Thorsday

Hey, it's Thursday. That somehow reminds me that I used to laugh at men who had names for their penises. And then I would tell them that my penis' name was Thor. I see no reason for my cock to have a name of its own, but I can't imagine why, if you were going to the trouble of naming your genitalia, you would choose any other name.

Do you remember those visual puzzles from kids' magazines? You know: how many things can you spot wrong with this picture? I think that any commentary from me on the following craigslist post would be superfluous, but as an exercise for you, how many things can you find wrong with the following person ad?

seeking a white male (dc/md)
Reply to: pers-zwqr9-1070978248@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-11, 8:33PM EDT

Hello all. I am looking for something very specific. I'm hoping to find a white male, college educated and highly successful. I ask that you be between 5'8 to 5'10, and in age between 28-33. If you have a history of depression then that works too. I also ask that you have no family, been there done that. For these purposes it just wouldnt work. Hope to hear from you soon.

* Location: dc/md

Anyway, I'm pretty exhausted today, and I think most of that is leftover exhaustion from Tuesday night. Judd came over, and, since I felt like I'd taken him a bit for granted during our fourgy from Friday, I attacked him with particular ferocity when he got in the door. I didn't let him get undressed before throwing him down on the bed and going at him. I'm sure his nipples are still sore, but that's the way he likes it.

When I did get him undressed, much later, I pounded him with extra force until he couldn't take any more, then we shared a bowl, and I had a small amount of wine, and then I pounded him again while we enjoyed the high, and then we had the sort of conversation that I've come to expect from 420: expansive and entertaining but hard to remember.

My admittedly limited experience makes me think that there's really no point in smoking pot if it's not done in the context of sex. I'm sure it can be fun and all, but it seems better as a magnifier and distorter of sexual pleasure. Anyway, we had an awesome time, and he slept over. Which always seems like a better idea than it is: I had some trouble getting to sleep, and he had to leave around 5 to get home in time to shower and get to work. I went back to sleep after he left, but I didn't get much rest out of it. Still, it was easily worth the fatigue the next day.


The fatigue didn't keep me from pursuing the twenty-something guy who'd begged to be tied to my bed over the weekend. We'd agreed that he'd come over last night, and I'd get very intense with him, but during the day, he found someone very hung to come to his place, fuck his throat, and piss on him, and he said that he figured that would hold him for a while. I told him he was an ass, and he said that he had just been keeping his options open and that I would have done the same thing. Not true, but whatever. I emailed the fifty-year-old, near-virgin, Desi married guy who'd been wanting to see me, and he said that he could come by for an hour around 8.

He was clearly nervous when he arrived, but I wasn't having any of his shyness, so when he protested a bit when I grabbed him and kissed him as soon as he got in the door, I responded by kissing him more. Then I took him upstairs, where all his reserve fell away, and he came at me like a crazed weasel. He was a great kisser, and he responded pretty well to everything else. I'm pretty sure that no one had ever worked his nipples or eaten his ass with anything like the intensity I brought to the task. He had, apparently, only been fucked once, and he assured me that there was some combination of his ass being too tight and my cock being too thick that would prevent successful penetration. I assured him that I would find a way to get my cock into his ass.


I was right.

He was very responsive, and he had the nice brown body and small uncut cock that I love so much in Desi guys. Not that his cock ever got hard, but he didn't care about that. He was all about sucking my cock, and when, after a lengthy session in his mouth and a less lengthy session up his ass, I put my cock in my own hand and continued to kiss him until I shot clear over his head, well: kid, meet candy shop.

And then we had a lengthy discussion about politics and economics during which it was revealed that he's mostly your standard nice guy liberal, with just a soupcon of black-helicopter conspiracy nut thrown in for seasoning. He wants a repeat session, and he was a lot of fun, so I figure turning him into a lives-for-dick anal bottom can be my next project. It certainly seems a more likely project than turning myself into a ws top.

Lookin' for Love in All the Wrong Places

Howdy, readers. We begin today with a craigslist ad. Not, as I usually give you, a missed connections ad; rather, it's your standard personal/hook-up cl listing:

Gaithersburg Top looking for a bottom... - 36 (Gaithersburg)
Reply to: pers-vxtsj-1067503654@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-03-09, 4:26PM EDT

just like the attached pic! I don't want a flat or a wide ass. I want one just like the pic for a LTR. Must be able to host & discreet. Looking for someone local to the Germantown to Rockville area. Not interested in looking beyond those points (unless your bottom is better looking than the one in this ad).

MUST BE STD/D&D Free (HIV NEG).

Send pic of your bottom to verify/confirm that you are exactly what I'm looking for.


Race nor age are an issue.

* Location: Gaithersburg

Now, y'all know that I believe in knowing and stating clearly what you want, but I also believe that asking for what you want has to be balanced by something I call not-being-an-unrealistic-asshat/douchenozzle. (That's all one word in German, but I can never figure out how to type the accents.) Seriously, I'd have little negative to say about this ad if the guy hadn't thrown in "for a LTR." If you're all about the ass (a condition that I have much sympathy for and that I would likely share if there weren't so many other parts that I'm also all about), then it's perfectly reasonable to ask for that sort of ass to play with, but you're going to select or not select someone as a life partner strictly based on his ass? Really? Wouldn't you at least want to know that they shared your taste in music and came down on the same side of the cats v. dogs question? Let's think about who's going to answer this ad: somebody who wants to be judged entirely by his backside. Perhaps someone that shallow is the perfect match for the guy who posted this ad, but perhaps (we can hope) someone that stupid just doesn't exist. On the other hand, if such a person did exist, we can speculate that perhaps God (if he, too, did exist) would have given him an ass like that, as compensation for the utter lack of brains.


Also, if you're looking for someone for an LTR, why does he have to be able to host, and why does he have to be within about a five-mile radius? Geography is sometimes destiny, but if you're looking for someone who has a very particularly perfect ass and who's dumb enough to be charmed by a married/partnered guy who claims to want an LTR, you should be willing to go a few more exits up or down I-270. And spring for a hotel room.

Oh, and finally, does anyone believe "Race nor age are an issue"? Execrable grammar aside, it's pretty clear that he really means, "Neither race nor age is an issue, as long as you're younger." You could argue that this guy would go as high as 40, but then I'd have to remind you that he's probably at least 42.


And now for something completely different.

Just before I left the office last night (i.e., at about 9), I hopped on gay.com briefly, and my buddy Andy, whom I have not seen in quite a while, said hello to me. Andy is a sweet, and sexy, man, but he's even worse about keeping in touch with semi-close friends than I am, and it's unusual for him to start a conversation. I asked how he was doing and whether he was still dating that guy I saw him with at last year's film festival, and he told me that that guy was "wacky" and that he was better off without him. So we chatted a bit more, and I said that it had been forever since I'd seen him, and he said that he knew and that he missed me (odd), so I asked him whether he was free last night. He said he wasn't, but it turns out we're both free on Friday night, so we agreed to get together. And then we had the following conversation:

Andy: Do you want to meet for dinner or do you just want to fuck me?
TED: Or? I was really hoping for both.
Andy: LOL. Ok.
TED: How about if I stop by with some wine? Then we can fuck and then go out to dinner. I always fuck better on a full stomach.
Andy: Ok.
TED: Besides, that way I can eat more, because I'll have just exercised.
Andy: Indeed.
TED: You know I think you're very sexy, but you know that I like you as a friend, too, right? I do enjoy spending time with you, even when we're not horizontal.
Andy: I know. I think you are the kindest man I've ever met.
TED: Oh, dude. You really need to meet more men.

Friday Fourgy

B&c was leaving on a jet plane Friday evening. I had to work Saturday, and then there was a church potluck Saturday evening, and YFU was with me for the balance of the weekend, so I knew that Friday was my only chance to play. So I posted on craigslist for submissive bottoms, and the response was pretty healthy. For whatever reasons (location is a big part, I'm sure), that particular ad typically draws a lot of married guys, and that means that you really have to book twice as many guys as you want to have, but that still left me with two bottoms, so I texted Judd, "Are you working tonight? I need another top, or at least someone who can act like a top." Judd's always telling me that he's versatile. He said that he had a fish fry, but that he could get to my place by ten.


And, oh my god, after that it got so complicated that when there were, eventually, four of us on the bed, I wasn't really sure who two of them were. I mean, they're married guys, so I never know who they are, anyway, but I usually can associate them with an email stream, and I was pretty sure that one of them was the married sub who'd said he'd arrive at 9 but showed up after 10, but the one who'd showed up at around 9:45, well, I just didn't know. As it happened, he was the guy who'd confirmed for 9 and then had called me back to say that he'd be late because "we have some people coming for drinks, and I hope they'll leave, and I should be there around ten or ten-thir..." which was when I flipped the phone shut because, dude, even if you're married, you don't get to call me up, get my address, and then find out that you've got entertaining to do that evening. So I wasn't expecting him to show up, but it was a good thing that he did, if only because even numbers are usually better.


The guy who wanted to show up just before 9 so that he could be tied to the bed before everyone else arrived emailed me later to cancel, saying that he'd just gotten a call from his brother because his mother had been admitted to the hospital with chest pains, and he was really sorry, but he had to go, and that's a reasonable excuse, but do you have any idea how many times I've heard some version of a family-emergency-involving-a-hospitalization excuse? I guess maybe it was true because he emailed me three times later that night to apologize and to say that he'd do anything to make it up to me, and then he called me the next morning, when I was at work, to plead for another chance, but, well, what the fuck? I told him I was working and would have to get back to him. Really, is it that hard to find someone to tie you to the bed and fuck you from both ends? I guess maybe it is.


But it doesn't help your case any if you're a guy that I've hooked up with once before and who then kept me waiting for over ninety minutes the next time we were going to get together -- after I'd told you that I only had two hours to begin with. I had to tell that guy -- and did I mention that I'm talking about an entirely different guy from the last paragraph -- not to come over that time, and he'd been emailing me off and on ever since. And since I was having a group on Friday, I figured it was safe to tell him to come over. After I'd said he could come over, he said that he would have to move some things around (again, WTF?), but then he confirmed for 9, and he never showed. That pretty much guarantees another volley of emails about how much he really wants me to dominate him, and I can tell before they arrive that he'll find some way to blame his not showing up on me. Usually it's that I don't give him enough notice and arrange my orgies around his schedule. The dude is seriously unclear on the concept of submission. And craigslist hook-ups.


And then there was the uber-hot young'un who had previously been tied to my bed while multiple guys fucked his face and who had begged for the same treatment again on Friday night. I had to turn him down flat because the bed was already overbooked. He asked several times, and he does have an exceptionally hot body, and he really is clear on the concept of submission, but he doesn't kiss, so I just couldn't see my way to giving him that much real estate and making everyone else fuck around him.


There were a couple of other guys who seemed promising but who then flaked, and, what with lateness and lameness, Judd, who had apparently accelerated his fish fry, was actually the first to arrive. For a while, I was thinking that no one else would show up, but that it would still be okay because what Judd really wants is for me to fuck him, but after we'd made out for a while, and Judd was busy sucking my cock, I finally heard a "hello?" from downstairs, and, dude, what part of "I'm leaving the door unlocked so just come in and come upstairs and join us" do you not understand? And, truly, it's not any trouble for me to call down, "C'mon up!" but the next guy didn't even open the door, he just kept ringing the doorbell until I had to pull my cock out of somebody's (I'm not sure whose) mouth and go downstairs to let the guy in.

And other than that, it was pretty much your standard fourgy. I ended up fucking all three of the other guys, Judd fucked the other two guys and got fucked by one of them, and the older of the married subs actually got the younger to fuck him as well. They were all good kissers, and they all responded well to nipple work. The older guy (early fifties?) wasn't all that flexible, so I couldn't bend him double, but I fucked him in a couple of positions, and I worked his nipples really hard, and at one point early on in the process, he turned to Judd and said, "Wow, he's really passionate, isn't he?" leaving me to think, for the bazillionth time, "Why bother having sex if you're not going to be passionate about it?" When the older guy was leaving, around 11 or so, he told me, "This was more fun than I expected," making me wonder why exactly he showed up if he hadn't expected it to be very much fun, but I reckon that cock is a sort of addiction for him and that getting his fix doesn't normally bring him much joy, and, well, how sad is that? But at least he wasn't sad Friday night.

At some point, I was lying on my back, and younger sub was sitting on my cock, with Judd sitting on his cock, and we had a bouncy, bouncy sandwich going on. Notionally, that's pretty cool, but I told Judd to get off, "so that I can fuck him the way I fuck you," and then I bent younger sub into a pretzel and began to pound his prostate, and at first it was a bit overwhelming to him, but before long he was yelling, "FUCK ME," and I was pounding him about as hard as I pound Judd.


When the subs were gone, Judd and I cuddled and smoked a bowl and made out for a while longer, and that was really nice. Part of me, though, couldn't help wishing that b&c and I could have group sex like that. It'd be hot to have a couple of guys over, play with them for a long session, and then relax together after they were gone. Maybe some day.

Edge Fail

B&c is off to Jordan this evening. And you know what that means, don't you? You thought that was a rhetorical question, I bet, but it's actually the lead in to a multiple choice pop quiz! So here we go. That means

a) B&c will spend the next twenty or so evenings on his back while a veritable parade of hot, young Jordanian men penetrate him,
b) I will spend most of the next twenty or so evenings working really late because it's tax season and feeling very jealous about a),
c) I will spend what little spare time I have during the next three weeks planning and executing a series of one-on-one hookups, threesomes, and small orgies,
d) There was no way I was letting b&c out of the bed this morning without a farewell fuck, or
e) All of the above.

Hey, I didn't say it was going to be a difficult pop quiz. But if it was on Facebook, there'd be a caption saying "sixty-seven percent of Americans got this question wrong," which brings us to multiple choice question #2. Which of the following statements is correct?

a) Most Americans are stupid.
b) Facebook is stupid.
c) Facebook thinks most Americans are stupid.
d) Most Americans think Facebook is stupid.
e) All of the above.
f) a, b, and c, but -- incredible and inexplicable and oh so wrong though it may be -- not d.

Anyway, I woke up this morning with the sort of wood that would scare JohnPaul Bunyan. My schedule's been brutal this week, and it had been days (days!) since I'd fucked b&c, and I really didn't have time for it this morning, but I figured that getting to work by 8 wasn't as important as giving b&c an appropriate send off. Also: emptying my balls, but of course, that was just a secondary consideration because, hey, I'm a giver. So I reached a groggy hand (my cock was wide awake and ready to rumble; the rest of me: not so much) over to his side of the bed and pulled him my way. I was idly stroking the top of his head, and he began playing with my head, but the other one, you know? I (the rest of me, that is) was slowly waking up as I moved on to squeezing his nipples, and he started playing with both of our cocks at the same time, though not with the same hand.

So the thing I don't really understand about morning sex is why my own bad breath doesn't cancel out anyone else's. But it doesn't, and that means that the making out portion of the session is always delayed. Morning wood always beats morning breath, but it's rarely a quick, and never an easy, victory. Anyway, at some point the horniness spread from my cock to engulf my entire body, and then I rolled over and started kissing him like a crazed weasel. (I want to make it VERY CLEAR that the crazed weasel simile refers to eagerness and not to technique. My osculatory technique is ALWAYS exemplary. I can provide references if need be.) And pretty soon after that, he was going for the lube.


B&c always likes to be fucked in more or less the same position (something about his hip). He's about three-quarters of the way onto his stomach with one leg pulled up, and then I straddle the other leg and slide in. It gives me a lot of control over my motion but it's extremely stimulative, so I don't have much control over my orgasm. With most other guys, I prefer to have them on their backs with their ankles near their ears so that I can get a shallower, prostate-pounding penetration. I like that because it tends to get the most intense reaction from the bottoms, but also because I can jackhammer away in that position more or less indefinitely. I'd have to guess that having a condom on when I fuck anyone else as opposed to being bare when I fuck b&c is also a contributing factor, but the end result is that I very often don't ejaculate when I fuck anyone else, but with b&c, it can take as little as two or three minutes to shoot. Or more than ten minutes, but I can never predict which way it's going to go.

This morning, for instance, I was about three minutes into the penetration phase, and I didn't feel like I was close to the edge, so I figured it was safe to go from moderato to vivace. But when I sped up, I felt myself very quickly getting closer, so I slowed down. I thought that, since it was our last time for a few weeks, it'd be a very good idea to draw the fuck out, and I figured I could just get close to the edge and then stay there for another six or seven minutes. But, you know, I find it hard enough to edge when it's my hand that's getting me off. When it's b&c's ass, I'd pretty much have to pull all the way out, and I really didn't want to. I got just a little bit past the five minute mark, and he was getting more agitated with his moaning (b&c is a notoriously quiet fuck), and, well, best laid plans and all that.

He didn't mind, though. B&c cares that certain elements (foreplay, penetration, post-coital cuddling) happen, but he doesn't really care how long they last. It's sort of like he's (not consciously: it's just the way he is) got a set of buttons that have to be pushed, and then he's all good. I would try to figure the whole thing out in a more thorough manner, but I've just learned that I'm never really going to understand bottoms at a gut level. Intellectually, I can figure out what they need, but they remain a mystery. An exceedingly pleasing mystery, but a mystery all the same.


Anyway, we cuddled for as long as I could manage without being too late to work, then I jumped in the shower, got dressed, and kissed him goodbye. I didn't bother telling him to have fun: he really doesn't need any encouragement in that area.

Bi

Not bisexual, readers: bifurcation.


I have found, over the past week, that I have been significantly -- and, frankly, surprisingly -- bothered by my new status as an adult blog that requires a warning and an additional click to read. It's a perfectly reasonable move on Blogger's part, but I feel that it puts me somewhere that I'm not entirely comfortable being.

Don't get me wrong. I still love writing about my sex life and about sexual issues, but there are a lot of other things that I want to write about. And there seems to be some sort of societal consensus that my writing about, say, favorite soup recipes, doesn't go well with pictures of hot men fucking. I, of course, think that pictures of hot men fucking make anything better, but what do I know?


Anyway, I don't have enough time, and perhaps I don't have enough material, but from now on, I'll be splitting what I have to say into two categories (sexually explicity content and everything else) and putting each category onto its own site. I don't expect most readers of The Neighbors Will Hear will want to read content that's not a) erotic, and b) accompanied by pictures of hot naked men, but for the few of you who might, you can go over to Dull Is the New Fabulous. The title is a somewhat tongue-in-cheek reference to life during and after the financial crisis.

For reasons that should be obvious, I'll avoid linking from there to here and, mostly, from here to there. I want to reiterate that I have no plans to stop posting here. Posts may be somewhat less frequent than usual over here for the next month or so, but a decrease in frequency (of sex, as well as posting) happens here every time around this year.

Chaste

Gay.com really just isn't what it used to be. Back in the day, I often found decent hook-ups there (and I did meet b&c there, and I'm grateful for that), but nowadays, there are better and more popular cruising sites. A lot of the guys who are on gay.com are there out of habit, and they have gay.com running in the background while they're more actively looking on manhunt, or whatever the kids are using these days. There are also, primarily in the rooms dedicated to particular urban areas, small groups of guys who've been hanging out in those rooms for a long time, and they engage in what they believe to be witty conversation. They are mistaken.

But it's about the only adult gay site that isn't blocked by my office's content filter, so sometimes, when I'm horny enough for my judgment to be impaired, I'll log on and see if anyone I know is on. That's how I usually hook up with Pecs and one or two other guys who I see occasionally but by no means regularly or often.


There's this guy in Rockville whom I've played with two or three times. He's an eager kisser and loves having his nipples played with, but he's not otherwise very accommodating, and he has such a bland personality that on at least four or five occasions over the last three years, I've started a conversation with him and chatted with him for ten or fifteen minutes before I remember who he is. And then I end up not hooking up with him because he always says he wants to play with me but he doesn't want to go down on me, even though he describes himself as an oral expert.


I used to think he was just being a jerk, but we chatted for a while yesterday (even after I remembered who he was, which again took ten minutes or so, because I really wasn't about to leave the office any time soon), and he said that he wasn't looking to play because his cock was too sore. I wasn't really interested in his cock, but I found sore cock an odd complaint. He did say that one of his regular guys (he has two regular married men) had played with him for three hours, but I can remember plenty of occasions where I've fucked guys for nearly or even more than three hours without developing a sore cock.

When I pressed him about the sore cock, he said that his married guy was annoyed at him for not being sufficiently submissive, so he'd come over and put him in a chastity device for three hours. Without lube. And during that time, his cock had gotten rubbed raw. Oh, ouch. But he hadn't complained to his friend because he didn't want to anger him by again not being sufficiently submissive.


I didn't react to what he'd said, mostly because I was working really hard at not judging, and he hastened to defend his married dom by saying that the guy really cared about him and that after he'd emailed the married dom to explain about his cock being raw, the guy had come over "with some healing lubes" to help him out. It all sounded a little bit too much like the guy who brings his wife flowers after he beats her, but I kept my opinion to myself, instead merely pointing out that it must be difficult to be in love with a married man. My bland acquaintance said that it was doubly difficult because he was in love with both of his married men. He'd been seeing one of them (the one who rubbed the skin off his cock) for over six years. And, as it happens, his version of being faithful to them is to not suck any other cocks. He says that they appreciate his sacrifice and his so-called fidelity.


I didn't continue the conversation for long after that. What's the point, really? I suppose I could point out to this guy that while he's spending his weekends, evenings, and early mornings waiting for his married guys to call, he could instead be developing a real romantic and/or social life, but my interaction with him suggests that he's not really equipped to have much of a romantic and/or social life beyond regular hook-ups with married guys. And who knows, maybe those married guys have some actual feelings of affection towards him. On the other hand, it's pretty clear that they also have lives and that their feelings towards him, whatever they might be, aren't anywhere near as strong as the feelings in the opposite direction. It's hard to imagine that this guy has very much self-respect, but maybe he never did, and having regular horizontal quality time with two men is the most he can expect. Especially since he already has a dog.

Anyway, the whole thing made me very much not want to get together with him again, even for making out and hard nipple work, which I normally love. It's very difficult to deal with guys whom I feel sorry for but don't really respect or even like. I just hope I can remember who he is so I don't start chatting with him again on gay.com.


In other TED-not-getting-laid news, Giancarlo, the extremely sexy Filipino who made me go on a pseudo-date with him before we had sex for two hours, and I have been in touch. We'd planned to get together for an overnight just before b&c got back from his last trip, but Giancarlo had had to cancel at the last minute due to a family obligation. Normally that sort of last-minute cancellation makes me excuse myself so that I can retrieve the eyes that have rolled clear out of my head, but in this case it was fairly obvious that he was telling the truth.

Anyway, after being snowed out Sunday night, he finally made it over to my place this evening. I left the office at the scandalously early time of 7:30 to meet him, but I wasn't meeting him alone. B&c is still in town and was home tonight, so do you see where this is headed? Not, alas, to a hot threesome. Instead, I prepared Giancarlo's taxes for him. And he's getting a very nice refund. His return is very simple, but more than he could handle, apparently. It was distracting to have him sitting next to me at the computer, our knees and sometimes our hands touching, while b&c was in the living room reading. Not to mention that there are other things I'd rather have been doing with and to him. But I got the job done. The tax job, that is.


I'd originally agreed to do his taxes after we'd hooked up and in conjunction with an overnight visit. But he's a good guy (and cute, which doesn't hurt), so I figured I should probably help him out even if I wasn't getting sex for it. I don't know whether that makes me a nice guy or a sap, but it helps, in my mind anyway, that he'd probably want to spend the night with me again even if I couldn't help him with his taxes. He likes good kissers, and, well, that's me.

Anyway, we spent a little while doing his taxes, mostly because I don't have the software here that I have at work, so I was entering data directly onto .pdf versions of the tax forms. My printer's very slow, so we made out some while the forms were printing out. Then I showed him where to sign, gave him addresses, kissed him some more, groped him a bit, got groped in return, and then said goodnight. There's something undeniably hot about grabbing a guy's cock through his jeans while you're kissing him when you know you can't finish what you're starting. Or at least we couldn't finish it then. B&c's off to Jordan at the end of the week, and even though I'll be working very late every night that YFU isn't over, I'm hopeful that I'll find a night to have him back over for another go round.

Mmm

Also known as: more mindful masturbation. By which I mean more blathering on about mindful masturbation rather than masturbation that is more mindful, though I guess that would work too, more or less. Less, really.

I think that too many people take wanking for granted. Which sort of makes sense when you call it "wanking" because "wanking" sounds like something you ought to take for granted, or even something you should be ashamed of. I would disapprove of using the word, but I love it (the word, that is, though I love the act itself, too, obviously) too much. Wanking.


I was rubbing one out last night, taking breaks from the action to exchange erotic text messages with the guy who was meant to keep me from wanking by playing with my cock. He'd messaged me on one of those hook-up sites, and he'd asked me to call him, and I had, and instead of calling me back, he'd texted me -- after 8pm -- that he was working in Rockville and would be getting off (ahem) in an hour. I was, as it happened, at a Staples in Rockville buying pens at the time, so I offered to stop by his place of employment and say hello. I knew, for a variety of reasons, that he wouldn't take me up on that offer, but I thought he might call me as soon as he was done work and that there might still be time for him to stop by the house and get fucked before b&c was due back from a concert in Baltimore. But then I didn't hear back from him for almost two hours, when I was lying on my bed, cock in hand, and he told me that there'd been an emergency at work. I have no idea what he does for a living, but his excuse didn't exactly ring true.


But I was playing with myself, and I was in a good mood, so rather than ignore him, I decided to tease him as best I could under the circumstances. Given his reactions, I'd have to say I did pretty well. He says he wants to try to get together again this weekend, and I really don't have time, but last night it was all about self-titillation.

A lot of people look at masturbation as something you do when you can't find so-called real sex. I think that masturbation is real sex. I might call it self-sex, as opposed to interactive sex (when another person is involved), but those terms are also imperfect. These days I have interactive sex more frequently than I jerk off, but that mostly tells you how precious little free time I have, though I suppose it also illustrates how little I like the quick wank. Masturbation is not an unfortunate necessity. It's not a cigarette for a nicotine addict.


If your interactive sex is anything like mine, the ejaculation is somewhere way down your list of priorities. Interactive sex is all about the give and take, the lips on lips, the lips on nips, the increasingly agitated moans of the man whose body you're playing like a fine instrument. I clearly have nothing against experiencing, or bringing another man to, a mind-bending orgasm, but I reckon that you out to have bent a guy's psyche well before he's approaching ejaculation. When your bed is your canvas and another man (and your own body) is your medium, your product is two (or more, I suppose) happy guys who are thinking over the entirety of the past hour or two when they say, "That was great!"

When you're jerking off, your work of art is a spectacular ejaculation.


That's not to say that everything leading up to the ejaculation isn't fun fun fun fun fun: the better time you have during the lead up, the more spectacular the ejaculation is likely to be. But wanking is about cumming. It's about cumming if you're the sort of guy who does it in two minutes in the shower, and it's about cumming if you spending an hour doing it while exchanging increasingly explicit text messages with some guy you know only from a few emails and a cock photo. Masturbation is the ultimate self-centered activity, and the center of a solo man is his cock.


I'm certainly not arguing that masturbation is superior to interactive sex. I'm not really saying that interactive sex is superior, either. From a physical standpoint, each has its pluses and minuses. Interactive sex, properly performed, stimulates more of the body, but in a more diffuse way. Masturbation, in my experience, has the advantage of more control which leads, in my experience (which, I recognize, is not universal) to more concentrated and intense orgasm. Interactive sex can be (and usually is, for me anyway) more spiritually satisfying because it's a shared activity, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't avail yourself of every opportunity for a fully awesome wank.


I'm aware that there's a potentially ridiculous aspect to all this ruminating about jerking off. But I'm entirely sincere about it, and if I'm contemplative about wanking, it's because wanking encourages contemplation. Next to a hot shower, there's nothing more conducive to unfocused meditation and thousand-mile journeys of the psyche than a really good wank. Now I, for better or worse, have the sort of mind that would walk five hundred miles pretty much at the drop of a hat, and I am given to inappropriate reflection even when I'm plowing an ass. But, really, you can't go there. I have tried to tell myself -- and I tried in particular to make this argument to myself one time when I was prone on the bed with a bottom bouncing up and down on my cock -- that when you're fucking one boy, thinking about the other boys that you've fucked is a way of celebrating the vast collective unconscious. But it's not: it's just an inability to live in the moment. When you're fucking another guy, you have a responsibility to fuck that guy. I don't believe in sexual exclusivity -- OBVIOUSLY -- but when you're fucking a guy, you have to have a moment of sexual exclusivity: you owe it to the bottom. Even if the bottom's dumber than soot. (I do not, truly, think that bottoms are any less intelligent than tops: it's just that I've come across [and cum in] a few who needed a few years of education to get to the level of soot.) You owe it to yourself, too. Sex is one of the few places where it should be easy to live in the moment.


When you're wanking, though, you are free -- nay, encouraged -- to think about every single ass you've plowed, every throat you've penetrated, every nipple you've bitten, every asshole or armpit you've spent a quarter-hour eating out, every pair of plump lips you've kissed. That's the real purpose of porn. It's not the porn that makes your load hit the wall behind your bed, it's the flood of memories that starts: the recollection of the sensation of all those real bodies that begins when you see those idealized bodies approach and touch each other on the screen. Interactive sex should be all over the body with a focused mind. Masturbation is the opportunity to let your mind roam the cosmos while your pleasure centers firmly in your cock.

Think about all that, and then maybe give yourself an extra half hour the next time you want to crank one out.