Recently in Sex Category

==========
I'm reposting this one because it's one of my absolute favorites and it came to my mind because I'm on my way out to the barber shop to see my fine ass barber right now.

Enjoy.

Originally posted on September 5, 2007 7:14 PM
==========

Ahhh yes, the barber shop. "The Black Man's Country Club," as a black man the barber shop has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I remember hating it as a child though. Every other Saturday my mother would give my oldest sister money to take me to the barber shop. She would take me to her friend's barber shop to get my hair cut. And of course her friend was the most popular barber in the shop and of course everyone wanted to go to him to get their hair cut and of course it would take all day long. She would make me wait, and wait, and wait for him even as other barbers anxiously stood around with empty chairs. I hated the barber shop so much that I grew a high top for a few years as a child, but even that you have to fade and shape up. The end of the haircut though was always the worst. That spray with the minty green alcohol would sting so much. What the hell did they used to cut my hair with, a rusty meat cleaver?

In my preteen years I changed barbers and started going to the barbershop by myself. I wouldn't have to wait for my sister's barber friend anymore. I could choose any barber I wanted, whoever's chair was free. I was in and I was out. That's until the first time I got "zeeked". Getting zeeked is getting a fucked up haircut. There was nothing you could do to reverse a zeeking, once it's done, it's done. Your only choices were to go bald or stay indoors until your hair grows back right. I got zeeked by this drunken, yellow-eyed barber (didn't realize that at the time) once when I was 13. He cut my hair way too low and I hadn't fully grown into my head yet, and having hair on my head had caused the top of my head not to tan the color as the rest of my face. I looked crazy. When I looked in that mirror and saw my head I wanted to kill him. As a remedy to the situation I went home and pretended to be sick for a whole week until my hair started to grow back. I could not let the whole eighth grade see me looking like that. To this day my mother doesn't even know I was faking that whole thing.

But when I grew into my teen years and now into my adult years started to became more of a pleasure than a mere necessity. Besides the obvious feeling of wanting to look good. I started getting into how sexy some of these barbers are. The barber shop, like most things can be so homo-erotic. Get into it. There's me, the customer in the big leather chair and my sexy ass barber giving dap to his last customer. He flashes his million dollar smile at me and asks "What do you want?" If he only knew what I really wanted, too bad all these other people are around.

I look ahead and see him in the mirror as he walks up behind me to unfurl the black nylon barber cape that he fastens around my neck ever so gently, his every touch sending electricity to the nether regions of my body. I catch a glimpse of his ass as he turns around and begins to fiddle with his barber's instruments. He stands in front of me at 1:30 and then 10:30, his body slightly leaned over cutting my hair down. The light scent of his cologne is intoxicating as I watch my hair drop to the floor. I close my eyes as he slightly brushes his fingers against my face and I let the hum of his clippers relax me.

He stops, switches clippers and steps to me, the closest he's been to my face yet. His left hand lightly lifting my chin as he lines me up. I look at his face, my eyes tracing his strong masculine features and jawline, then I look to the right at the glass cookie jar filled with condoms and lube packets, then down to the left at the bulge in his jeans, then back up into his beautiful brown eyes that hypnotize me, up to his perfectly edged up hairline and back down to his juicy pink with lips with that thin mustache that rides them so perfectly. I want to kiss him so bad I could taste it. If he could only see how hard I am under this cape. If only he knew how badly I wanted him to rip this cape off me and ride me until we both climax.

He pulls back from me, lightly places his hand over my eyes and sprays three strong misty puffs of green alcohol over my head, then he removes my cape and lets me get a once over in the hand mirror. Alas, my haircut is over and I didn't even get to cum. That stings more than the alcohol. I come back down to reality and see all the pictures that line his barber's station. I forgot, he's straight. I conveniently forget that every week I come in.

I look good though, as usual he did a good job and I give him a good tip, not the tip I would have to have given him though if the situation were different. But it's worth it, anything to see him flash that smile at me again. Now I have to find a way to hide this erection I've got and not make eye contact with anyone as I leave the barbershop. I'll be back next week though.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Dirty Mind"
by Prince
from the album "Dirty Mind"
==========

It seems like every other day I'm finding that someone I know or used to mess with either used to be in porn or is currently starring in porn. It's like every other homo out there is getting dicked down in some porn, as though this is a viable career or something. I mean hey, I'm not one to judge and I watch my share of porn (especially the ones at Nubian101.com), but anyone can agree that porn isn't exactly the healthiest career choice. I'm guessing, straight people help me out here, that this isn't too much of an issue for y'all. As far as how I feel about it all, the past is the past, I wouldn't necessarily say that I couldn't be with someone who used to do porn, but I can say with much certainty that I couldn't be serious about someone who currently has a career in porn. Now if we just fuckin', then it doesn't matter.

As far as me doing porn, I've been asked a few times by a few different companies, and even by a few dates and as flattering as that all is, I have always declined. There's no way in the world I'm doing porn. I already do this blog, I don't wanna totally give my mother a heart attack.

This social climate where it seems like everybody is doing porn now prompted some friends and I to have this conversation the other day. A friend of mine posed the question: How many porn stars have you slept with? I had to think about about it. How many people had I messed around with who had been or are now doing porn? As of about two weeks ago my number is four. I've fucked four porn stars. Two I knew about and two I didn't.

Who they are you ask? You know them. Three of them are currently working. Am I gonna  give up their names? Hell no. Y'all know I'm not messy like that.

So, how many porn stars have you slept with? Comment and let me know.

By the way, if you haven't noticed, the "Comments" link is now at the top of the posts right under the title instead of the bottom.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Save The World"
by Girlicious
from the album "Girlicious"
==========

When your fucking or jerking or sucking or whatever it is you do and the time comes for your partner, friend, boyfriend, best friend's boyfriend, milkman, mailman, or random stranger you meet off the internet-man to cum. Where do you like for him to cum? Thither or hither, wither or neither, be it a blasting cum shot or a dribbling slither?

When I first started fucking around I used to have a problem with cum. I thought it was nasty, slimy, sticky and disgusting. I didn't even like the feeling of my own cum on me when I jerked off. The first time I had sex and another dude came on me I felt like my skin was on fire. I couldn't get that shit off me fast enough. As time marched on I got somewhat used to it but it's still not my favorite thing in the world. As a top I don't have to worry about it much except when a bottom is riding me and then he cums all over my chest, but I make an exception for that because that shit is hot. Then there are the people that are into facials. I've given a few in my day and it's hot to be able to cum all over your partner's face. It speaks to the most animalistic part of us as males, marking our territory if you will. Now has a nigga ever nutted on my face...? HELL NO. There's nothing wrong with it, obviously, but it's just not for me. Well, there was this one time I got my dick sucked so good that when I nutted I nutted so far I hit my eyebrow. That was the first and only time cum has touched ever my face and it was mine, so I guess it doesn't count.

Then there's the swallowing thing. There are some people who like to swallow. I swallowed once. The only reason why I did it was because there was no other place for it to go. A few years ago me and this guy I was dating were in a movie theatre sucking each other off. I was sucking him and suddenly and this stuff filled my mouth. I panicked, I hadn't planned for that to happen. I didn't know what else to do so I swallowed it. Totally fucking gross.

I find that when I'm fucking and I'm about to cum the person will often ask me. "Where you wanna bust that nutt daddy?" In fact I remember this one time I was with this one guy and all he wanted me to do was nutt in his face and once I did he got really excited and busted his nut everywhere. Nothing is hotter that cumming on someone who really wants it. On his ass or his face or his chest or his lips, it's all hot. But, no matter where he wants me to cum, as long as he treats me right when it's all over I'll keep cumming back for more.

How do you feel about cum?

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Epiphany"
by Jill Scott
from the album " The Real Thing: Words And Sounds Vol. 3"
==========

The other night I had some of the best sex of my life. His body was so tight, the way his smooth chocolate skin stretched across his muscles. His lips were some of the softest I'd ever felt, I could kiss him all day. It felt so warm and soft and juicy inside him, the way he moaned and called me "Daddy" and took the dick so well and moved in all the right ways. His legs wrapped around me with me all the way inside of him, holding him, squeezing him, kissing him passionately as sweat lubricated our bodies, he felt like it was made just for me. A few times out of full unadulterated passion that he told me that he loved me. It wasn't just sex, we made love. It was perfect... Well, except for the fact that we'd just met and one of the main reasons why he called me "Daddy" was because I never got around to telling him my name and on top of that he's not my type and we'd never actually work outside the bedroom. Have you ever found yourself having the right sex with the wrong person?

It's crazy. I mean yeah, so, I'm gay. I'm gay and I'm a full top and most of my friends are bottoms. So yes, obviously a good portion of my friendships are birthed from failed relationships or something sexual in nature. And in my life, this life, the gay life I value my friendships more than anything and I try my best not to cross that line and put our friendship in jeopardy. Even so, every so often I may have a friend who develops more than friendly feelings for me. Most would ask why I wouldn't just get with one of my friends, they're already someone who I know and get along with, and can fulfill my emotional, intellectual and social needs but see here's the thing, yes one of my friends could be the right person, but the sex is or would be wrong. Because either, I'm not attracted to the friend that way or we may have had involvement before that didn't work out or develop into anything partly because the sex wasn't right then. Have you ever found yourself having the wrong sex with the right person?

I can think of people that I can get with today who I can really be happy with. We can hang out and chill and I know I'd get all the love and support I need and they would be a good boyfriend. somebody who I can build something with but I'm not physically attracted to them. What's a nigga to do? I don't wanna play with someone's emotions and string them along because as good as all the non-physical aspects of a relationship can be I know I need sex. Sex is important to me and if I'm not being fulfilled I know I'm gonna stray. But then again I can have the hottest sex in the world with someone else and then that's all though, we don't get along outside the bedroom, our dreams and goals and outlook on life don't align. What gives? Where is the balance? Where is they guy who has it all or at least most of it? I don't wanna settle, but I don't wanna be old and alone. I know I'm only 25, but I think about this kinda stuff because this is how it starts. You say, oh I'm only 25 I don't have to worry about that, then you're 30, 35, 40, 45 and before you know it you're that 50 year old guy at the club that all the 25 year olds make fun of, or even worse that 50 year old guy on BGC or A4A that all the 25 year olds make fun of. Perish the thought.

What y'all think? Am I trippin?

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Till The End Of The World"
by Michelle Williams
from the album "Unexpected"
==========

Hey y'all,

I've received quite a few comments and emails about my blog post from a couple of days ago about the "Two Minute Bottom" and I thank you all for your interest in that. There was one response though that I feel I must address. Here it is:

Adam,

I found your blog while trying to pick the LBGT section (of the 2008 Black Web Log Awards). I'm voting for yours b/c it's truly interesting and entertaining. However, one thing you said caught my eye in this post... the wet spot.

I hope you were talking tongue in cheek and not being literal. If otherwise, please practice safe sex consistently and use a condom. I lost my best friend many years ago and I'd hate for that to happen to you.

You don't need to post this, it's just a personal message for you.

Take care and hugs.
-Concerned New Reader

Hey Concerned New Reader,

First of all thanks for your vote for me for the Black Web Log Awards, that means SOOOO much to me. Even though you said I didn't need to post this I decided to anyway because you brought up such an important point.

As you all know I write quite a bit about my sex life. At times I've been known to have been quite descriptive, talking about when and where and how and what position and how it felt and what he did and what I did, etc. Thinking back on some of my posts I realized that in the retelling of all of my sex-capades I tend to gloss over one important detail. Most of the time I fail to mention my use of condoms and to the six of you who I haven't already fucked (LOL that's a joke, there's really about thirty of you who I haven't already fucked... yet! LOL) you'd think that I don't use condoms. Well, my friends that's far from the truth. I'm a big advocate for condom use. That's half the reason why I'm able to last so long to have all these bottoms cumming the way I do. Y'all ain't think I was doing that shit raw, did you? In fact it's scary to me if a bottom comes to me with the idea of raw sex, especially if I'm not in a relationship with or don't know the person like that.

This reminds me of a conversation I had with Will Kane, who is the author of a black gay erotica book, entitled Forbidden Fruit: Psalms Of A Black Master (if y'all think I'm descriptive, this blog is Highlights for Children compared to his books). Will talked about how sometimes he mentions condom use in his book and how sometimes he doesn't and how it could potentially take away from the passion of the story. And I guess he's right. His books are about exploring sexual fantasy and condoms unfortunately are very much a sobering reality. Now I'm thinking about why I never incorporated my condom use into the stories I tell which are indeed my reality.

I guess it's because for me it's a given. Putting on a condom to me is just as natural to sex as taking your clothes off or unbuttoning your fly. If I tell a story and I go from me and I guy kissing at the front door to me long stroking him in his bed you'll assume that somewhere along the way we got naked. I guess I kinda feel the same way about condoms. As hot as all my experiences have been they all contain that awkward 45 seconds where I must ask "So what you wanna do?" or "Do you wanna feel this?" or "Do you want me to put it in?" No matter how or how much I ask the question it never ceases to be uncomfortable. Once I get an affirmative response, if I get an affirmative response, we lube up, I strap on a condom and we go off into ecstasy.

So kids please don't think I don't use condoms because I do and you should too. EVERY TIME. Lord knows I'm not perfect and there have been mishaps, but most of that shit was in the past. It's crazy to believe that in 2008 there are homos out here consistently and purposely not wrapping it up, but unfortunately there are. There's not even a valid excuse not to use a condom, especially here in New York City, the city gives them away. Not only at health centers but at gay and straight bars and restaurants. And for you Magnum users there are even organizations giving those away now, that's how I get mine. ;) So wrap it up kids!

As far as "the wet spot" is concerned. The wet spot or a series of wet spots for me can be obtained in many ways, none having to do with unsafe sex. For example: If I'm fucking from behind and the dude cums onto my sheets while on his knees or laying on his stomach, there's a wet spot. If there's sweat generated during the sex, there's a wet spot. If I rip off the condom before I cum and shoot all over him and in the process hit my pillows, the headboard and the wall behind us, or if he's on his back and cums like that, there are wet spots everywhere. All of which are hot during sex but become super gross after you cum and are to be avoided at all costs.

Thank you so much again for your vote Concerned New Reader and your concern and I hope this calms your fears.

-Adam Benjamin Irby

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Exclusively"
by Jill Scott
from the album "Words And Sounds, Volume 1"
==========

A common complaint from bottoms and even straight women about having sex with a man is that sometimes a lot of men seem to cum too fast during sex, leaving them unsatisfied and over it. Lately I've been noticing that this issue has been manifesting itself in my sex life as well, but in my case it's the other way around. If something happens to me once, it's a fluke, twice, it's a coincidence, three times, it's a phenomenon. Ladies and gentlemen and all others in between I introduce to you, the two minute bottom.

Unlike a lot of tops I've heard of, I'm totally into pleasing my bottom. I get off on their pleasure. More often than not, about eighty-five, ninety percent of the time, when I'm fucking the bottom always cums first. In fact with one of my exes I used to make him cum first EVERY TIME we had sex. When people ask me why I'm so selfless in the bedroom I explain to them my reasoning for it, which in some ways can actually seem kinda selfish.

Number one: Like I said before, I totally get off on the moans, and the yells, and even the screams of my partner and if you've got somebody moaning, yelling and screaming long enough, they're gonna cum.

Number two: If we're fucking and I make you cum first I then don't have to worry about you when I'm ready to cum. Because when I cum I'mma wanna go to sleep or at least rest for a little bit. I'm not gonna wanna turn over and lick your nipples or jerk you off or play with your ass, whatever you need to make you cum. After all that hard work, heaving and pumping, tryna fuck you a nigro is tired. If I can get you taken care of all I gotta do for me is jerk off a little. it's not like I wasn't close and just holding out on my shit for you anyway so a couple of strokes and I'm done too and now we can both rest and avoid the wet spot until our lazy asses are ready take a shower.

Number three: Nothing makes you feel more like the mothafuckin' man than to make your shawty cum so hard his legs are shaking.

Number four: If you can master one, two, and three you can always keep him coming back for more. Do you know how many people I've messed around with in the past still want me to fuck them regardless of the fact that we're not together anymore and don't hardly speak? it's crazy.

I just totally went off subject there. Anyway, ummm yeah so if I ever get the chance to fuck you I'm gonna try my very best to make you cum first. The only downside to this is that lately it seems that I've been making them cum a little too quick. And you know once that bottom cums any fucking after that is a wrap. That hole tightens up and my once oh-so-pleasurable dick starts to feel like a hot cactus and its time to pull out.

There was this guy, lets call him Jackson. Jackson and I carried on an illicit affair a while back. He had someone and I had someone. I know, I know, it's horrible and terrible, we were cheating on our boyfriends, yes it was wrong, but fortunately this thread isn't about cheating on boyfriends so we can get back to that later. So I'm at Jackson's place, we're messing around and then his body just starts shaking.

"What happened?"

"I just came..."

"But I didn't even put my dick in yet..."

He wasn't even jerking off or nothing, it was the strangest thing. I should have been a little tight about that because I really did wanna fuck that day but I took solace in the fact that I must have been the mothafuckin' man. I made the nigga nutt and I hardly touched him.

There was this other guy, lets call him Daniel. Daniel was I guess was what you'd consider a vers-top. I had my reservations but he wanted me to fuck him. He said he hadn't taken dick in a long time and that something about me just wanted to make him do it. He was fine too, so I agreed to fuck him. After some foreplay, him sucking my dick, me eating his ass, some bump and grind, etc., he laid on his back while I slid it in real slow. He was kinda tight but taking it okay, well actually better than okay. As I went in deeper and deeper he started to get real excited, moaning and shit and then he grabbed for his dick. As I'm just getting all the way in, hitting rock bottom and pulling back to stroke he came. Kinda hoping that maybe even though he came he could take a little more dick I reluctantly asked:

"You want me to take it out?"

"Yeah"

He answered with his face all screwed up, cactus syndrome had already sat in. So i slowly pulled out, flung the condom to the floor laid back and stroked my cactus until I came. I ain't gon lie, this time I was a little tight. Being inside him was feeling all good and then it's suddenly snatched away. Damn! Damn, me and this good dick!

Finally there was Ralph. Me and Ralph had tried to have sex before but I just was not fitting in. Ralph, who was also not used to taking dick, was tight, tighter than a baby tee on Dolly Parton, just tight. After not seeing each other for a while I chilled again with Ralph. I could tell from when I was eating him out that Ralphie was a little more open than before, not too much, but a little more. He says that I'm the only one who's ever been close to being inside him. I didn't believe that shit but all that mattered was that I was there right then about to hit it.

I tried to enter him from behind and it wasn't really working. So then he laid on his back and I tried it that way. Finally after all this time I was getting in. As I slid in deeper he began to moan and grab for his dick, just then I flung his hand away from it as I tried to slip in deeper. As soon as I got back into concentrating on what I was doing I felt his body shaking and it was a wrap. He came. I only got half of my dick inside and he came. What the fuck?

Now I was heated. I tried my best to stay cool, I mean, I know it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help it, but it wasn't working. The aggravation in my face must have started to show. I pulled out, flung the condom and laid on my back, jerking my dick begrudgingly until I came. After a few minutes I got over my unsatisfaction and at the end of the day I was glad to have satisfied him and I know I pretty much insured that I was gonna be able to hit it again but damn. Now I know how my female readers feel.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"One Minute Man (video version)" feat. Ludacris and Trina
Missy Elliott
from the album "Miss E... So Addictive"
==========

PS: This is totally sidebar, but you bottoms out there who don't cum or don't think it's necessary to cum during or as a result of sex, what's with that? I don't get it. Y'all need to enjoy sex too dammit!

I wrote this blog post not to long ago about how it seems that lately all the guys that rejected me and played me seemed to all be crawling back all of a sudden. Well, like everything else in life this theory works both ways.

I met this guy online two years ago around Christmastime, let's call him Thomas. He was fine as hell, my type too, petite, pretty face, slim body and a phat ass. He even let me beat on the first date (which unlike a lot of guys is something I like and makes me want the dude more, especially if I'm into him). Things seemed to be perfect, until he told me that he was only in New York for a few weeks and was going back to school. I tried to squeeze in as much time as I could with him while he was here but he kept breaking dates. I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE THAT! I liked him but at that point I became disinterested and as the time loomed for him to go back to school and I knew much better than to try to even attempt a long distance relationship even though that seemed like what he wanted to do. So like a true faggot I just stopped calling him and I stopped answering his many phone calls.

That next summer, school was out again and I'd see him around the neighborhood. He was still fine as hell and as much as I wanted to talk to him I avoided him like the plague. Whenever I saw him coming toward me I'd look away or if I saw him walking in front of me I'd slow my pace down as not to pass him. After seeing him again I felt really foolish about what I'd done, but I guess not foolish enough to stop being a pussy and go up to him to rectify things. I was in a relationship at that time so it wasn't even about trying to get back with him, but I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to apologize, especially since I hate it so much when dudes do that kinda shit to me. The better part of me knew that that was the right thing to do but I let the worst part of me rationalize my way out of it. I mean like, what if he would he would have gotten mad or even worse didn't even remember me anymore? So I remained a coward all that summer.

Fast forward to a few months ago. I saw him at an out-of-town even I attended with friends. It was one of those meetings where you're walking, talking looking in one direction and your friend says "Hey, Adam this is so-and-so..." and without having time to brace yourself, you look over and there he is, was, Thomas. Awkward pause, detached half hug, awkward salutations exchanged and then you move on. During the course of that day and due to the fact that we were trapped at the same event we exchanged a few more words. I braced myself for the question of "Adam, why did you stop calling me?" as though it were the French Revolution and I was waiting for the ax to fall. My fear wasn't so much the question, but that I, the blogger, the writer, the person who always has something to say would have absolutely nothing to say to answer this question. It was stupid, there was no reason for me to just up and stop calling him the way I did. I could have just been a man and told him how I felt. And now he looks good, really good and he's probably not even at that school anymore and maybe if I'd played my cards right we could have rekindled something. I was horny as hell that weekend too and I surely wouldn't have minded him kindling my log.

Fast forward to Sunday, June 29th, 2008, NYC Pride. I ran into Thomas on the corner of West 4th Street & 6th Avenue right by Washington Mutual Bank. Thomas was on his phone. I scribbled my phone number on one of my birthday flyers we were passing out that night and motioned for him to call me as I continued up the street. 'Dammit! I shoulda got his number!' I thought as I walked away. A part of me wanted to go back down the block but then I would have looked real stupid and thirsty so I went on.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. One night as I was on my way downtown to do some promotion at a club for my birthday party I ran into Thomas on the subway platform. We exchanged salutations and a few moments of small talk as the train approached the station. Unfortunately, we'd only be riding this train together one stop so I didn't really see it befitting to give my sorrowful apology right then. Before he got off the train I got his number but it didn't mean too much because he had just lost his phone. Damn.

That next week I was walking up the street approaching a club where I was going to do some more promotion that night when right outside I run into Thomas. He was talking on a cell phone which I later found out wasn't his, he was just borrowing it for the evening. The conversation seemed serious, like a family matter or something. He acknowledged my presence as he stood there talking on the phone in one ear and his finger in another. So I walked away from him, going to converse with friends. A few minutes later I looked over in his direction and he was gone.

Later that night inside the club. I looked over to the bar at one of the go-go boys. He had a slim, petite, bangin' ass body covered by only on a white jock strap that hugged his ass just right. I wouldn't usually be into jock straps as they remind me of bad 70's black and white porno movies but it worked for him. I was getting hypnotized as he shook, grinded, and writhed to the music. The go-go boy turned around and I saw that it was Thomas. Oh shit. I didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

To be continued...

==========
Playing In The Background...
"If I Could"
by Dru Hill
from the album "Dru World Order"
==========

==========
I know this post may seem a little too top/bottom-male/female-role-centric for some of you. But I'm a top who has pretty much exclusively dated bottoms so this is all I know.

Enjoy.
==========

"...Pussy is power/Lemme school you girl/Don't get up off it 'til he move you girl/Let no playin' nigga rule ya world/And screw you girl/I got 'em hatin' me/Throws the pussy down/Keep 'em chasin' me/Basically..."
  -Foxy Brown
 from the song "I Can't"

"The power of the p-u-s-s-y/That's why every motherfucka in the world dress fly/Every baller that can afford it, they cop the best ride/For the power of the p-u-s-s-y.../I know this girl we call her Sweet Cooch Brown/Hands down, mami had the bombest pussy in town/One dip in the girl pool, that's all it took/One sample of the snapple, and ya ass was whupped/Have you buyin' Gucci sandals, matchin' pocket books/Blowin' up her beeper ringin' her phone off the hook..."
  -Jay-Z
 from the song "P-U-S-S-Y"

In all of my dating experience, relationship to relationship, person to person, there's something, a place, this thing, this point, that I have inevitably run into with almost every single person I've been involved with. So we're arguing, we disagree, I'm doing or am planning to do something that you don't want me to do. In a last ditch effort to get your way you say "Well, if you do that I'm not giving you no ass..."

If I had a dime for every time I heard that one I'd be blogging from a triplex penthouse condo downtown somewhere. So you're gonna use sex, well in this case the lack thereof, as a method of manipulation to get your way, like dude are you serious? We're not Ward & June Cleaver, Mike & Carol Brady, Cliff & Clair Huxtable here. This is not the 50's, this is 2008 my dude. The ol' "close up shop" withholding sex number doesn't work for us, like, hello, we're gay and as beautiful as you are and as many designer bags as you may carry, you're still not a woman and as much as I don't get fucked I'm still not a straight man. Actually that shit probably doesn't even work as well on straight dudes anymore. For this to work the dude you try this on would have to be just so wack and desperate and have like no confidence in himself and that's so not me. I mean come on, you think I'm just supposed to give in to whatever you say because I so desperately must have your ass that I'm willing to sacrifice however it is I feel. Like that's just supposed to shut me down, stop me in my tracks, suddenly change my mind. I don't think so. You been listening to way too many Foxy Brown songs. It's not even about getting it from somewhere else, of course we know that's always an available option, but I'd rather turn my back to you and beat off my own dick and still be faithful rather than sacrifice my dignity. Because at that point if you can just throw your ass up as insurance for my compliance to your whims or simply for the sake of winning an argument, I don't even want it anymore. You can have it. I'm good.

As you've read this tactic is basically wasted on me. I've heard it so many times that it's funny to me now. I think it's really tacky, and immature to throw sex into an argument like that, especially if the argument isn't even about sex. I guess when someone does that they expect the argument to go like this:

"I wanna go to the museum..."

"Nah, let's catch a movie..."

"I wanna go to THE MUSEUM!"

"I said I wanna catch A MOVIE!"

"Fine, we'll see your dumb ass movie but you ain't gettin' no ass tonight..."

"Aight baby, I'm sorry let's go to the museum."

The argument with me would go a little differently:

"I wanna go to the museum..."

"Nah, let's catch a movie..."

"I wanna go to THE MUSEUM!"

"I said I wanna catch A MOVIE!"

"Fine, we'll see your dumb ass movie but you ain't gettin' no ass tonight..."

"Oh word, it's like that? Yo, you don't even gotta come with me nowhere. Go to your museum. I'm good."

"Fine."

"Aight."

See, both of us going our separate ways, angry at each other leaving ourselves open for anything to happen. As nice a guy as I am I probably would have given in and suffered through the museum had he not thrown the sex thing up in my face. After that I was mad and thought 'fuck it.'

The thing that makes me so angry about this whole thing is that it reduces me, the top to some type of animal or something. Like I'm stupid or something? Like all I'm about is sex and that's what the whole relationship is about. It also makes me feel as though the sex we are having isn't authentic. I believe that sex should be equally enjoyable for both the parties involved. If you feel like sex is just a faucet you can turn on and off at any whim, like it's not something you need from me then what's the point? Half the fun of sex is to be desired. Nobody wants to have sex with someone who doesn't want to have sex with them. Assertions like this really make me question the relationship. I have yet to say to someone "Fine then, if you don't do XYZ, then you ain't gettin' no more dick!" Why? Because that's retarded, why would I bring our sex life into an unrelated subject? Relationship sex should be a special moment for that couple, something that only they share, not something to be stored up as collateral just in case of a rainy relationship day.

So, bottoms of the world and I guess tops too, all men, women too, next time you and your partner get into an argument and you feel the words at the tip of your tongue, stop yourself, okay. There are much better ways to win an argument. And besides, yes, we aren't Ward & June Cleaver, Mike & Carol Brady or Cliff & Clair Huxtable, but you may be setting yourself up to be like Bill & Hillary Clinton. You know how the old saying goes "What you won't do, your sister will." Think about it. The power is not in the pussy or the ass or in the dick for that matter and your ability to withhold it from your partner. The power is in communication and the lack of it can fuck up the whole relationship.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"I Can't" feat. Total
by Foxy Brown
from the album "Chyna Doll"
and
"P-U-S-S-Y" feat. Devin The Dude
by Jay-Z & R. Kelly
from the album "Best Of Both Worlds"
==========

I'm a top, a full top. Most of my friends are bottoms or vers-bottoms or versatile. Basically, they like penis in some capacity or another, I don't. I'd rather not even give head. Word on the street is that there's a top shortage. A lot of my friends have been burned by that guy, you know the one that says he's a masculine top and sells them the whole thug, trade boy thing only to find out he's getting fucked by someone else or voguing in a dress and pumps all over YouTube (that's a true story). Not that voguing in a dress and pumps all over YouTube automatically makes you a bottom, or gay even, because it obviously doesn't, oddly enough, a good portion of transsexuals and fem queens are tops, but it's just not the kinda thing my bottom friends are into.

I always thought that in gay society that everyone would want to be a top. In some ways I guess it's a little easier, right? I mean, you don't have to deal with all that preparation and stuff, you know that stuff y'all do. And as a top you're in control, at least sexually. You're the aggressor, right? Either way, I think it's great. Some of my bottom friends don't think so. One of them told me that the idea of "messin with a boy's butt" is nasty. I guess that's more for me.

I love everything about being a top. I like ass. I like lean bodies, smooth skin and pretty faces. I like dudes that are a little on the fem side. Not too crazy with it, like with make up and stuff but lemme put it this way, I definitely like a guy who people can tell is gay, you know the fashionable, Vuitton bag carrying kind, the total opposite of me. Most of the guys I've dated are stylists, dancers, and models. That's who I'm most attracted to. I know tops who are looking for the illusive super-masculine bottom. I personally think that that shit is non-existent. Any top that's out looking for a super-thug bottom, you know the guy who they walk down the street with and not get clocked is gonna eventually end up getting fucked, but that's just my opinion. We're all gay and a little femininity here and there is just a part of the deal.

Sex as a top is great. I love having sex with bottoms, even more than vers dudes or dudes who are tops that think I'm just so sexy that they just wanna quote-unquote "bottom only just for me" (if I had a quarter for every time I heard that line...) I love to lay a dude down, to be deep inside him, to feel him surrender to me, to feel his body tense up and relax all around me, to hear him moan my name, call me "Daddy", yell expletives, and tell me how good this dick is, to hold him in place and long stroke him into face contorting, pillow and headboard grabbing, uncontrollable ecstasy as our bodies writhe together. I don't understand how anybody could want to deny themselves of all that pleasure. I'm thankful for it though, 'cuz we can't all be tops. I mean there are the versatile people who get the best of both worlds but they're evil and I don't trust they asses. Pick a side dammit! LOL But as wonderful as sex is for me as a top, sex with me as a bottom must be great well at least that's they tell me.

So how am I so sure of my top status? How can I so confidently assert my position? Well, I lost my virginity as a top. Yup, I been fuckin' since day one. But some may say, well you can't knock the whole bottom thing until you've tried it, right? Well I've tried it. I've been fucked about ten times in my life, every time ending unsuccessfully. All accept for twice it's been with some really nice boyfriend that I tried to "compromise" for usually after coming down from a heartbreak in a previous relationship (I soooo don't play that game anymore.) Ten may seem like a lot to some people but that's merely a drop in the bucket compared to the times I've fucked. I stopped counting that number years ago. There's a big counter in Times Square that does that for me. (I'm kidding about that by the way.) LOL

I remember the first time I took the plunge and decided to try getting fucked. I was young and curious, curious because all the guys I fucked seemed to be having such a good time. I wanted to join in the fun, to see what the fuss was all about. I found this guy on the internet. He was really good looking. I figured that if I was gonna do this it should be with someone I don't know so they can never throw it in my face. So I met him and he did it. I was lying on my back, it was missionary position. He was really into it, literally. Face all screwed up, tellin me how good it felt. I wasn't. The best way to describe the experience would be to say it was like Whitney Houston's sex scene in "Waiting To Exhale" ("...grrr huh?" Exactly.) I was there but I wasn't. It didn't feel as though I was having sex, it felt like sex was happening to me. Sex should not be something that happens to you. It was like "The Color Purple", "mista was on top of me doin' his business..." It didn't really hurt, it didn't not hurt, it just didn't, and it wasn't. I remember calling the guy later that night just to talk and he didn't even remember who I was. That's when I really realized that this bottom thing was so not for me.

Well I guess you'd say, well you didn't like it Adam because it was your first time and you didn't know the guy and he played you. I wouldn't say that either. I remember an ex-boyfriend I had. He was so good to me and I loved him so much. He treated me better than anyone else ever has (in fact he still holds the record) but he was not a bottom. I figured hey, what's getting poked every once in a while to give for being treated like a king? I remember avoiding that penis like the plague. I faked sleep so many times and after a while just straight up avoided sex altogether. I didn't even want to fuck him anymore because I knew that the subject of fucking me was gonna come up. There was this one night when I just said fuck it, I'ma just do it, throw caution to the wind and my legs up in the air and please my man. He would try to open my legs and do his whole top thing and it repulsed me, the man I loved repulsed the shit outta me. He finally got it in and upon looking at my contorted face, a mixture of pain, disgust, and nigga-just-get-this-over-with-ishness he stopped, looked me in my eyes and said: "You really don't like this do you?" I told him "No." We tried to work around it, threesomes, foursomes and such, all that mess, until we, well, I couldn't keep up the charade anymore. I more than anyone knows the value of a good bottom. He deserved someone that fully enjoyed him sexually. I thought it was unfair that I got to fuck him and then carelessly send him off to fuck other people. It never bothered me that he fucked other people, as long as he wasn't giving them the ass, in fact the shit was my idea. I figured that way he'd stop whining to me about it. And I mean, that's no way to be, especially if you say you love someone. Months after our breakup he confessed that trying to fuck me was like pulling teeth and not enjoyable for him either. This same sentiment was expressed by the other boyfriends I tried to bottom for. He also said that he didn't believe that there was a such thing as a total top until he met me.

Even the sex industry is feeling the effect. I have a friend who runs a porn site and he says that even he has a hard time finding tops for his films. Most of his applicants want to bottom. As of late he's taken the drastic measure of distributing literature at gay clubs calling specifically for tops for his films, offering them top dollar (forgive the pun, I couldn't help myself) to fuck his harem of willing bottoms on camera. The top well has gotten so dry that at times he's had to come out of his retirement and fuck on some of his own films. He's asked me to appear in his films a few times, so has FlavaMen and of course I declined.

So there you have it. I'm a top. There's nothing wrong with being a bottom. It's great, it's just not for me. I even gave it a try, ten of them and I still didn't like it. The thought of it... just not for me. While it's great for me that less guys are tops than bottoms because that leaves me more to choose from it's still something that I'm concerned with, well not really concerned with, that's not the proper term, worried about, that's not right either, well, whatever, however I feel about it doesn't occupy too much of my thoughts 'cuz I'm too busy fucking to care.

For more of my penis avoidance hi jinx, check out my Online Dating Horror Story #4.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Trading Places"
by Usher
from the album "Here I Stand"
and
"Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?"
by Paula Cole
from the album "This Fire"
==========

Shortly after that text message exchange Earl and I talked briefly on the phone. He totally shrugged off the whole situation saying that it was a "stupid reason to break up". I responded asking the question "Oh, so my feelings are stupid, right?" He totally didn't get it. Not only did he not get it, he was arrogant and condescending about not getting it, like I'm crazy or something. Like he could just do whatever he wanted and I just had to accept it... really? I knew what had to be done.

He totally wasn't seeing that this argument wasn't about sex. It ceased being about sex long ago. It was bigger than sex. If I really wanted to just go out and get me some ass, I'd do just that. This argument was about being unfilled in a relationship with another person and that person not giving a fuck about my feelings. It was about how we were having great sex in the beginning and then how it just stopped. It was about how I felt that he wasn't telling me the whole truth. It was about laying in his bed rejected and horny. Many of you commented on the first post saying that he may have been hiding an STD or cheating and one of you said that maybe I was just a bad lover. If that's so he deserves an Academy award for faking it. Even though all those thoughts crossed my mind I can't accuse him of any of that stuff, but even with that, I just wanted to know the whole truth and the whole "I'm just not a sexual person" razmatazz just wasn't cutting it. This argument was really about the anxiety I felt knowing that a major part of our budding relationship was all of a sudden flawed and not getting a straight answer as to why and on top of that being looked at like I'm the one with the problem for asking the question.

Slightly pissed, befuddled, and bewildered at the fact that he still just wasn't getting it I marched over to Earl's home to pick up my leather jacket from his closet and break things off with him. I was done. By his tone I inferred that he must have thought that my coming over there was my way of giving in to him. Like, what kinda weak ass dude does he think I am? Boy, did he have a surprise coming.

In the spirit of my anger I blasted the Dixie Chicks "Not Ready To Make Nice" (one of only three country songs ever made that I like) on repeat all the way to his apartment. I stepped in the door and remained there. He wrapped his arms around me to hug me and I just stood there. Then he proceeded to make light of my anger. I asked for my jacket, took my shopping cart that I left over there after the day we went to the supermarket together and I left. We could have talked it out but I was done talking. All I'd been doing was talking and he'd obviously made up his mind not to listen. I'd had enough and him using the word "stupid" in the same sentence as something I was dead serious about was the last straw. He was officially buggin'. On the way out he asked "Oh it's like that, you breaking up with me?" as he swept the pieces of his cracked face back together and up from the floor. I answered "Yes." He replied "Oh aight, Later man." like he didn't care and I guess he didn't, oh well. Man, isn't it funny how when you argue with a boyfriend you all of a sudden go from "baby" to "man". There isn't a feeling much colder then when your baby calls you "man", like you're just another man on the street. Like the time you spent together didn't matter, I guess it didn't, so, later back to you man.

A little later that man texted me, apologizing. I didn't answer. He texted me again. I didn't answer again. He called me. I answered. I calmly reiterated my stance. I told him that he doesn't have to have sex with me, that's totally okay, I'm no rapist, I'm no necrophiliac. Thankfully I'm not a person who's ever lacked in available people to have sex with. He alluded to us working things out but the damage was already done. I didn't even wanna have sex with him anymore. i didn't want to work things out. If I had to break up with him to get him to listen to me I didn't need him. I was over it. Like I said, this argument had been stopped being about sex. He made light of my serious feelings and disrespectful shit like that I'm just not gonna take. I feel what the fuck I motherfuckin' feel for a motherfuckin' reason and I'll be damned if I sit around and let anyone make light of that shit. You don't have to agree but you could at least hear me out. That dude must have lost his damn mind. I told him that it's best that we just be friends.

A part of me wondered why he acted the way he did. Why he just refused to see things my way, where was the blockage, where was the disconnect? I begged, I pleaded, I talked, I texted. Well, it doesn't really matter now 'cuz it's over. So, lovely Puritans, just in case you were still riding around on your high horse, long dresses and lacy bertha collars flowing, proclaiming that sex isn't important to a relationship, I'm here to let you know that it is, but what's even more important is respecting your partner's feelings. That is if you want to keep that partner.

Just in case you're totally lost and missed part one of this blog post, check it out and catch up here.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Not Ready To Make Nice"
by the Dixie Chicks
from the album "Taking The Long Way"
and
"Damages"
by Cherish
from the album "The Truth"
==========