I suspect that would be counterproductive. If hooking up is going to be grocery shopping, then you pretty much have to do it on an empty stomach. But you don't have to be starving. I hadn't done a non-threeway hookup in a very long while (by my standards, anyway), and my judgment was clouded, so when the guy showed up late and said, "I want to discuss some ground rules first" and then (after I had led him by the nipple to the couch) followed up with "nothing goes in my mouth," I should have sent him away. Not kissing is one thing (and even though our heads were a couple of feet apart, I could tell his breath was crap), but no oral? Alas, I was already hard from tweaking his nipple, so I just pushed his ass up the stairs.
I was having a good time during all of this, but I was never anything like carried away. I was extremely hard, but I wasn't feeling much like fucking the guy, especially after I sunk a couple of lubed fingers up his ass and then needed to wash my hands. He'd clearly cleaned out some, but he hadn't done a thorough job. I pushed a (relatively) thick buttplug into his ass and wedged it against the bed so that he couldn't push it out while I washed my hands. 
We'd been at it for just a bit under two hours when I got him close and didn't stop. He was jerking very convincingly, and as soon as the first squirt of cum came, I squeezed his cock very tightly, hoping to make the next squirt fly farther. It didn't work, but it did get him very worked up and made his cock very sensitive, so that when he'd finished his load and I kept stroking him, he began to whimper and finally begged me to stop. Which I did, of course. I wiped him up with a towel, removed the blindfold, and untied him, and while he went and showered, I untied the ropes from the corners of the bed and put the sex toys either back in the toolbox or in hot soapy water, as appropriate. After some mercifully brief inane conversation, he was gone. I considered looking for someone else, but I wasn't sure I wanted to, and then I got a call from the ex saying that I should probably take YFU for the weekend to balance out the custody schedule, which meant that there wasn't time to look, even if I'd had the inclination.
I took Kip's shirt off and began working his nipples with my mouth, and he started to moan more. He was wearing just a jockstrap now, and while I was chewing on one nip, I was alternately squeezing one ass cheek and spanking the other. He seemed to approve. After a bit, he tried to pull his jockstrap down, but I pulled it back up, put his hand above my head, turned him on his side, and dove for his ass.
As soon as he came, kip was good for nothing. He apologized and said he was too tired to help out much, which, given his work schedule, was reasonable. And we had been going at it for ninety minutes. I played with b&c's nipples for a while, and he finished himself off by hand. Long cock: tiny load. Then I quickly finished myself. Thick cock, humongous load. B&c went downstairs to finish dinner, and Kip and I chatted idly while he cleaned up and left. B&c and I ended up having dinner at 10:30. 
