I have moved past this blog and my fears - with its help. Writing all this helped me sort out my feelings and explore fantasies in a free and anonymous environment. It served me well, but the time has come to move on.
Patrick and I broke up soon after I became disinterested in sex. I found myself thinking of nothing but women when he and I were having sex, I lost interest in gay porn and surfing the net for thick, juicy cocks. It's as if being with him brought me a greater clarity about my sexuality. But in a way that I did not expect. I don't know what I'd been afraid of all these years. Gay sex is really no big deal, it's just a matter of whether that gets you off or not. And everyone has a right to get off.
I used to be homophobic, until I realized that I was afraid of my own gay side. Once I got the courage to explore that side of me, I found out that it wasn't something to be afraid of.
To anyone who might just now be wondering if they're gay, please don't hesitate to get out there and get laid - find out NOW because life is too short to keep yourself from being happy. Just go for it.
-Benny
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Takin' a Break
Been at this blog for six months to the day. I've come a long way to figuring this all out, much in part thanks to this blog. And now I need a break. Don't know when I'll be back, as writing has been hard for me lately. Though I'm still confused and searching, I'm having trouble putting my feelings to words. Don't know if this is "goodbye" but definitely a "later" while I sort out my apathy toward my little blog here.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Possible Three Way Raises Questions
I've never had a group sex experience, but it's something I've always been open to. Of course I have fantasized about the two girl one guy thing like every other straight man in the world, and for a long time - even before I realized I was bi - I dreamt about double teaming a chick or watching a guy fuck his woman. Although it's something I've always wanted to do, I've never had the opportunity. Now that I know I'm at least partially bisexual, I can add an all-male group sex experience to the lifetime sexual wish list.
Patrick thinks that one of his lovers would be a good match for us in a three way. The guy is a closeted bisexual and they've been having sex together for seven years. Patrick says they have hot passionate sex, and that I'd have to get up to speed to be able to fit in with them. Not that we don't have hot sex, just that they have had so much time to establish their connection. Patrick says he doesn't think I'm comfortable enough yet with gay sex to get the best out of a three way. He doesn't think we've developed our sexual vibe enough yet.
In some ways I see his point, especially since he's right that I'm still exploring my comfort zone with it all. And to be honest, since I posted about it earlier, our sex life has continued to dwindle. The other night when I went over we barely even kissed. No hot sex like the first three nights, though he said it didn't bother him.
But then in other ways I don't really see his point, because it sort of ties a carrot out in front of me. I kind of resent him bringing up a threeway, but then saying I've got work to do. I can't help but see it as a manipulative move to get me to suck his cock more, or let him play more with my ass, or even fuck it.
I don't often respond well to behavior that seems manipulative. And it might end up encouraging my pullback in sexual interest with him. Which would be a drag because I'd really like to have a threeway!
Patrick thinks that one of his lovers would be a good match for us in a three way. The guy is a closeted bisexual and they've been having sex together for seven years. Patrick says they have hot passionate sex, and that I'd have to get up to speed to be able to fit in with them. Not that we don't have hot sex, just that they have had so much time to establish their connection. Patrick says he doesn't think I'm comfortable enough yet with gay sex to get the best out of a three way. He doesn't think we've developed our sexual vibe enough yet.
In some ways I see his point, especially since he's right that I'm still exploring my comfort zone with it all. And to be honest, since I posted about it earlier, our sex life has continued to dwindle. The other night when I went over we barely even kissed. No hot sex like the first three nights, though he said it didn't bother him.
But then in other ways I don't really see his point, because it sort of ties a carrot out in front of me. I kind of resent him bringing up a threeway, but then saying I've got work to do. I can't help but see it as a manipulative move to get me to suck his cock more, or let him play more with my ass, or even fuck it.
I don't often respond well to behavior that seems manipulative. And it might end up encouraging my pullback in sexual interest with him. Which would be a drag because I'd really like to have a threeway!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Give Me a Bisexual Boyfriend
Wouldn't it be great to have a bisexual boyfriend? I'd want him to be totally fit and hot, charming, funny, and he must love to suck cock. Have him be totally smooth with the ladies, great at convincing hot chicks to come home with us to screw. Maybe we could take one of our girlfriends up into the mountains to a remote campsite and fuck her right out in the open under the sky.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
My New Blog
FYI: I just started a new blog yesterday, Cock-A-Day. It's pretty boring right now, 'cause there's only one or two pics on there, but I intend to post a new random cockshot every day for... well we'll see how long it will last. I have a huge collection of digital photos, hundreds of cockshots, so I'll try to keep the content fresh and not repeat any pics from this blog. Hope you enjoy it, if not, enjoy something.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Straight Porn After Gay Sex
Sunday night I masturbated to straight porn after I got home from Patrick's. While I was over there I couldn’t cum again, even though he was doing things to me that felt so good and had helped me get off before. I left kind of frustrated thinking that I was going to have to practically jerk the skin off my dick to get off that night.
So when I came home I fired up the DVD unenthusiastically, one of the "Bang That Teen Pussy" series, just an intro part of a model playing with herself before she gets fucked. She had small tits, a nice trimmed blond pussy, beautifully toned petite body, and she wasn't too pretty, so she had that perfect girl next door kind of look.
Watching her little fit body as she bashfully played with her pussy got me so hot that I came so hard it landed on my face. I can't remember the last time I launched a cumload onto my face, if I ever have at all.
It's great having a boyfriend, but it's pretty clear I gotta get some pussy! I also need to sleep with some other men and see if this dilemma is just about Patrick, or having sex with men in general.
So when I came home I fired up the DVD unenthusiastically, one of the "Bang That Teen Pussy" series, just an intro part of a model playing with herself before she gets fucked. She had small tits, a nice trimmed blond pussy, beautifully toned petite body, and she wasn't too pretty, so she had that perfect girl next door kind of look.
Watching her little fit body as she bashfully played with her pussy got me so hot that I came so hard it landed on my face. I can't remember the last time I launched a cumload onto my face, if I ever have at all.
It's great having a boyfriend, but it's pretty clear I gotta get some pussy! I also need to sleep with some other men and see if this dilemma is just about Patrick, or having sex with men in general.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Confused Over Confusion
I spent practically the whole weekend with Patrick. He had me over for dinner and drinks on Saturday night, we stayed up until 4am. I might as well have stayed the night, because I ended up watching the NFL playoffs with him all day Sunday anyway. We had a really great time. We had sex a couple times too, and in different ways than before. It was actually pretty nice.
Previously I posted that I was feeling kind of bored with the sex, and I brought it up to him on Saturday. I told him that I just don't feel that inspired by sucking cock, and that I was confused about why it takes so much effort for me to cum because a lot of what we do together is really pretty hot. I told him that most of the time we were together I was thinking about women.
I expected him to be crushed, but instead he said something that could not have been more perfect, "well I think that's because you are a true bisexual." He is so patient and understanding it blows me away. And the time we spend together is so affectionate, just cuddling, talking and laughing. It's all romance and passion and sensuality. In a lot of ways, all of that is better than the sex.
I'm kind of tripping out about not feeling all that into sucking his cock. It's not like it's exceptionally big or obnoxious, it's clean and well groomed. I dunno why but it's like it simultaneously turns me on and off. It gets me hard to have him in my mouth, but then I almost immediately lose interest in doing anything with it. Poor guy, it must be driving him nuts. lol
Previously I posted that I was feeling kind of bored with the sex, and I brought it up to him on Saturday. I told him that I just don't feel that inspired by sucking cock, and that I was confused about why it takes so much effort for me to cum because a lot of what we do together is really pretty hot. I told him that most of the time we were together I was thinking about women.
I expected him to be crushed, but instead he said something that could not have been more perfect, "well I think that's because you are a true bisexual." He is so patient and understanding it blows me away. And the time we spend together is so affectionate, just cuddling, talking and laughing. It's all romance and passion and sensuality. In a lot of ways, all of that is better than the sex.
I'm kind of tripping out about not feeling all that into sucking his cock. It's not like it's exceptionally big or obnoxious, it's clean and well groomed. I dunno why but it's like it simultaneously turns me on and off. It gets me hard to have him in my mouth, but then I almost immediately lose interest in doing anything with it. Poor guy, it must be driving him nuts. lol
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Patrick Hates My Crossdressing
I guess he's is not into queens. They turn him off the same way women do. So it stands to reason that he's not so into my crossdressing stuff. He's not into the skirts or dresses, heels or hose. The idea of me wearing my lacy top around his house just turns him off, he says. In a way it's kind of weird because I just want to feel natural around him, and a lot of times I just want to be nude or wear women's clothes because, well, that's what feels natural. It's only about comfort, so I find it pretty interesting that he doesn't want me to wear my girlie shit around him.
Maybe it makes him uncomfortable, I don't know. Maybe he's so gay that anything feminine turns him off on a fundamental level. When I asked him about it, he said that he was attracted to men, not women. He told me about another closeted bisexual lover who also likes that stuff, but that as for himself the women's shit just doesn't do it for him. [Note to self: gotta meet this other guy he's talking about!]
What's really interesting about it for me is the way it illustrates different people's arousal triggers. For him the arousal comes from the sexuality of masculinity. Whereas I think for me the arousal comes, perhaps, from the fantasy of being a woman. The clothes give me the experience of what women get to wear, while I get to role-play their gender and fantasize about having a straight women's sexuality. And get fucked by some handsome and manly guy.
This dynamic that I have with Patrick is really bringing up some deep introspection. What is the basis of my attraction to men? Is it physical or fantasy? A combination of both? Or do I simply have a fascination with being perverted - that I need to continually up the ante to get off? Is this gay experience authentic or is it just my attempts to raise my sexual bet: "I'll call your crossdressing, and raise with a blowjob and fuck in the ass."
I understand how men dressing up in women's clothes could turn off a gay guy. The same way I understood when one of my past girlfriends couldn't stop laughing any time I wore women's clothes. She just thought it was funny, not sexy. I have had girlfriends and lovers who thought it was really hot, though most of the time I've kept very private about my panty thievery, cock ring hobby, heel fetish, and other unmentionables.
Maybe it makes him uncomfortable, I don't know. Maybe he's so gay that anything feminine turns him off on a fundamental level. When I asked him about it, he said that he was attracted to men, not women. He told me about another closeted bisexual lover who also likes that stuff, but that as for himself the women's shit just doesn't do it for him. [Note to self: gotta meet this other guy he's talking about!]
What's really interesting about it for me is the way it illustrates different people's arousal triggers. For him the arousal comes from the sexuality of masculinity. Whereas I think for me the arousal comes, perhaps, from the fantasy of being a woman. The clothes give me the experience of what women get to wear, while I get to role-play their gender and fantasize about having a straight women's sexuality. And get fucked by some handsome and manly guy.
This dynamic that I have with Patrick is really bringing up some deep introspection. What is the basis of my attraction to men? Is it physical or fantasy? A combination of both? Or do I simply have a fascination with being perverted - that I need to continually up the ante to get off? Is this gay experience authentic or is it just my attempts to raise my sexual bet: "I'll call your crossdressing, and raise with a blowjob and fuck in the ass."
I understand how men dressing up in women's clothes could turn off a gay guy. The same way I understood when one of my past girlfriends couldn't stop laughing any time I wore women's clothes. She just thought it was funny, not sexy. I have had girlfriends and lovers who thought it was really hot, though most of the time I've kept very private about my panty thievery, cock ring hobby, heel fetish, and other unmentionables.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Our Third Night
The other night last week with Patrick was only our third night together, but it felt so natural that it could have been our thirteenth or thirtieth night. We have a connection that just makes it so easy to hang out. I don’t feel the need to pretend to be someone else or to fake it in any way. It just is what it is, and we are who we are. What could be more simple and good?
He made me another amazing dinner, lasagna and a killer tossed salad. After dinner I confessed to him that I wasn’t feeling very sexy or sexual that night (or so I thought). I talked to him about the scruffy face issue, that I wasn’t so into it, so he leaned over to brush his face against my lips, “what about now?” he asked. He had done an exquisite job shaving, and I was surprised to find his face really quite soft and smooth.
“Much better,” I sighed with a smile, giving in to a passionate kiss. Wasn’t I going to try to keep my hands off of him? Shit. Well, maybe it’s true, “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
I told him about how I didn’t know why, but I liked playing with his cock better when it’s soft, that I’m intimidated by it somehow when it’s hard. That it’s more of a Funky Elephant crush for me at the moment. I don’t know how, but he seemed to understand. If a woman had ever told me that my cock intimidated her, the sexual beast in me would stroll up to the podium in my head and declare, “Fuck. Her. Now.” Because I know what it’s like to be a man, I immediately recognized and respected his ability to show a little restraint.
We talked for about an hour, about all kinds of stuff, whatever came to mind. Of course the conversation steered towards sex, because that seems to always come to mind. And then all of a sudden, Patrick was sucking my cock. Gentle, gentle, gentle, not so rough. I don’t want to be consumed tonight, merely teased. Keep the Electrolux unplugged for now, I’m content to fuck only the off switch tonight.
I just wanted to dabble anytime he was soft, but mostly I kept him out of my mouth for the night. We made out and played around with each others cocks on and off for hours like the other nights. Edging he calls it. Just playing a bit, backing off, playing a bit, backing off. I didn’t know it had a name, I had done it sometimes masturbating when I had the time to jerk off all day, or when I wanted to dump a really huge cumload.
The sex that night was different, detached, more play than passion. Somehow Patrick seemed to be satisfied just worshiping my body, jerking off onto me while I laid back on couch. I’m impressed that he doesn’t seem to have the need to penetrate to get off. As if I’m living pornography for him to speckle with cum splotches. The voyeur/exhibitionist aspect of it is kinda kinky, a real turn on for me.
This time when he jerked off over me, his cumload was the most I’d ever seen him do. I used his cum to lubricate my cock and masturbate. I tried to cum, but I couldn’t. Sigh.
Since I was a total mess, I went to the shower to clean off, and there I kind of started to trip out. “Is my man-crush over? Why can’t I cum? Why do I keep wishing he had a cunt? Why can’t I cum? Is this the bisexual dilemma? What the fuck? Why can’t I cum?”
I fixed something on his computer for him, got his msn email to sound a new email alert – which is very easy to do, I am not bragging about computer skills here ;) - and of course being impressed with my familiarity around the OS, Patrick quickly had his hands all over my body. When he’s touching me, our affections have few limits. So naturally, soon we were both naked again, and he was straddled over me, our balls touching, our dicks entwined as we made out.
He slid down my body and gently took my balls into his mouth, which had always had hurt before, but tonight it felt divine. He carefully sucked my tender balls while I jerked off and came closer and closer to climax. Then he stood up, leaned into me and I pumped our cocks side by side with my knuckles together and finally came, spurting out onto our chests. Patrick collapsed on me, both of us breathing heavily. It was another night to remember.
He made me another amazing dinner, lasagna and a killer tossed salad. After dinner I confessed to him that I wasn’t feeling very sexy or sexual that night (or so I thought). I talked to him about the scruffy face issue, that I wasn’t so into it, so he leaned over to brush his face against my lips, “what about now?” he asked. He had done an exquisite job shaving, and I was surprised to find his face really quite soft and smooth.
“Much better,” I sighed with a smile, giving in to a passionate kiss. Wasn’t I going to try to keep my hands off of him? Shit. Well, maybe it’s true, “the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
I told him about how I didn’t know why, but I liked playing with his cock better when it’s soft, that I’m intimidated by it somehow when it’s hard. That it’s more of a Funky Elephant crush for me at the moment. I don’t know how, but he seemed to understand. If a woman had ever told me that my cock intimidated her, the sexual beast in me would stroll up to the podium in my head and declare, “Fuck. Her. Now.” Because I know what it’s like to be a man, I immediately recognized and respected his ability to show a little restraint.
We talked for about an hour, about all kinds of stuff, whatever came to mind. Of course the conversation steered towards sex, because that seems to always come to mind. And then all of a sudden, Patrick was sucking my cock. Gentle, gentle, gentle, not so rough. I don’t want to be consumed tonight, merely teased. Keep the Electrolux unplugged for now, I’m content to fuck only the off switch tonight.
I just wanted to dabble anytime he was soft, but mostly I kept him out of my mouth for the night. We made out and played around with each others cocks on and off for hours like the other nights. Edging he calls it. Just playing a bit, backing off, playing a bit, backing off. I didn’t know it had a name, I had done it sometimes masturbating when I had the time to jerk off all day, or when I wanted to dump a really huge cumload.
The sex that night was different, detached, more play than passion. Somehow Patrick seemed to be satisfied just worshiping my body, jerking off onto me while I laid back on couch. I’m impressed that he doesn’t seem to have the need to penetrate to get off. As if I’m living pornography for him to speckle with cum splotches. The voyeur/exhibitionist aspect of it is kinda kinky, a real turn on for me.
This time when he jerked off over me, his cumload was the most I’d ever seen him do. I used his cum to lubricate my cock and masturbate. I tried to cum, but I couldn’t. Sigh.
Since I was a total mess, I went to the shower to clean off, and there I kind of started to trip out. “Is my man-crush over? Why can’t I cum? Why do I keep wishing he had a cunt? Why can’t I cum? Is this the bisexual dilemma? What the fuck? Why can’t I cum?”
I fixed something on his computer for him, got his msn email to sound a new email alert – which is very easy to do, I am not bragging about computer skills here ;) - and of course being impressed with my familiarity around the OS, Patrick quickly had his hands all over my body. When he’s touching me, our affections have few limits. So naturally, soon we were both naked again, and he was straddled over me, our balls touching, our dicks entwined as we made out.
He slid down my body and gently took my balls into his mouth, which had always had hurt before, but tonight it felt divine. He carefully sucked my tender balls while I jerked off and came closer and closer to climax. Then he stood up, leaned into me and I pumped our cocks side by side with my knuckles together and finally came, spurting out onto our chests. Patrick collapsed on me, both of us breathing heavily. It was another night to remember.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Corner of Confusion and Let Down Alley
My craigslist ad has gotten more responses than I thought it would, though no response has led to anything close as to what I have with Patrick. It's been a real eye opener to experience first hand the differences between the straight and gay worlds.
One of my respondents is a pretty attractive lady in her early 50's. We've been trading emails for almost two weeks now, and she invited me over to dinner last night at her house. There was obviously chemistry when I got there, but clearly far more baggage involved than with Patrick. She told me about her son (son? not mentioned before) and her current divorce (divorce? that's a new one) and how she's not sure if she'll even be in this town three months down the road (three months? okay then). Then of course came out the ultimate straight-dating buzz kill: she's just looking for friends.
Just friends? Jeezus. What the fuck's up with answering a "men seeking women" personal ad then? I know what's up with it, maybe I just had forgotten how contrived heterosexual dating can be. All the games. All the shades of truth. All the saying "yes" when they really mean "no" - I still want pussy but not all the bullshit. Am I asking too much?
One of my respondents is a pretty attractive lady in her early 50's. We've been trading emails for almost two weeks now, and she invited me over to dinner last night at her house. There was obviously chemistry when I got there, but clearly far more baggage involved than with Patrick. She told me about her son (son? not mentioned before) and her current divorce (divorce? that's a new one) and how she's not sure if she'll even be in this town three months down the road (three months? okay then). Then of course came out the ultimate straight-dating buzz kill: she's just looking for friends.
Just friends? Jeezus. What the fuck's up with answering a "men seeking women" personal ad then? I know what's up with it, maybe I just had forgotten how contrived heterosexual dating can be. All the games. All the shades of truth. All the saying "yes" when they really mean "no" - I still want pussy but not all the bullshit. Am I asking too much?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Patrick Tells The Truth
Patrick has confessed something to me, and I'm surprised it doesn't bother me more.
When he responded to my craigslist ad, he said he was a young 49. When I got to his place the first night, I thought he didn't look so young for 49, but he still grew on me as the night went on. It was like our connection transcended age. It was more our spirits that connected. So what if he's ten years older?
Well, since we have such a strong connection, he decided to tell me his real age. According to him he has never told any lover his real age before. It honestly seems kind of foreign to me to live life that way, because I hate to try to keep track of all the lies out there, who I told what and trying to keep it all straight - what a waste of energy! I figured this out when I was a teen still living with my parents. All my other friends were trying to come up with elaborate schemes to get away with this or that or go to a drinking party or use their fake ID's to get into a strip club, etc. Because of my honesty I even got them in trouble sometimes, not being able to keep it together as to what the story was when this person or that person happens to be within earshot. Deception takes a lot out of me, and I generally avoid it at all costs.
So believe it or not, dear reader, my Patrick is 64 years old! My God! He's my friggin' parent's age! Regardless, I forgive him because if he had said he was that old from the start, I doubt I would have ever agreed to meet him. And besides, most all of the 25-year-old chicks that I'm interested in think 39 is over the hill. They would have no idea that I get carded for looking so young if I met them online, so I too have felt the urge to augment my youth when flirting online in chat rooms or whatever. It's so stupid that people place such high importance on just a number. They set limits and judgments in their mind about how people of a certain age act, and all it does is limit what experiences, friends and lovers they could have in their lives.
What really blows me away is that Patrick's only a couple years younger than my parents, but I still lust after him. I still dream about his cock. It's kind of weird because there's also this element of taboo there, like I'm fucking my grandpa. Gross huh? But he's not like any other sixty-plus year-old that I have ever met. He has opened my eyes in so many ways, that dirty old man! Lucky bastard gets a young, visceral, sex-crazed boyfriend out of the deal. Can I please be that lucky when I'm 64?
When he responded to my craigslist ad, he said he was a young 49. When I got to his place the first night, I thought he didn't look so young for 49, but he still grew on me as the night went on. It was like our connection transcended age. It was more our spirits that connected. So what if he's ten years older?
Well, since we have such a strong connection, he decided to tell me his real age. According to him he has never told any lover his real age before. It honestly seems kind of foreign to me to live life that way, because I hate to try to keep track of all the lies out there, who I told what and trying to keep it all straight - what a waste of energy! I figured this out when I was a teen still living with my parents. All my other friends were trying to come up with elaborate schemes to get away with this or that or go to a drinking party or use their fake ID's to get into a strip club, etc. Because of my honesty I even got them in trouble sometimes, not being able to keep it together as to what the story was when this person or that person happens to be within earshot. Deception takes a lot out of me, and I generally avoid it at all costs.
So believe it or not, dear reader, my Patrick is 64 years old! My God! He's my friggin' parent's age! Regardless, I forgive him because if he had said he was that old from the start, I doubt I would have ever agreed to meet him. And besides, most all of the 25-year-old chicks that I'm interested in think 39 is over the hill. They would have no idea that I get carded for looking so young if I met them online, so I too have felt the urge to augment my youth when flirting online in chat rooms or whatever. It's so stupid that people place such high importance on just a number. They set limits and judgments in their mind about how people of a certain age act, and all it does is limit what experiences, friends and lovers they could have in their lives.What really blows me away is that Patrick's only a couple years younger than my parents, but I still lust after him. I still dream about his cock. It's kind of weird because there's also this element of taboo there, like I'm fucking my grandpa. Gross huh? But he's not like any other sixty-plus year-old that I have ever met. He has opened my eyes in so many ways, that dirty old man! Lucky bastard gets a young, visceral, sex-crazed boyfriend out of the deal. Can I please be that lucky when I'm 64?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Somehow My Heart Flutters
I just finished playing phone tag with Patrick, and finally he won. I had forgotten that he went to the big city for a basketball game last night, and then we missed each other's calls this morning a few times. When we finally talked, he lured me over to his place with the promise of another amazing meal.
During the phone tag, it dawned on me how particular and faggoty his outgoing message is, and when I left my message he could tell I was laughing at him. Not in a bad way, but just that kind of delightful giggle that you get when someone you know just goes right for the punch line in terms of their personality. For a second, they intimate exactly what you love about them the most, and it just makes you laugh. The joy that wells up and just becomes a true heartfelt belly laugh.
I wasn't sure if he was upset, but he called me out for laughing at him, and asked to me explain why I was, indeed, cracking up when I left my message. So I read the subtext of his message to him. "Why bother calling if you can't leave a message, and don't fuck up when you do." And that it sounded like he gets a lot of hangup messages from friends that he can plain well see with the caller ID. Immediately he said, "exactly." Points scored for me, I guess.
When he asked me about dinner and what I wanted to eat, he said "besides my cock." And, I dunno, it kind of turned me off. Not sure why, maybe because food fetishes never ever worked for me - you know whipped cream on the nipples or whatever - or maybe because of wretched, unmentionable cannibalism imagery. Who knows, but I immediately thought that maybe I'm going to have to let him know that I like the advances, but it's getting to be a little too much for me right now.
So I'm going over to see him again tonight, and I don't exactly know how I feel about it. But talking to him definitely got my heart rate up.
During the phone tag, it dawned on me how particular and faggoty his outgoing message is, and when I left my message he could tell I was laughing at him. Not in a bad way, but just that kind of delightful giggle that you get when someone you know just goes right for the punch line in terms of their personality. For a second, they intimate exactly what you love about them the most, and it just makes you laugh. The joy that wells up and just becomes a true heartfelt belly laugh.
I wasn't sure if he was upset, but he called me out for laughing at him, and asked to me explain why I was, indeed, cracking up when I left my message. So I read the subtext of his message to him. "Why bother calling if you can't leave a message, and don't fuck up when you do." And that it sounded like he gets a lot of hangup messages from friends that he can plain well see with the caller ID. Immediately he said, "exactly." Points scored for me, I guess.
When he asked me about dinner and what I wanted to eat, he said "besides my cock." And, I dunno, it kind of turned me off. Not sure why, maybe because food fetishes never ever worked for me - you know whipped cream on the nipples or whatever - or maybe because of wretched, unmentionable cannibalism imagery. Who knows, but I immediately thought that maybe I'm going to have to let him know that I like the advances, but it's getting to be a little too much for me right now.
So I'm going over to see him again tonight, and I don't exactly know how I feel about it. But talking to him definitely got my heart rate up.
Our First Fight - Not Really
I finally confided in Patrick that I've been writing in my blog some pretty specific details about our love affair. "Like what, EVERYTHING?!" he cried, and I said, "pretty much, yeah."
He doesn't quite understand the blogging phenomenon, and I think maybe he thought I've got my real name and Social Security Number, street address and phone number published for all the world to see. He was convinced I was using his real name too, and was pretty well pissed off to think that I would betray his trust like that.
"[His real name], honey, I'm the one who's in the closet here, remember? Besides they all think your name is Patrick. And they don't even know what town we live in, let alone what state. There are a million anonymous bloggers out there. That's what makes it so cool, and such a release for me."
"Oh," he said, and a playful smile curled his lips, "Patrick? ... That was my first boyfriend's name." And with that we kissed and made up. Well, kissed and made out was more like it.
Without trust, there is no romance anywhere. Period.
He doesn't quite understand the blogging phenomenon, and I think maybe he thought I've got my real name and Social Security Number, street address and phone number published for all the world to see. He was convinced I was using his real name too, and was pretty well pissed off to think that I would betray his trust like that.
"[His real name], honey, I'm the one who's in the closet here, remember? Besides they all think your name is Patrick. And they don't even know what town we live in, let alone what state. There are a million anonymous bloggers out there. That's what makes it so cool, and such a release for me."
"Oh," he said, and a playful smile curled his lips, "Patrick? ... That was my first boyfriend's name." And with that we kissed and made up. Well, kissed and made out was more like it.
Without trust, there is no romance anywhere. Period.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Rough Wisker Side Effects
I'd never made out with a man before last week, and to be perfectly honest it really makes me miss kissing a woman. Facial hair kind of grosses me out (especially on a woman!) and the simple fact of the matter is that it's abrasive and it hurts. My lip feels like I've been making out with a friggin' sheet of sandpaper. My lover even said that he shaved before I came over the other night, but still his face was so scratchy that my soft lips got hurt in the process. How to meet a woman who sees the world like a guy (in other words, realistically), but without the scruffy face? I was afraid that this bisexual thing might become a dilemma... but hey, at least I'm getting laid.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Another Long and Beautiful Night
When I got to Patrick's last night, I felt much more relaxed and content to be going over to a gay man's house. I can tell he feels totally comfortable with me, because this time when I got to his door, it was left ajar, and knocking on it just swung it open. "Come in honey," I heard my sweet boyfriend say from inside.
He looked great. I guess since we met he has been able to sleep better, and this time he literally looked five years younger than before. I told him that he looked good as we embraced and pecked on the lips. "Bullshit," he said, but I'm sure that he appreciated the compliment. Who wouldn't?
While we hugged and held each other, I put my nose in the crook of his neck and just inhaled his scent like a drug. I always thought, from being in nasty, sweaty locker rooms, that a man would have this gnarly awful smell, too spunky and musky and strong to actually smell good, but not my Patrick. He smells like fresh banana bread muffins straight from the oven, a wonderfully appealing, intoxicating scent.
I took off my pants within the first two minutes of being there. I already had my pajamas on underneath, as I didn't want to waste any time getting comfortable again. I took out my own slippers and robe, and he poked fun at me, "oh God you are so queer to bring your own things." And I grabbed him playfully, pulling him into me while I poked fun back at him, "sweetie, you know how picky I am!"
Our mouths met in a hot, deep kiss. Any inhibitions from the other night about kissing him had flown out the window. He is a great kisser. Attentive, responsive, sensual and very passionate.
Within no time we were snuggling on the couch, nibbling on the hors devours that he had graciously placed on the coffee table for us. Almonds, cashews, turkey slices and crackers. He got me a beer from the fridge and packed a bowl for me to smoke. The man knows how to get me in the mood!
It wasn’t long before our hands were down each other’s pants. The chemistry between us is just so overpowering, when we are together the desire is almost too much to bear. If it weren’t for real life responsibility and the need for sleep, I would never want to leave his place, never want to stop pleasuring each other, never let go of his manly embrace.
“Let’s get naked and go roll around on my bed,” he suggested. “I’m not really in the mood to hot tub tonight.”
“Oh baby please, I really need a soak,” I pleaded, pretending to be sore; but for all my feigning discomfort, I think he knew that I was just trying to get him into that sexy little tub of his again, to relive our first time together, but this time to accept his advances with reckless abandon.
Once in the tub, no time was wasted sucking face with my gorgeous new boyfriend. I leaned into him, pushing him to the other side of the tub. Under the water I spread my legs and arched my back. He grabbed my ass with his muscular hands, tucked his middle finger between my cheeks, cupped my balls. I reached down to feel that his cock was fully hard and I playfully asked him, “how’d that happen?”
He said that making out always got him the hardest. Suddenly timid, I stopped kissing him and we went back to talking and playing touch games under the water. Soon his cock was soft again and I asked him, “what else gets you hard, I don’t know what to do.”
With that he got out of the water and sat on the edge of the tub. “Here,” he teased, “do you know what to do now?”
I gave him a wily smile and a playfully sinful look, floated across the water and immediately took his cock into my mouth. I sucked and swirled, pulled on his foreskin gently with my teeth, blew kisses and licked while his hardening cock bobbled in and out of my willing mouth. In a breath he was hard again and said, “there now little boy, I think you're getting the idea.” But he was getting cold, so he slid back down into the warm water.
A couple minutes later we went back into his house, and I lovingly dried him off with my towel. We went back into his room and grappled together naked on his bed. We touched and toyed with each other, we each put on cockrings and ended up in a sixty-nine. Sideways at first but then he had me lay on my back, and he straddled over my head and rammed my hard-on down his throat. His cock dangled right in my face and I took him into my mouth, into my throat, and he smothered me with his cock, his balls hanging over my nostrils so I couldn't breathe. The surrender to him felt so taboo, so wrong and so right, and I lifted his balls with my hands to take a deep breath, then let them tumble back onto my nose, back to being suffocated by his manhood. It felt so good.
Minutes later he was kneeled over me again and we had each other's hands between our legs, touching each other's assholes, massaging under our balls. We jerked ourselves off together, matching strokes, mano a mano, and soon he was dropping his loaded hot cum globs on my belly, and seeing him shudder with his orgasm sent me into oblivion too, and I came and came onto my belly, onto my chest and neck, flooding his cum with mine.
He collapsed on me and we just mushed the cum between our chests, squirming, mashing the moist and slippery cumfest between us, kissing deeply, moaning with delight.
Looking at the clock, I was surprised to see it wasn't even 11:30, so we went back into the living room again to snuggle and touch on the couch. He made us tea and started a fire, and we warmed each other there watching the flicker of flame together, just talking and joking and laughing again, both of us still bewildered with disbelief that we had even found each other. He recounted the impossibility of our meeting, pointing out that I had posted on craigslist in "men seeking women" and how preposterous it was for him to even be reading those ads in the first place. "Maybe you are a woman, Patrick," I teased, and he just cracked up laughing. "You are so fucking funny," he said, and we laughed with joy at the genius of it all.
Of course in no time my cock was up and ready again, and he said he just could not believe that my cock could last so long and cum so hard and yet still be ready to fuck again in a mere three minutes. "Yeah," I said, "you know my cock never got the message that I got older. He still thinks he's 18!"
Patrick laughed out loud and said that he thought that must be the funniest thing he ever heard. "Wait until I tell my girlfriends," he said. And I half-jokingly asked, "are they cute?" And without a moment's hesitation he said, "Fuck you, do you think I'd share you with them?!" A split second later he was sucking my cock again, and once again I was throbbing to complete fullness in his amazing mouth.
"Bring that beautiful cock over here, you fucking stud," I urged him, and he stood up and forced it into my mouth, into my throat, and he fucked my face while I jerked off. He put his finger slightly in my ass, quivered and shook, pulled out of my mouth and cum again onto my chest. Not one to be outdone, I quickly built up to another orgasm while he rubbed our cocks together, jerking us both off simultaneously, and before long I was cumming again and again, as if for the first time that night, the spurts leaping out of my tip and splashing on my chest, even up to my chin. "Jesus Christ!" he said, "you really are still a teenager!"
"But only for you, baby," I teased, and we caressed and snuggled late into the night, this time only to three AM though. I drove home fairly sober, but so so tired from the long day. That night thoughts of him consumed my dreams. My heart and cock and mind and body are all pestering me this morning, "When do we get to be with Patrick again?!"
He looked great. I guess since we met he has been able to sleep better, and this time he literally looked five years younger than before. I told him that he looked good as we embraced and pecked on the lips. "Bullshit," he said, but I'm sure that he appreciated the compliment. Who wouldn't?
While we hugged and held each other, I put my nose in the crook of his neck and just inhaled his scent like a drug. I always thought, from being in nasty, sweaty locker rooms, that a man would have this gnarly awful smell, too spunky and musky and strong to actually smell good, but not my Patrick. He smells like fresh banana bread muffins straight from the oven, a wonderfully appealing, intoxicating scent.
I took off my pants within the first two minutes of being there. I already had my pajamas on underneath, as I didn't want to waste any time getting comfortable again. I took out my own slippers and robe, and he poked fun at me, "oh God you are so queer to bring your own things." And I grabbed him playfully, pulling him into me while I poked fun back at him, "sweetie, you know how picky I am!"
Our mouths met in a hot, deep kiss. Any inhibitions from the other night about kissing him had flown out the window. He is a great kisser. Attentive, responsive, sensual and very passionate.
Within no time we were snuggling on the couch, nibbling on the hors devours that he had graciously placed on the coffee table for us. Almonds, cashews, turkey slices and crackers. He got me a beer from the fridge and packed a bowl for me to smoke. The man knows how to get me in the mood!
It wasn’t long before our hands were down each other’s pants. The chemistry between us is just so overpowering, when we are together the desire is almost too much to bear. If it weren’t for real life responsibility and the need for sleep, I would never want to leave his place, never want to stop pleasuring each other, never let go of his manly embrace.
“Let’s get naked and go roll around on my bed,” he suggested. “I’m not really in the mood to hot tub tonight.”
“Oh baby please, I really need a soak,” I pleaded, pretending to be sore; but for all my feigning discomfort, I think he knew that I was just trying to get him into that sexy little tub of his again, to relive our first time together, but this time to accept his advances with reckless abandon.
Once in the tub, no time was wasted sucking face with my gorgeous new boyfriend. I leaned into him, pushing him to the other side of the tub. Under the water I spread my legs and arched my back. He grabbed my ass with his muscular hands, tucked his middle finger between my cheeks, cupped my balls. I reached down to feel that his cock was fully hard and I playfully asked him, “how’d that happen?”
He said that making out always got him the hardest. Suddenly timid, I stopped kissing him and we went back to talking and playing touch games under the water. Soon his cock was soft again and I asked him, “what else gets you hard, I don’t know what to do.”
With that he got out of the water and sat on the edge of the tub. “Here,” he teased, “do you know what to do now?”
I gave him a wily smile and a playfully sinful look, floated across the water and immediately took his cock into my mouth. I sucked and swirled, pulled on his foreskin gently with my teeth, blew kisses and licked while his hardening cock bobbled in and out of my willing mouth. In a breath he was hard again and said, “there now little boy, I think you're getting the idea.” But he was getting cold, so he slid back down into the warm water.
A couple minutes later we went back into his house, and I lovingly dried him off with my towel. We went back into his room and grappled together naked on his bed. We touched and toyed with each other, we each put on cockrings and ended up in a sixty-nine. Sideways at first but then he had me lay on my back, and he straddled over my head and rammed my hard-on down his throat. His cock dangled right in my face and I took him into my mouth, into my throat, and he smothered me with his cock, his balls hanging over my nostrils so I couldn't breathe. The surrender to him felt so taboo, so wrong and so right, and I lifted his balls with my hands to take a deep breath, then let them tumble back onto my nose, back to being suffocated by his manhood. It felt so good.
Minutes later he was kneeled over me again and we had each other's hands between our legs, touching each other's assholes, massaging under our balls. We jerked ourselves off together, matching strokes, mano a mano, and soon he was dropping his loaded hot cum globs on my belly, and seeing him shudder with his orgasm sent me into oblivion too, and I came and came onto my belly, onto my chest and neck, flooding his cum with mine.
He collapsed on me and we just mushed the cum between our chests, squirming, mashing the moist and slippery cumfest between us, kissing deeply, moaning with delight.
Looking at the clock, I was surprised to see it wasn't even 11:30, so we went back into the living room again to snuggle and touch on the couch. He made us tea and started a fire, and we warmed each other there watching the flicker of flame together, just talking and joking and laughing again, both of us still bewildered with disbelief that we had even found each other. He recounted the impossibility of our meeting, pointing out that I had posted on craigslist in "men seeking women" and how preposterous it was for him to even be reading those ads in the first place. "Maybe you are a woman, Patrick," I teased, and he just cracked up laughing. "You are so fucking funny," he said, and we laughed with joy at the genius of it all.
Of course in no time my cock was up and ready again, and he said he just could not believe that my cock could last so long and cum so hard and yet still be ready to fuck again in a mere three minutes. "Yeah," I said, "you know my cock never got the message that I got older. He still thinks he's 18!"
Patrick laughed out loud and said that he thought that must be the funniest thing he ever heard. "Wait until I tell my girlfriends," he said. And I half-jokingly asked, "are they cute?" And without a moment's hesitation he said, "Fuck you, do you think I'd share you with them?!" A split second later he was sucking my cock again, and once again I was throbbing to complete fullness in his amazing mouth.
"Bring that beautiful cock over here, you fucking stud," I urged him, and he stood up and forced it into my mouth, into my throat, and he fucked my face while I jerked off. He put his finger slightly in my ass, quivered and shook, pulled out of my mouth and cum again onto my chest. Not one to be outdone, I quickly built up to another orgasm while he rubbed our cocks together, jerking us both off simultaneously, and before long I was cumming again and again, as if for the first time that night, the spurts leaping out of my tip and splashing on my chest, even up to my chin. "Jesus Christ!" he said, "you really are still a teenager!"
"But only for you, baby," I teased, and we caressed and snuggled late into the night, this time only to three AM though. I drove home fairly sober, but so so tired from the long day. That night thoughts of him consumed my dreams. My heart and cock and mind and body are all pestering me this morning, "When do we get to be with Patrick again?!"
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Can't Keep My Mind Off Patrick
I told Patrick I could see him again this coming Thursday, but it's only Sunday night and I can't imagine waiting that long. I really don't know how busy his schedule is, but I feel like I could go see him at least twice before Thursday comes around. It's amazing that I have become instantly addicted to this man.
Hanging out with him the other night just felt so natural and good, I found the complete lack of expectations so refreshing. Always before if I hung out with a woman I was together with, there was always expectations, that I would act a certain way or do certain things, or not do certain things like whip my dick out and jerk off on her coffee table. With Patrick things are totally different. I feel like I could share my sickest fantasies with him, or be content to just chill and watch a movie. We get along so good, and we have so much in common. Except that he's gay and I'm not.
I'm still wildly attracted to women, I'm just starting to believe that maybe they don't deserve me, or at least they cannot seem to appreciate me the way a gay man can. Hanging out with Patrick just feels more natural than any woman I can ever remember being with. It's like women just... don't... get... it.
UPDATE: After writing this, I couldn't even wait half an hour before I called him and asked if he felt like inviting me over. I'm going over there in half an hour.
Hanging out with him the other night just felt so natural and good, I found the complete lack of expectations so refreshing. Always before if I hung out with a woman I was together with, there was always expectations, that I would act a certain way or do certain things, or not do certain things like whip my dick out and jerk off on her coffee table. With Patrick things are totally different. I feel like I could share my sickest fantasies with him, or be content to just chill and watch a movie. We get along so good, and we have so much in common. Except that he's gay and I'm not.
I'm still wildly attracted to women, I'm just starting to believe that maybe they don't deserve me, or at least they cannot seem to appreciate me the way a gay man can. Hanging out with Patrick just feels more natural than any woman I can ever remember being with. It's like women just... don't... get... it.
UPDATE: After writing this, I couldn't even wait half an hour before I called him and asked if he felt like inviting me over. I'm going over there in half an hour.
Bad Words Gone Good
Here's a mental exercise, see if you can think of a positive way to use any of these "negative" words in a sentence. It's a good demonstration of how my recent new experience has changed the way I look at myself and the world.
UPDATE: I just realized how stupid and trivial this post looks here. What the hell am I, a perverted high school English teacher giving out homework assignments? So to lessen the effect of such a dumb post, I filled in my own sentences. Apologies to the reader, but must all of my posts be brilliant genius? JUST KIDDING!
Slut - Fucking men makes me feel so good, like a lucky sex-craved slut.
UPDATE: I just realized how stupid and trivial this post looks here. What the hell am I, a perverted high school English teacher giving out homework assignments? So to lessen the effect of such a dumb post, I filled in my own sentences. Apologies to the reader, but must all of my posts be brilliant genius? JUST KIDDING!
Slut - Fucking men makes me feel so good, like a lucky sex-craved slut.
Whore - Only a dirty whore can satisfy my vivacious sexual appetite.
Cunt - She came like a thundercloud after I fisted her cunt for the better part of an hour.
Bitch - My boyfriend acts like such a girlie bitch sometimes, I just love it.
Cocksucker - I am seeing the most fantastic cocksucker I have ever met.
Asshole - He fingered and licked my asshole while I came all over the place.
Bastard - My gay lover has fucked hundreds of gorgeous men, the lucky bastard.
Dick - He sucked my dick like no woman ever has.
Fuck - Who the fuck ever decided this was a bad word?
Faggot - Now that I've made love to a man, I feel much more comfortable acting a little faggoty.
Pervert - My gay lover is so relieved that I, too, am a pervert.
Friday, January 2, 2009
New Day New Year New Life
Oh my dear reader, where and how to begin? I have just had the most wonderful experience, a beautiful night with a fantastic man. He showed me things I have never known, our chemistry was like a nuclear explosion, he just showered me with love and affection and adoration. How can I possibly be so lucky? I'm still wondering when I will wake up from this incredible dream.
I always thought that if I finally ever had a gay experience, I would feel riddled with guilt. That I would become a monster of self-loathing. That I would second double guess and re-confuse my feelings, that I would place such harsh judgment on myself and fall deep into depression. Man, was I wrong. I feel whole, complete... utterly content. If only I had known that affection with a man could feel so comfortable, so right, without any reservations, regret or disgust... Yet if I had been with a man earlier, I wouldn't have had the same magical first time experience that I enjoyed last night.
As I pulled into Patrick's driveway at 6:55 PM, I thought, "oh my God, what if this is totally weird? What if he is a fucking serial killer!?" But somehow I managed to park and found his patio just as he had described, with a tiki torch lit for me, and with the porch light on. I immediately admired the design elements of the large, walled, covered patio. Nice brickwork, impeccable craftsmanship and style, garden beds, benches, a modest hot tub in a discrete corner of the yard, open to the sky, and large enough for only two, maybe three people. At this point my anti-adventurous and negative side yelled at me inside my head, "dude - RUN - A - WAY," But instead I knocked on the door.
I was a few minutes early, and at first I wondered if he had even heard me knock, I nervously pondered ringing the bell too, but within another moment he came to the door and it opened. I must have been very eager, because I guess I was standing too close to the door and as he opened it he stepped right out, nearly trampling my feet. He jumped back - startled to realize that I was a mere three inches from the door - but his surprise instantly turned to a smooth, inviting and generous calm. He backed into his home, and his warm smile drew me in like a magnet. For a moment I thought of the spider and the fly, but if this was indeed his wicked web, then I was as content as the fly to just give in to being eaten alive.
I felt comfortable right away, and he had a very gentle manner about him, just like he had during our phone conversations. I honestly did not feel attracted to him right away. He had said he was a young looking 49, and when I saw him I immediately thought that he looked young for maybe 55, "I've seen a lot hotter 49-year-olds along the way," I thought to myself. But it didn't really concern me because we had talked at length about what I might not feel entirely comfortable with, and we had prefaced our meeting on having absolutely no expectations except honesty. We would be meeting as new friends and to connect, to talk about whatever comes up. It was a relief to have such freedom when considering having my first sexual experience with a man.
Once inside, he immediately went into mothering mode, doting and pampering me, "Do you want to smoke some pot? Do you want a beer? Are you hungry? Can I make you some food?" Already I was saying yes to everything.
He made me a knock-down delicious salad with his homemade dressing, overflowing with avocados, olives, gorgonzola cheese, and ground black pepper. He laid out carne adovada, meat slices and crackers, grapes and blackberries. About the beer he got me, he said, "I don't know if this is what you like, I think it's imported," and he handed me my number one all time favorite beer in the whole wide world. I had told him the name, but this is no imported beer. This is rich and delicious handmade microbrew from the finest brewery in Oregon. He had remembered the exact type of beer that I had briefly mentioned during one of our phone conversations. His thoughtfulness and nurturing immediately notched him up on the attractive scale. Points scored for Patrick, I thought, though my inner negative was telling me to keep a critical eye out for rufies.
We relaxed and talked on the couch, and I could tell he wanted to get closer and start to get all touchy-feely, and he could tell that I wanted him to, but also that I was kinda still grappling with the idea. Though I felt comfortable, I was also pretty tense. He kept accenting the conversation by reaching out with his legs and feet to brush a touch off my knee or calf, and the more he did, the less I felt weird about it. Soon we were laying at opposite ends of the couch, our feet so close that it was inevitable that we started playing footsie. By then I had told him about my blog and we joked that tomorrow I would be pouring out all the gory details to my readers about how I finally played footsie with a man. We laughed and laughed and soon we were headed for the hot tub.
We undressed in his bedroom and the first thing I noticed was his nice, naturally toned shoulders, arms and gorgeous veins running the length. His chest was huge compared to the rest of his body. Not in a muscular way, but more skeletal: his ribcage was as big and round as a barrel keg, and it made his hips and ass look comparatively tiny. As soon as I was naked, he said, "you have a beautiful body, I don't think you are skinny one bit, you are very well proportioned, thin and very very sexy," and thus started a night of endless compliments and adoration. My cock had not yet responded, but I was honestly pretty glad to be rid of the inhibitions of the clothing.
The hot tub was the perfect temperature to the crisp night air. The stars were out and blinking at us, not a cloud in the sky. Soon our footsie game from inside evolved to having each other's feet in our crotches under the water, and I felt for the first time the softness of his cock and delicate sack. His hands inched up my legs and soon I was squirming with the anticipation of having him touch my cock. He teased a bit, and my boys instantly swelled just a little with the possibilities of the night. I could see him trying to sneak a peek through the water, to get a look at my cock on the sly. I knew exactly what he was up to, and neither gave permission nor shied away.
In a few minutes, he leaned toward me, staring into my eyes and said, "may I kiss you?"
"No." I said as kindly as I could. And he fell back onto his side of the tub, clearly dejected. I felt bad for turning him down, because I could tell he was getting pretty horny, that our stimulating and playful conversation just had him doing back flips with desire. At that moment, I knew I had him and that I was in charge and whatever was going to happen that night would be without question up to ME. It made me feel so empowered and free.
After only ten or fifteen minutes we got out of the water and went back inside. I dropped my towel and told him that I normally don't wear clothes and since I felt comfortable with him, I was just going to go nude. "Oh, okay," he tried to say nonchalantly, but I could tell that his heart had just literally dropped to the floor.
He asked if I thought I still might like the Tantric massage, and I tried to nonchalantly say, "sure," though my own heart had just literally dropped to the floor also. I didn't know if he noticed, but I certainly did.
We went to his bedroom and I laid face down on the bed while he fanned a warm towel over me and then put his knee between my legs and stood on my back with his arms, pressing on me and flowing into me a very deep intense feeling of spiritual voltage. It felt like waves of love and goodness pulsing through me like lying under a love-wave energy magnetic Tesla Coil, if there ever was such a thing. It was transcendental. He seemed to fall into a trance of loving sensual massage that felt truly divine. My spirit inside my body was floating unleashed through time-space, like I was having an outerbody experience, yet his rough and masculine, strong hands kept me tethered to the bed, tethered to this Earth. His touch was at once sexual and sexless, sensual yet ethereal. It was simply amazing and nothing short of heavenly.
That's when I realized he was now massaging my feet with his boner, and I was promptly returned to the physical realm. Even though my feet felt ice cold, he was emphatically saying "you have such sexy feet, you're just so fucking hot," and I realized he was also massaging me with his words, praising me like I was the most beautiful being in the world. I said I liked feeling his cock on my feet, and how warm it felt. He asked if I wanted to flip over and I did, and a little wave of insecurity came over me because all of this had not yet gotten me hard. I mean, he had just been massaging my perineum, my ass cheeks, my balls, my asshole. He had been fucking my feet! It had not gotten me hard one bit and I worried that it would turn him off or let him down, or that maybe it meant somehow that I wasn't at all gay or bi or queer after all.
But that's when I saw his hard cock, just sticking out so proudly and beautifully, to see it swing back and forth with his movements, and to see his cute little dick hole peeking out sheepishly from behind his foreskin, seeing the beauty of that just swelled my cock half-mast in about half a second. That was the first time ever I had seen another man's erection in real life, and my God it was just so hot. Way better than any magazine, video or DVD I can just tell you that. He proceeded to massage my now-pulsing cock for several minutes, just like he had all my other muscles, parts and areas and it just felt so good.
Soon he crawled up on the bed and brought his cock closer to me, he could see that my eyes were fixating on it, and he asked if I wanted to touch him. And with near a whimper I said yes, and timidly reached out my hand to caress and cup his balls, and my own cock throbbed to a granite obelisk in an instant at the release of repression and fulfillment of fantasy. I explored his balls and scrotum and cock, squeezing, stroking, massaging. I felt like a seventeen year old boy and I giggled with the curiosity and fascination of it. The utter strangeness and alien feeling of actually jerking another guy's cock, that here I was finally doing it at 39 after so long. Too long. If I was dreaming, I did not want to be woken up - dear God not right now, don't wake up!
Exploring his half-erect cock and dangly balls with my hands and eyes, while his strokes were getting more and more intense, he asked me, "do you want to get me hard?" Which was a little disconcerting because that's exactly what I'd been trying to do all this time. Using my left hand and having no skill-set to get anyone hard except myself, I felt like a virgin teenage boy again, which added a wonderful, innocent, time-traveling quality to the experience. Here I am trying in earnest to get this wonderful guy hard, and he asks me if I want to try to get him hard? I told him my trip and we laughed and laughed together, and he collapsed on top of me, looked up playfully and asked if he could suck my cock. I nodded yes and managed a Cheshire smile, I could feel my eyes sparkling with delight, and tried to act calm, though my heartbeat was stuck in overdrive.
He took me into his mouth just a little at first, and I had to look away, I had to lean back to try to usher out that last little gremlin inside of my personality, the homophobic bigoted gremlin with the bony finger, poking my left shoulder abrasively, saying with venom and rancor, "dude... there's a freakin' guy sucking your cock. What the fuck?!" And as I struggled to finally push him out the door of the party inside my head, meanwhile my cock got soft, and then hard, and then soft again, and I was off in my own world battling my own demons and gargoyles, telling them all to finally FUCK OFF and just let me have a good time already. It felt like a goddamn sexual exorcism inside. "BE GONE YE CRIPPLING INNER BEASTS!"
Patrick sucked my cock like a fucking Electrolux plugged into 220V. A big wet schloppy perverted human vacuum cleaner with no off switch. He twirled his tongue around my cock tip like an impeller, his blowjobs felt like a moist rotary engine with all the loud noises and intensity of a skilled craftsman who really knows their way around a cock. Like a frenzied cock mechanic on speed, and he certainly had my undercarriage up on the lift and was definitely lubing my chassis. Damn near perfection of intent, this guy's blowjobs could be a fucking patented design.
Taking a break from sucking me off for a moment, he knelt over me and I told him I wanted him to cum on my chest. He grabbed my cock like a fighter jet joystick and set the controls for the sun. He vigorously jerked his cock over me while I watched his cock and soon he was dumping hot gobs onto my chest, thick cum blobs that nearly burned my skin as they landed. It was thrilling to finally see a cumshot right in front of me, and I set off with intensity to jerk one out myself and add my own to the cum parade strewn across my pecs; but alas, I could not come no matter the technique so we said fuck it, put on robes and went back into the living room. It was nice to not feel judged for not actually being able to come, it just was what it was and that didn't seem to matter one way or the other. I liked that. No drama. No talk of visits to the marriage counselor for help.
So we just hung out on the couch together again, talking and laughing, smoking pot, and I had another beer. Patrick got out some Maplethorpe books and some other book that was just so fucking sexy and beautifully photographed of this insanely hot and charismatic model, I mean hotter than the hottest movie star kind of hot. And I let my robe fall open so he could see I was hard as a rock again, and he nearly jumped my bones and pleasured me again with his fantastic technique. He has a full length mirror in the living room and I stood up and watched him suck my cock while I enjoyed my own voyeuristic world, he pushed me all the way down his throat and just showered me with compliments, "I love your cock, I love to suck your cock, you are just so fucking sexy, oh my God I just want you inside of me, I want you to come," and on and on with such praise and assurance and sweet dirty talk. It was a real turn on to have my ego so stroked, not to mention the masterful cocksucker kneeled before me, and watching in the mirror our own live gay sex show.
We hung out again for a few hours, late late into the evening, and I was content to just be pleasured on and off. And somehow I didn't let it bother me that I couldn't seem to cum, and it didn't seem to bother him. After a while though, I started to get horny again and I decided in my mind that if I was going to ever suck a cock, now's as good a time as any. So I shed my inhibitions and opened up his robe, pulled down his underwear, took his cock in my hand and began to kiss it, slowly at first, up and down the shaft, gradually letting my kisses get wetter and wetter. I smelled his cock to see if somehow his scent grossed me out, but it didn't. He smelled kind of good actually, and soon I found myself more comfortable with kissing the tip, and I timidly took him into my mouth. It felt so good, his hardening cock still so soft and smooth against my tongue and mouth and soon, my curiosity building, I was taking his cock into my throat. He was so gentle and never thrust, letting me find my own way and what worked for me. I was amazed to find his 6" cock fitting nearly all the way into my mouth! And I felt like such a dirty slut that my cock raged to rock hard once again, and I kissed his lips.
I laid back with my feet up on the couch, he stood up to stick his cock in my face and I took him into my mouth again while I jerked my cock furiously, his hand cupped under my balls, his finger gently rubbing my asshole, I fucked him with my face and it got me ever closer to that orgasm that had thus far eluded me. I could tell that if we could get me there, this was going to be a cumload for the Ages, because we had been fooling around for some five hours, and my cock literally felt like a stick of dynamite finally reaching the end of it's mile-long, lit fuse.
As I built toward my climax, he put his face between my legs and sucked on my perineum and licked my balls and sucked the base of my shaft and that sent me over the edge, "oh yes, Patrick, I'm cumming!" and I shot loads upon loads of voluminous, wet hot cum all out onto my chest like a Mississippi flood. He was in his own world down there between my balls and hadn't even seen the eruption, and he laughed and said "HOLY SHIT THE VIGOR OF YOUTH!" once he saw what had actually happened there, and he ran to get a roll of paper towels before I spilled over my chest and arms and soiled the couch.
I was too drunk and stoned to drive home, and he made up the couch as a bed for me to sleep. Sweet man even gave me a valium, and he said that if I slept in his bed he would not be able to keep his hands off of me and he'd want to suck my cock until the morning light, but obviously we both needed sleep as it was already four o'clock in the morning.
All night I dreamt of making love to Patrick. My gremlin and demons and gargoyles even returned to the dream to try to make me feel guilty about fucking a guy and loving it, there at the party in my head they outed me in front of everyone but they all said to them, "yeah, so fucking what?" And in my dream, they were laughed out of the ballroom, and Patrick and I continued to dance, the focus of attention and the life of the party. It was a crazy, fitting dream. In the morning I told him about my dream and he fucked me with his masterful mouth again.
I can't wait to see him again. I can't believe I have a boyfriend, and it feels really, really good.
I always thought that if I finally ever had a gay experience, I would feel riddled with guilt. That I would become a monster of self-loathing. That I would second double guess and re-confuse my feelings, that I would place such harsh judgment on myself and fall deep into depression. Man, was I wrong. I feel whole, complete... utterly content. If only I had known that affection with a man could feel so comfortable, so right, without any reservations, regret or disgust... Yet if I had been with a man earlier, I wouldn't have had the same magical first time experience that I enjoyed last night.
As I pulled into Patrick's driveway at 6:55 PM, I thought, "oh my God, what if this is totally weird? What if he is a fucking serial killer!?" But somehow I managed to park and found his patio just as he had described, with a tiki torch lit for me, and with the porch light on. I immediately admired the design elements of the large, walled, covered patio. Nice brickwork, impeccable craftsmanship and style, garden beds, benches, a modest hot tub in a discrete corner of the yard, open to the sky, and large enough for only two, maybe three people. At this point my anti-adventurous and negative side yelled at me inside my head, "dude - RUN - A - WAY," But instead I knocked on the door.
I was a few minutes early, and at first I wondered if he had even heard me knock, I nervously pondered ringing the bell too, but within another moment he came to the door and it opened. I must have been very eager, because I guess I was standing too close to the door and as he opened it he stepped right out, nearly trampling my feet. He jumped back - startled to realize that I was a mere three inches from the door - but his surprise instantly turned to a smooth, inviting and generous calm. He backed into his home, and his warm smile drew me in like a magnet. For a moment I thought of the spider and the fly, but if this was indeed his wicked web, then I was as content as the fly to just give in to being eaten alive.
I felt comfortable right away, and he had a very gentle manner about him, just like he had during our phone conversations. I honestly did not feel attracted to him right away. He had said he was a young looking 49, and when I saw him I immediately thought that he looked young for maybe 55, "I've seen a lot hotter 49-year-olds along the way," I thought to myself. But it didn't really concern me because we had talked at length about what I might not feel entirely comfortable with, and we had prefaced our meeting on having absolutely no expectations except honesty. We would be meeting as new friends and to connect, to talk about whatever comes up. It was a relief to have such freedom when considering having my first sexual experience with a man.
Once inside, he immediately went into mothering mode, doting and pampering me, "Do you want to smoke some pot? Do you want a beer? Are you hungry? Can I make you some food?" Already I was saying yes to everything.
He made me a knock-down delicious salad with his homemade dressing, overflowing with avocados, olives, gorgonzola cheese, and ground black pepper. He laid out carne adovada, meat slices and crackers, grapes and blackberries. About the beer he got me, he said, "I don't know if this is what you like, I think it's imported," and he handed me my number one all time favorite beer in the whole wide world. I had told him the name, but this is no imported beer. This is rich and delicious handmade microbrew from the finest brewery in Oregon. He had remembered the exact type of beer that I had briefly mentioned during one of our phone conversations. His thoughtfulness and nurturing immediately notched him up on the attractive scale. Points scored for Patrick, I thought, though my inner negative was telling me to keep a critical eye out for rufies.
We relaxed and talked on the couch, and I could tell he wanted to get closer and start to get all touchy-feely, and he could tell that I wanted him to, but also that I was kinda still grappling with the idea. Though I felt comfortable, I was also pretty tense. He kept accenting the conversation by reaching out with his legs and feet to brush a touch off my knee or calf, and the more he did, the less I felt weird about it. Soon we were laying at opposite ends of the couch, our feet so close that it was inevitable that we started playing footsie. By then I had told him about my blog and we joked that tomorrow I would be pouring out all the gory details to my readers about how I finally played footsie with a man. We laughed and laughed and soon we were headed for the hot tub.
We undressed in his bedroom and the first thing I noticed was his nice, naturally toned shoulders, arms and gorgeous veins running the length. His chest was huge compared to the rest of his body. Not in a muscular way, but more skeletal: his ribcage was as big and round as a barrel keg, and it made his hips and ass look comparatively tiny. As soon as I was naked, he said, "you have a beautiful body, I don't think you are skinny one bit, you are very well proportioned, thin and very very sexy," and thus started a night of endless compliments and adoration. My cock had not yet responded, but I was honestly pretty glad to be rid of the inhibitions of the clothing.
The hot tub was the perfect temperature to the crisp night air. The stars were out and blinking at us, not a cloud in the sky. Soon our footsie game from inside evolved to having each other's feet in our crotches under the water, and I felt for the first time the softness of his cock and delicate sack. His hands inched up my legs and soon I was squirming with the anticipation of having him touch my cock. He teased a bit, and my boys instantly swelled just a little with the possibilities of the night. I could see him trying to sneak a peek through the water, to get a look at my cock on the sly. I knew exactly what he was up to, and neither gave permission nor shied away.
In a few minutes, he leaned toward me, staring into my eyes and said, "may I kiss you?"
"No." I said as kindly as I could. And he fell back onto his side of the tub, clearly dejected. I felt bad for turning him down, because I could tell he was getting pretty horny, that our stimulating and playful conversation just had him doing back flips with desire. At that moment, I knew I had him and that I was in charge and whatever was going to happen that night would be without question up to ME. It made me feel so empowered and free.
After only ten or fifteen minutes we got out of the water and went back inside. I dropped my towel and told him that I normally don't wear clothes and since I felt comfortable with him, I was just going to go nude. "Oh, okay," he tried to say nonchalantly, but I could tell that his heart had just literally dropped to the floor.
He asked if I thought I still might like the Tantric massage, and I tried to nonchalantly say, "sure," though my own heart had just literally dropped to the floor also. I didn't know if he noticed, but I certainly did.
We went to his bedroom and I laid face down on the bed while he fanned a warm towel over me and then put his knee between my legs and stood on my back with his arms, pressing on me and flowing into me a very deep intense feeling of spiritual voltage. It felt like waves of love and goodness pulsing through me like lying under a love-wave energy magnetic Tesla Coil, if there ever was such a thing. It was transcendental. He seemed to fall into a trance of loving sensual massage that felt truly divine. My spirit inside my body was floating unleashed through time-space, like I was having an outerbody experience, yet his rough and masculine, strong hands kept me tethered to the bed, tethered to this Earth. His touch was at once sexual and sexless, sensual yet ethereal. It was simply amazing and nothing short of heavenly.
That's when I realized he was now massaging my feet with his boner, and I was promptly returned to the physical realm. Even though my feet felt ice cold, he was emphatically saying "you have such sexy feet, you're just so fucking hot," and I realized he was also massaging me with his words, praising me like I was the most beautiful being in the world. I said I liked feeling his cock on my feet, and how warm it felt. He asked if I wanted to flip over and I did, and a little wave of insecurity came over me because all of this had not yet gotten me hard. I mean, he had just been massaging my perineum, my ass cheeks, my balls, my asshole. He had been fucking my feet! It had not gotten me hard one bit and I worried that it would turn him off or let him down, or that maybe it meant somehow that I wasn't at all gay or bi or queer after all.
But that's when I saw his hard cock, just sticking out so proudly and beautifully, to see it swing back and forth with his movements, and to see his cute little dick hole peeking out sheepishly from behind his foreskin, seeing the beauty of that just swelled my cock half-mast in about half a second. That was the first time ever I had seen another man's erection in real life, and my God it was just so hot. Way better than any magazine, video or DVD I can just tell you that. He proceeded to massage my now-pulsing cock for several minutes, just like he had all my other muscles, parts and areas and it just felt so good.
Soon he crawled up on the bed and brought his cock closer to me, he could see that my eyes were fixating on it, and he asked if I wanted to touch him. And with near a whimper I said yes, and timidly reached out my hand to caress and cup his balls, and my own cock throbbed to a granite obelisk in an instant at the release of repression and fulfillment of fantasy. I explored his balls and scrotum and cock, squeezing, stroking, massaging. I felt like a seventeen year old boy and I giggled with the curiosity and fascination of it. The utter strangeness and alien feeling of actually jerking another guy's cock, that here I was finally doing it at 39 after so long. Too long. If I was dreaming, I did not want to be woken up - dear God not right now, don't wake up!
Exploring his half-erect cock and dangly balls with my hands and eyes, while his strokes were getting more and more intense, he asked me, "do you want to get me hard?" Which was a little disconcerting because that's exactly what I'd been trying to do all this time. Using my left hand and having no skill-set to get anyone hard except myself, I felt like a virgin teenage boy again, which added a wonderful, innocent, time-traveling quality to the experience. Here I am trying in earnest to get this wonderful guy hard, and he asks me if I want to try to get him hard? I told him my trip and we laughed and laughed together, and he collapsed on top of me, looked up playfully and asked if he could suck my cock. I nodded yes and managed a Cheshire smile, I could feel my eyes sparkling with delight, and tried to act calm, though my heartbeat was stuck in overdrive.
He took me into his mouth just a little at first, and I had to look away, I had to lean back to try to usher out that last little gremlin inside of my personality, the homophobic bigoted gremlin with the bony finger, poking my left shoulder abrasively, saying with venom and rancor, "dude... there's a freakin' guy sucking your cock. What the fuck?!" And as I struggled to finally push him out the door of the party inside my head, meanwhile my cock got soft, and then hard, and then soft again, and I was off in my own world battling my own demons and gargoyles, telling them all to finally FUCK OFF and just let me have a good time already. It felt like a goddamn sexual exorcism inside. "BE GONE YE CRIPPLING INNER BEASTS!"
Patrick sucked my cock like a fucking Electrolux plugged into 220V. A big wet schloppy perverted human vacuum cleaner with no off switch. He twirled his tongue around my cock tip like an impeller, his blowjobs felt like a moist rotary engine with all the loud noises and intensity of a skilled craftsman who really knows their way around a cock. Like a frenzied cock mechanic on speed, and he certainly had my undercarriage up on the lift and was definitely lubing my chassis. Damn near perfection of intent, this guy's blowjobs could be a fucking patented design.
Taking a break from sucking me off for a moment, he knelt over me and I told him I wanted him to cum on my chest. He grabbed my cock like a fighter jet joystick and set the controls for the sun. He vigorously jerked his cock over me while I watched his cock and soon he was dumping hot gobs onto my chest, thick cum blobs that nearly burned my skin as they landed. It was thrilling to finally see a cumshot right in front of me, and I set off with intensity to jerk one out myself and add my own to the cum parade strewn across my pecs; but alas, I could not come no matter the technique so we said fuck it, put on robes and went back into the living room. It was nice to not feel judged for not actually being able to come, it just was what it was and that didn't seem to matter one way or the other. I liked that. No drama. No talk of visits to the marriage counselor for help.
So we just hung out on the couch together again, talking and laughing, smoking pot, and I had another beer. Patrick got out some Maplethorpe books and some other book that was just so fucking sexy and beautifully photographed of this insanely hot and charismatic model, I mean hotter than the hottest movie star kind of hot. And I let my robe fall open so he could see I was hard as a rock again, and he nearly jumped my bones and pleasured me again with his fantastic technique. He has a full length mirror in the living room and I stood up and watched him suck my cock while I enjoyed my own voyeuristic world, he pushed me all the way down his throat and just showered me with compliments, "I love your cock, I love to suck your cock, you are just so fucking sexy, oh my God I just want you inside of me, I want you to come," and on and on with such praise and assurance and sweet dirty talk. It was a real turn on to have my ego so stroked, not to mention the masterful cocksucker kneeled before me, and watching in the mirror our own live gay sex show.
We hung out again for a few hours, late late into the evening, and I was content to just be pleasured on and off. And somehow I didn't let it bother me that I couldn't seem to cum, and it didn't seem to bother him. After a while though, I started to get horny again and I decided in my mind that if I was going to ever suck a cock, now's as good a time as any. So I shed my inhibitions and opened up his robe, pulled down his underwear, took his cock in my hand and began to kiss it, slowly at first, up and down the shaft, gradually letting my kisses get wetter and wetter. I smelled his cock to see if somehow his scent grossed me out, but it didn't. He smelled kind of good actually, and soon I found myself more comfortable with kissing the tip, and I timidly took him into my mouth. It felt so good, his hardening cock still so soft and smooth against my tongue and mouth and soon, my curiosity building, I was taking his cock into my throat. He was so gentle and never thrust, letting me find my own way and what worked for me. I was amazed to find his 6" cock fitting nearly all the way into my mouth! And I felt like such a dirty slut that my cock raged to rock hard once again, and I kissed his lips.
I laid back with my feet up on the couch, he stood up to stick his cock in my face and I took him into my mouth again while I jerked my cock furiously, his hand cupped under my balls, his finger gently rubbing my asshole, I fucked him with my face and it got me ever closer to that orgasm that had thus far eluded me. I could tell that if we could get me there, this was going to be a cumload for the Ages, because we had been fooling around for some five hours, and my cock literally felt like a stick of dynamite finally reaching the end of it's mile-long, lit fuse.
As I built toward my climax, he put his face between my legs and sucked on my perineum and licked my balls and sucked the base of my shaft and that sent me over the edge, "oh yes, Patrick, I'm cumming!" and I shot loads upon loads of voluminous, wet hot cum all out onto my chest like a Mississippi flood. He was in his own world down there between my balls and hadn't even seen the eruption, and he laughed and said "HOLY SHIT THE VIGOR OF YOUTH!" once he saw what had actually happened there, and he ran to get a roll of paper towels before I spilled over my chest and arms and soiled the couch.
I was too drunk and stoned to drive home, and he made up the couch as a bed for me to sleep. Sweet man even gave me a valium, and he said that if I slept in his bed he would not be able to keep his hands off of me and he'd want to suck my cock until the morning light, but obviously we both needed sleep as it was already four o'clock in the morning.
All night I dreamt of making love to Patrick. My gremlin and demons and gargoyles even returned to the dream to try to make me feel guilty about fucking a guy and loving it, there at the party in my head they outed me in front of everyone but they all said to them, "yeah, so fucking what?" And in my dream, they were laughed out of the ballroom, and Patrick and I continued to dance, the focus of attention and the life of the party. It was a crazy, fitting dream. In the morning I told him about my dream and he fucked me with his masterful mouth again.
I can't wait to see him again. I can't believe I have a boyfriend, and it feels really, really good.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Craigslist Ad Leads to the Unexpected
The other day I posted a heartfelt poem on craigslist about what I'm searching for. Funny thing was that its in the "men seeking women" section, and I guess my post really spoke to a lot of people 'cause I got lots of responses - including one from a gay guy! Here is the poem I wrote:
I see beauty everywhere, my eyes focus like a lens
My mind wanders seeking expression in words
I am shy and reserved, yet open and self aware
I love conversation and the power of ideas
I want to understand and to be understood
I am deep, spiritual, honest and kind
Sometimes I’m blue, but I always see the good
I know you’re out there, help me find you
I love writing, music, the vast outdoors
I’m here for the mountains, sun and sky
So much love and no one to share
The only thing missing is you...
So the very night I posted it, I got a curious response that said, "What a beautiful post, is it only for women?" And I wrote back, "Maybe... Tell me about yourself." And this really sweet guy named Patrick wrote me back offering a massage and to hang out. We ended up talking on the phone for like 2 hours that night. Then we talked on the phone again today for about an hour. And I'm going over to his house in about an hour.
This is very exciting because it is totally new territory for me, and also to be on the verge of fulfilling a longtime fantasy, to hang out with a really tender and sweet gay guy with the potential for more, like fooling around! He has a hot tub and he smokes pot, so at the very least it will be nice to just chill with a natural person. There's a lot I want to talk about, about being gay, about being queer, bi, or whatever, and I want to confide in him these feelings I've been having, because it seems like he'll really understand.
Our spiritual connection on the phone is really obvious, and there's a lot of sexual tension but still in a comfortable way. Of course my cynical and fearful side wants to force me to cancel, but I don't think I'm going to let that happen. He seems really genuine and real, and seems like at the very least he could be a good guy friend that I can actually talk to about all of this inside of me. He's older than me by about ten years, so I don't really know if there'll be an attraction or any chemistry there, but there's only one way to find out! We talked about so much deep stuff on the phone, I think he has a little crush on me because he said he really hoped that there was physical chemistry between us. I kinda hope so too.
Tomorrow's post will be about what happened tonight! Wish me luck, dear friends! Here's to a brand new year.
This is very exciting because it is totally new territory for me, and also to be on the verge of fulfilling a longtime fantasy, to hang out with a really tender and sweet gay guy with the potential for more, like fooling around! He has a hot tub and he smokes pot, so at the very least it will be nice to just chill with a natural person. There's a lot I want to talk about, about being gay, about being queer, bi, or whatever, and I want to confide in him these feelings I've been having, because it seems like he'll really understand.
Our spiritual connection on the phone is really obvious, and there's a lot of sexual tension but still in a comfortable way. Of course my cynical and fearful side wants to force me to cancel, but I don't think I'm going to let that happen. He seems really genuine and real, and seems like at the very least he could be a good guy friend that I can actually talk to about all of this inside of me. He's older than me by about ten years, so I don't really know if there'll be an attraction or any chemistry there, but there's only one way to find out! We talked about so much deep stuff on the phone, I think he has a little crush on me because he said he really hoped that there was physical chemistry between us. I kinda hope so too.
Tomorrow's post will be about what happened tonight! Wish me luck, dear friends! Here's to a brand new year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
