I believe that everything and everybody comes into your life for a reason and a season, and that all things, good and bad have some type of purpose, however trivial or indiscernible, but a purpose nevertheless.

That brings me to Steven. A while back I met a guy, lets call him Steven. Steven was my type, short, thin build, beautiful face and a ridiculous body, thin and toned, just like I like it, a pretty boy, sexy as hell. I met Steven out one day on a fluke, out somewhere where I didn't even plan to be and he was just there. We had a few drinks, we ended up talking, flirting, the attraction was definitely there. Then he began to talk about his boyfriend, how they were having problems and were about to break up. How his boyfriend was cheating and how as of late it'd become disrespectfully apparent.

I mean, you know how it is when you're bitching to someone else about how wack your boyfriend is. Not only are you trying to convey how bad he is to them, but deep down inside you're still trying to convince yourself that you should leave him alone when you know that there's a part of you that still loves him in spite of what he's done. So yeah, it was basically that. He was flirting with me while talking shit about his boyfriend, but most importantly flirting with me... hard. He kept talking about seriously breaking things off with his boyfriend on a slant toward trying to start something with me. Yeah, right. That was obviously the liquor talking. But he was sexy, and I was single and horny, so I went along with it. Fuck it.

See, two years ago, I may have fallen for that whole thing, the whole I'ma leave my triflin' ass boyfriend for a better man like you bullshit. Back then I may have listened to it, I may have even allowed the misguided glimmer of hope to enter my mind that I could get with this fine-ass dude just like that. I felt bad for him hearing his story and yeah I was definitely a better man and yeah I could've definitely treated Steven better than his man was treating him,. His dude was crazy for cheating on him like that, Steven was fine, he seemed pretty nice, he was a cool dude, and did I mention that Steven was fine. But being the smarter person I am now I realized that I was only hearing one side of the story and at the end of the day I didn't even know this nigga like that. Now, don't get me wrong, on some regular shit, if we were both unattached, I could definitely pull this nigga if we were like in a club or out on the street or something, but under these circumstances, no. I'm so not trying to get involved in all of his relationship drama. The best I could hope for with Steven was a roll in the hay and that'd be that.

Eventually, after a few days and a few messages exchanged back and forth Steven and I met and well... I fucked him. And it was good, damn good, everything I'd imagined it to be and then some. There's no better feeling than to finally be able to stick your hard throbbing dick inside of the object of your desire and watch as he enjoys every millisecond of it, each stroke and thrust taking him to higher heights and deeper depths of illicit ecstasy, to watch his beautiful head and juicy lips bob up and down on your pulsating dick, to have all your recent masturbation fantasies fulfilled all at once.

He came while I was still inside of him and once I pulled out to cum all over him I leaned down and whispered in his ear "I already know I fuck you better than ya man. It's okay you don't have to admit it." and smiled slyly, as he smiled back in agreement we looked into eachother's eyes and we connected. I liked him and I believed he genuinely like me too, in fact he told me that as we were getting all cleaned up. He told me that he wanted to see me again and implied that I should be patient with him while he straightened things out with his man. As fast as Steven was feeding me these lines I'm shook them all off in cynical disbelief, not even for a second allowing them to latch onto my psyche. Who the fuck does this nigga think I am, Monica Lewinsky or somebody? Fuck outta here. I've been down this road before and it's not a scenic one. The saddest thing about it was that he was actually believing the things that he was saying.

As the days went by I would still hear from Steven, albeit less, with much less urgency. In an effort not to allow myself to get caught up I wouldn't be so quick to reply to his messages, even as they were fewer and further between. One day we finally talked on the phone and I was really honest with him about how I felt about him. I told him that he was cool and I liked him and that the sex was great but I thought that that was all it should be. Maybe if the timing were different it could have been more than that. I continued explaining that though what his man was doing was wrong that what we did was wrong as well and since we were lucky enough not to get caught that we probably should just leave things where they were, why test fate? We could enjoy our night for what it was and hold on to the memory. He then agreed and went on to tell me that he got back with his boyfriend the night before.

See kids, the moral of the story is this. As nice as I am and as great a lay as I was, Steven didn't really want me. Oh no, Steven wanted to get even. Steven's rendezvous with me put him and his man on the same level. You can't really sit around crying and bitching about what a horrible cheater your boyfriend is when you're doing the same shit. Once the fucking was over and the nutts were busted I'd imagine that Steven was able to put himself in his boyfriend's shoes and in rationalizing his wrongdoing he found a way in which to rationalize his boyfriend's transgressions. So in a way we both got what we wanted. I wanted to fuck him, he wanted me to fuck him and he also wanted to find a way to feel better about him and his boyfriend's situation. Everybody wins. Of course, I wouldn't get the chance to get to know Steven better but I was smart enough not to expect that in the first place. no matter how good my dick was.

The idea that one night of good sex could be enough to bring someone out of a relationship is ridiculous. I learned from past experience to never get caught in with a nigga who's dealing with relationship drama. As much as he may tell you that he likes you and wants to get with you, given whatever drama he's in, he truly doesn't know what the hell he wants. I always say, as fly as you may be, as good as you may be, you could look better, dress better, fuck better, and just all around be better, but the one thing you can never fuck with is the past. If someone is in something and they've been in it for a while it's gonna take them a while to move on to someone else, that is if they even decide to move on to somebody else. You can't compete with the past, with all those memories and shit, and until that person is ready to let go of the past there's nothing you can do. As much as I would have like to have gotten to know Steven, the timing was off. I mean hey, there's always the future right? Given the statistics and the law of averages where gay male relationships are concerned there's a good possibility that there will be a time where me and Steven will both be single at the same time and we could possible get together the right way.

In the end I don't regret me and Steven's night together. The sex was good and in some strange way it seems to have contributed to Steven and his boyfriend staying together. Hey, I do what I can.

Today, Steven and and his boyfriend are still together and Steven and I haven't communicated since.

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Playing In The Background...
"Timing"
by Jaguar Wright
from the album "Divorcing Neo 2 Marry Soul"
and
"Next Lifetime"
by Erykah Badu
from the album "Baduizm"
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===========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 08:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

O, wretched dick of mine The trouble thou has put me in
O, wretched dick of mine How thou hast caused me to sin...

Last night I did something I hadn't done in a while, I went out to a club. I've never really been one to go out to the clubs much, I'm actually much more of a homebody, believe it or not, but a good friend was having a thing and I like, had to go so I went. Me walking into a crowded club is like a soldier walking onto a mine field, both of us having to tread lightly. So many reminders of my checkered past, the mistakes I've made, the wrongs I've done, so many faces not to look directly into. I've been here before, but it's different now, mostly because I'm different, I'm a little older. I'm not perfect, but I've learned from my mistakes.

I saw an old friend, let's call him Tom, I mean we weren't like, bff's or nothin' but we were pretty cool about two years ago. That is until I messed around with his ex-boyfriend, we'll call him Eric, like two days after they broke up. Yeah, it was fucked up, but at the time it was what I wanted and Eric wanted it too, so I did it. I rationalized my actions by reminding myself of how I knew that Tom used to chronically cheat on Eric, to the point of ridiculousness and honestly I kinda felt bad for the kid, I mean in all actuality, Tom deserved the shit, but he didn't deserve it from me. And at the end of the day, who am I to dole out the punishments of karma? I'm not God. I rationalized even further by thinking to myself that Tom probably would have done the same thing to me too if given the opportunity, and there's no doubt he would have, but that still doesn't make it right. Me and Tom socialize in different circles, but we still have quite a few mutual friends. Upon seeing him it's like we went into the awkward dance around each other. We both saw each other and knew that each other were there, we were standing next to one another at one point, yet no salutations were exchanged. Being the pretty confrontational person that I am there is nothing worse than this. I hate the awkward dance. Being the one that was wrong of course it was my place to make the first move toward reconciliation. Unfortunately a crowded club is the absolute worst place to do such a thing. What am I supposed to do, yell "HEY TOM! I'M SO SORRY FOR MESSING AROUND ERIC LIKE I DID. IT WAS REALLY FUCKED UP!" as he speakers blare "Birthday Sex"? It's just not an environment conducive to communication of that depth. And at the end of the day, you know, what's "sorry" gonna do? It ain't gon' take back a thing. I mean, Tom can never trust me again. I've been in the same situation, in Tom's place, having worn similar, but more fashionable, shoes and I'd never trust that ex-friend either. I guess the damage is done.

Then there's the one night stands and the fuck-and-never-call-backs. Some may say, 'Oh that Adam, he's been in more manholes that Con Edison' or 'Oh, that Adam, you need to watch him'. And I mean, hey those people, they're right. There was definitely a sluttier time in my life, I can't say that I was the sluttiest, there are people that certainly have me beat, but I'm no angel. Last night I saw this guy I met who's personality wasn't really all of that to me, he was actually kind of annoying, but he had a really phat ass and I just wanted to fuck him, so I did and then I was over it and I never called him back. Then there was this other guy that I thought was okay, then my friend who had messed around with him too said that he was gross, so after fucking him twice I stopped calling him too. It's just like damn, what the fuck do you say to these people? I really kinda wanted to walk up to these three people who I'd wronged and say "I'm sorry" But, can you really just do that or do we do what we always do, move on and awkwardly cut people from our lives making our social circles and chance interactions more and more cantankerous by the day?

Ultimately, all of these situations have come out of simply thinking with my dick. When we're horny and just wanna fuck we will just do any and everything to get what it is we want with no thought of the future, and whose feelings we hurt. That dude with the phat ass, like, I schemed for that shit, putting all the right pieces into place just so I could hit that. That was so fucked up. I look back at it all and realize that none of it was truly worth it and having been a person who's been hurt before it really tears at my heart to know that I could have possibly hurt someone else. Everything bad thing we do in life has it's own set of counterbalancing consequences so consequentially I can pretty much look forward to a few more awkward club nights in the future.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"So Good"
by Electrik Red
from the album
"How To Be A Lady, Vol. 1"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

My favorite brand of jeans are Levis. I know that they're no frills, not as fancy as Paper Denim, Rock & Republic, and Antik Denim, but they're an American classic, like me. The other day I was on XTube.com  (only 'cuz Nubian101.com was too slow) looking for videos, trying to get my porn fix for the day when I ran across this strange video a guy peeing. Now I know all about golden showers and was even asked to perform one on somebody in a bathtub once (which I didn't) and the whole idea behind that is to pee on someone else, and believe it or not, i get that, but the idea of this video I saw was to sit there, camera pointed to your crotch and pee on yourself. It's called jean pissing and upon futher investigation I found that Levis 501 jeans were the attire of choice for this sort of thing.

As I watched the video of the man sitting there relieving himself, the small spot of wetness in his crotch growing from puddle to ocean-like proportions, turning his jeans a darker hue of blue, I wondered to myself, what the hell do people see in this? There's no jerking off, there's no nudity, just a guy wetting himself. There are old people who do this sorta thing everyday and I'm sure that nurses of the world don't get off on it... or do they? There were comments on some of the videos saying stuff like "I love the feeling of warm piss in my jeans" and stuff like that, but if you love the feeling of warm liquid so much, take a bath. It's nothing to fuck up a good pair of jeans over.

Not to judge or nothin', although this is way too freaky for me, it seems the freakiest thing about this and all things that are fetishized I guess is how non-sexual they can be in nature and how people seem to find a way to sexualize them.

In the interest of keeping things relatively clean I will not embed the video here but I will post the link. Check out the video and let me know if it moved you. 

Click here to view the video

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Playing In the Background...
"Queen Bitch Pt 2"
by Lil' Kim
from the album "Notorious K.I.M."
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 06:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

It's almost 2am and I'm just finished my nightly ritual of watching porn on Nubian101 and jerking off before bed. In my video of choice tonight I noticed that the bottom was yet another ex date of mine. Damn, another one, another one bites the dust. That brings my tally up to six now. I wrote a blog post about this a little over a month ago when I discovered the fifth person and now this the sixth, this is crazy.

This one though, was different than the other five. Me and him never had sex. In fact, when I was trying to hit it like two years ago he was on some 'Oh I don't get down like that! I don't give it up quick like that!' shit and he stopped calling me. Now I see him getting the life fucked out of him by some porn dude and he could suck a mean dick too. Go figure. Just this past summer he'd got back in contact with me and was trying to get close to me again and I kept brushing his ass off. If I was so inclined I probably coulda beat, scratch that, I know I coulda beat. Dudes, they say one thing out of one hole and do something else with the other. Ain't that some shit?

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Racey Lacey"
by Girls Aloud
from the album "Chemistry"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
Welcome to yet another "Ask Adam..." blog post. Where readers of the blog send me their life, love, sex, relationship and other pressing questions. I'll do my best to answer and advise them here on the blog and other readers will be able to weigh in too.

Enjoy.

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to possibly be shared here or just wanna say "Hi." click here to send me an email. And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.
==========

No matter how slutty we are or how slutty people say or think we are, everybody's got boundaries, some things they just will not do. Some women, take it up the ass like a champ, but will only save the cooch for marriage or vice versa. Some gay men will suck all the dicks in the world, but won't get fucked until they find "the one". There was a time when I fucked damn near everybody, but would not give head unless I was really into and dating a guy and even then it was light, shit, I'm still like that, sans the fucking everybody part of course. Today's reader letter is from someone in a situation similar to mine, he doesn't wanna just give head to every Tom, Harry, and Dick's dick but isn't sure how to express that to his sex partners, especially once he's already received head. Let's jump right into it.

Hey there, Adam!

So I have to get oral for a hot minute! I know that giving head isn't really your forte, but I have a question: How exactly do I explain to a guy that I really don't like doing it after they ALREADY gave me a blowjob?

Here's the thing... I don't really mind sucking dick... I suppose it's OK, but unless I'm really REALLY feeling the guy I don't automatically jump to sucking.

What often happens is that I hook up with a guy and he swoops down HELLA fast and starts going at it. When he comes up for air, he's then waiting for me to reciprocate. Don't get me WRONG... I LOVES the dick!! I love everything about it! I will jack it off, spoon with it, whatever (I don't wanna get too explicit... haha); but I'm just not a fan of having the dick all up in my mouth.

Does this make me a greedy bastard for not returning the favor? Should I just SUCK IT UP and do it?

**sighs**

I know you'll have a clever answer for me!

Hope all is well...

Sincerely,
Not aHEAD Of The Game

First off I want to say wow NAOTG, you just know that I'll have a clever answer for you, huh? I mean, oh my gosh, do you know what kind of stress that puts me under? I'm kidding, but thanks for the vote of confidence.

As far as your question is concerned, like the wars in the Middle East, and most other horrible conflicts between human beings throughout history your issue comes as a result of a lack of communication and a bit of selfishness on your part. For me being a top and having dealt for the most part strictly with bottoms, there isn't much pre-sex parameter conversation I've had to have. We both come into the game pretty much knowing what we like to do, but if there are any deviations from the script we discuss those before anything pops off.

NOATG, at the surface yours is quite a simple problem. If you uttered a simple, "Ayyo, nah son I don't really give head all quick like that." or an "Ooh daddy I don't suck no dude's dick I just met all quick like that, you gotta marry me first." or a "Miss Honey, I don't see it to munch your bird tonight, it's no shade." you know, however you talk, then your whole problem is avoided. I think, scratch that, I know that the issue is more about you not wanting to say that you aren't gonna suck his dick out of the fear that you won't get your dick sucked and that sir is dishonest, deceitful, and just not nice. In your words, yes you are "a greedy bastard" and you know it. He ain't moving that damn fast!

My advice to you would be to just be honest with the guys you're hooking up with. Yes it very well may be a deal breaker at times, but that's the chance you take when you want something done to you and are completely unwilling to reciprocate it. I've had many guys walk away from me because I wanted to fuck them and wouldn't let them fuck me and you know what, that's okay. Those guys just weren't the ones for me. So if you want to continue seeing the same type of guys you've been seeing you may have to compromise a little on the head thing. You'll be surprised though, there are plenty of guys who are not into getting their dick sucked (I'm not one of them, but they're out there). Only thing is that most of those guys are probably full bottoms and I'm no clairvoyant or anything, but I don't get a top vibe from you.

My even greater piece of advice to you NOATG is to find a guy and actually get to know him so that you can 'really feel him' as you say and you guys could both suck eachother's dicks happily ever after.

-Adam

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to possibly be shared here or just wanna say "Hi." click here to send me an email. And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Head"
by Prince
from the album "Dirty Mind"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

A few years ago I met this guy online, let's call him Thomas. Thomas and I talked online for a while, exchanging pleasantries, being flirtatious, being sexual. We exchanged numbers and continued to talk every so often. One sunny afternoon out of the blue Thomas calls me and says that him and his friend are in my area and that I should be outside in fifteen minutes. I told him that I would need more time than that to get ready. I was meeting him in person for the first time and I wanted to make a good impression. He insisted that it wasn't necessary and that he had only just thrown himself together so there was no need for me to do anything extravagant. I jumped up and tried my best to get somewhat ready in such a minimal time.

After having them outside waiting in the back of my building for about about fifteen minutes, fifteen more than the fifteen I was originally supposed to be ready in, I got to the car. Thomas stepped out of the passengers seat of the car onto the cracked sidewalk, we shook hands. He was attractive, cute even, he looked better than his pictures and he was definitely right about not being put together. He had on an old ratty looking t-shirt, some sweats and some flip flops. As messed up as his outfit was it took nothing away from his looks though. Upon entering the car I greeted his friend as well. Thomas looked back, smiled and asked me why I was so well put together. He reiterated the fact that he said over the phone that I didn't have to do anything special. Then he asked me was that why I was took so long. I have to admit I was a little embarrassed, but it was cool though. His queries were all in fun.

We drove around for a while as Thomas' friend was running various local errands. During the ride I was pretty much silent in the backseat. I was just passively listening to their conversation and watching their dynamic. I like to watch friends, especially best friends, interact with each other, there's nothing like it. These two were definitely best friends. Every so often they would look back at me just to make sure I was still alive.

We ended up going back to Thomas' friend's apartment. His apartment was very nicely decorated. You could tell that a gay man lived there. After sitting on the couch a while Thomas declared that he was taking a shower. As he walked toward the bathroom he grabbed my hand and I followed him. We got into the bathroom and as soon as the door closed behind us we grabbed at each other like animals, kissing, fondling and grabbing at each other ravenously. We eventually got out of our clothes and made it to the shower where our foreplay continued, hot and heavy in the steam of the running water. Right when I was about to enter him he stopped me.

"Adam, stop. I can't do this..."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't do this..."

"Why?"

"I'm positive."

I couldn't breathe. I stood naked with my back up against the moist tiled wall, my head spinning like a centrifuge. Here I was about to fuck this dude with no condom (as most people don't exactly keep them on the soap dish). What was so crazy was that I pretty much knew I was gonna get some that day and I had condoms and lube on me in my jacket. I just never bothered to go get them. It would have ruined the mood and the spontaneity of the moment. In all this time I never even bothered to ask what his status was. It never even came up in all of our prior conversation. This was the first time in all of my fucking around that I was confronted with HIV. I never really talked about it much before. I knew my status, I'd been tested, but I never really discussed it much with my partners. He continued.

"I want to. I really want to but. I had to let you know. You're such a nice guy."

"Wow, how did this happen?"

In retrospect I see what a dumb ass question that was for me to ask, but I asked anyway. He proceeded to tell me that he pretty much knew who he contracted the virus from and that he tried to confront that person but the person moved to another state and changed their phone number. He said that his best friend, the one in the living room was one of the only people who knew. With a little sass in his voice he also said:

"Oh, and don't think that I'm the only one. If you're out here fucking around I know I'm not the first person who you've run into who has the virus. I'm just the first to tell you."

With sex, but a distant memory, we finished our shower, in silence. I wasn't angry, or scared, or disgusted by him or anything like that. I knew better, I knew the facts, I knew that HIV wasn't just gonna jump on me just because I was in the shower with him. I wasn't necessarily done with him either, he was a really cool person and HIV wasn't gonna change that. I was just sober, soberly thinking about all the fucking around I'd done, all the possibilities, how fucked up that person was who infected Thomas and just ran away and how Thomas didn't even have to tell me about his status, it's not as though I asked. I also wondered exactly why he told me. It was all just so crazy, he was so young, so good looking, he didn't look sick, he wasn't in a hospice with tubes running out of his body. He was nothing like I imagined HIV to be, he was like, like me.

We dried off and went back into the living room the friend was sitting on the couch like nothing happened. I guess from his perspective nothing did happen. He wasn't in the shower. We got dressed and ended up back in the friend's car. As we drove around I sat in the back of the car in uncertainty until Thomas asked:

"What train station do you wanna be dropped off at?"

They dropped me off at the train station. We said our goodbyes and I never heard from Thomas again. The scariest thing about that story had nothing to do with Thomas but everything to do with me. I totally let sex cloud my better judgment that day. I knew so much better than to do what I was gonna do but almost did it anyway. He had to be the one to stop me from protecting ME. How sick is that? Not being able to trust yourself to do what you know is best for yourself, that's scarier than anything else that happens on Halloween.

I remember sharing this story with my one of best friends about a year after it happened. We were sitting in the Village talking about life and the virus and it's effect on our community. We also talked about the 46% statistic, which now I heard is up to 48%. I told him that with statistics like that it's like it's either me or you now. Any one of us is can be one test away from a positive result. That's one of the reasons why I am never one to judge. We can get tested and we can take all of the necessary precautions and not be promiscuous of course but if you've ever been sexually active there's never any way to be 100% sure. Your test can come back negative today and show up positive a few months from now as HIV can lie dormant in your system before there is enough antibodies of it to be detected by a test.

I'm no doctor and you can always look up the facts from a much more reliable medical source than me but the point I wanted to convey here was that we all need to make better decisions. We also need not judge anyone, especially those with HIV because none of us are exempt. I have friends today with HIV and I love them, respect them, and treat them as I would any other friend and they are all fine, healthy, dating and living their lives as they should be. At times in the midst of all of our fun and day to day living I forget that they even have the virus. They have to remind me at times and that's the way it should be. It's not something I need to dwell on. HIV, as unfortunate as it is is not a death sentence.

Thomas was the first person I ever met with HIV and as dumb as it sounds today, back then I really was shocked at how healthy and quote-unquote "normal" he looked. My experience with Thomas taught me how important it is to be nice to people, all people and to have an aura of openness about myself so people could feel comfortable telling me anything. I actually wish that Thomas would have kept up with me. I tried to correspond with him after that but to no avail. I don't fully understand why he never wanted to talk to me again but I respect his decision. I never got a chance to thank him for that day in the shower. He taught me more than all the sex education classes in the world could have taught me and I'm different today because of it.

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Playing In The Background...
"It's O.K."
by BeBe & CeCe Winans
from the album: "BeBe & CeCe Winans Greatest Hits"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

So I'm on BGC earlier and I responded to a message. As the sent message confirmation page came up I glanced at the porn ad on the page and I was shocked to see yet another person I know doing porn. That brings the number of porn stars I've slept with up to five. Damn.

Why? Why did he do it? Was it for the money? Or is he just an exhibitionist freak like that? I hope it wasn't just for the money. Because I know for a fact that black gay porn acting does not generate much money, unless you're in such high demand that you're doing movies all the time and even with that you aren't making all that much money. No more than a really high end professional like a lawyer or a heart surgeon or something like that would make and that's on the exceptionally, exceptionally, exceptionally high end of black gay porn. And is even that kind of money worth all the mental stress, the stress on your body, your life, your relationships, and your reputation? Not to mention that a good portion of your earnings will go to all the liquor and drugs you'll probably be using to maintain such a taxing lifestyle. Why do think half of these niggas dicks can't get hard in porn? What good is a twelve inch dick if the shit can't get hard?

I know someone who owns a porn production company, I'm sure some of my porn connoisseurs out there have seen his stuff. He's sat and told me, cracking up laughing, about how he's gotten guys to fuck and be fucked in some of his movies for as little as fifty or twenty-five dollars and at times even for free! On the high end he won't pay any of his actors, even some of the better known ones more than a couple hundred bucks for a scene. And royalties? What royalties? This ain't network TV.

The only people who seem to make the real money in black gay porn are the studios. The life of the average black gay porn star, at least from what I've seen is far removed from the lifestyles of people like Jenna Jameson, Heather Hunter, and even Jake Steed. First of all we're talking gay here, gay porn by virtue of us being a sexual minority (at least that we know of) probably wouldn't generate as much interest and money as straight porn and black gay porn, a minority within a minority, I'm sure puts further restraints on things, probably further stifling possible earnings. I'd bet that most of these guys we see in these porn films have more than likely fell on some type of hard times to even consider doing it. Of course I'm sure that there are exceptions to all of this, but every black gay porn star I've met is hardly rich or extremely happy with their career choice.

I'll be damned if I ma fuck on camera for a measly couple hundred bucks! Awww hayell naw! But people do it, why? I'd love to ask that guy I know, what made him do that shit? If his parents saw that shit, they'd die.

Don't get me wrong, even with all I've stated, I personally have nothing against porn. I even watch it at times. My issue with porn isn't so much the morality, but the money, well the lack thereof that concerns me. I'm so shocked that these people don't get paid more, they damn sure deserve it. But at the end of the day, it's an industry with adults over 18 who in sound mind have signed on the dotted line for whatever it is they get. It just ain't for me. I know we're in an economic crisis right now and times are hard, but they ain't that hard, at least I hope they aren't.

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Playing In The Background...
"Porno Star"
by Joe Budden
from the album "Joe Budden"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

So I'm online on one of the dating sites minding my own business when this guy hits me up. This guy hits me up like every day with the same gross message and every day I ignore him. First of all he's like 37. Even though I'm not into older guys, especially ones that much older than me, I set them to a higher standard, because they're older. I expect more from them in the ways of couth and conduct. There's a certain way that an 18 year-old, a 25 year-old and a 37 year-old will step to someone he's interested in and they're all different. Usually I would ignore this guy as I'd been doing, but he just didn't seem to be getting the hint and I wanted to nip this in the bud. So here we go and as always I have my sidebar comments thrown in:

37yo: come over man...I want to suck you off

Sidebar: That's no way for no one, not to mention a 37 year old to greet anyone. How gross? As much as I like sex and as sexual as I am on this blog I have yet to initially greet someone online or off by saying something like "Yo shawty, I wanna fuck you." And I don't respond well to greetings like that. Like how many other dudes have you greeted like that today? Yuk! Believe it or not I'm becoming more prudent as I get older. I know, it's hard for me to believe too.

Me: U must not have read my page, ur way too old for me.

37yo: oh come on man...I look great, nice body etc! not old looking or anything

Sidebar: Y'all, please don't ever do this. If someone online has made it clear that they aren't interested in you please move on. Don't try to state your case to them, it's so unattractive and beneath you. You are wonderful and if someone can't appreciate that, fuck 'em. Even if the person is me, fuck me too (not literally LOL). There are people who I've hit up online and are obviously not feeling me and I let it go. I wouldn't have let it get this far. If I hit you and you don't hit me back I get the message. This shit is what internet stalkers are made of.

Me: Why are you debating this with me? That alone is unattractive. I'm someone who is telling you that he doesn't want you to suck his dick. If you are as great looking as you say you are then there should be a bevy of other willing and eligible dicks that you can suck on. Mine is just not one of them. It's like dude, move on, have some dignity.

Sidebar: Okay, I probably could have phrased that a little better, but after having him hit me up on the same shit for the past several days. I was annoyed.

37yo: honestly, do you want to debate with me? I am not pleading a cause with you dude! so Dude, its not like honestly move on!!! you made a statement and I responded, I am not begging or pleading, cause just this reaction tells me lots about you....and your very selected requirement is a great peak into your insecurities little guy! So dont start, and dont act like you are any more than the piece of meat that you are! I have never made a claim that I am so good looking that I am a must get.....you on the other hand seem to think you deserve exclusivity....makes me wonder why not go to the under 18 websites....?? Since you aren't ready to play with adults!!?

**yawns** All that from the guy who wants to suck MY dick? Really?

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Playing In The Background...
"The Greatest Love Of All"
by Whitney Houston
from the album "Whitney Houston"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

Yes, hello all. My name is Adam Benjamin Irby and I am a big ol' bottom. I love dick, oh how I love dick so much. My life isn't complete unless I am sitting on a dick. In fact I am sitting on one one right now right now, oh yeah, that's right big daddy, that's the stuff.

Are you bitches fucking happy now?

I swear some of you people make me so fucking sick I could hurl.

It's been repeatedly brought to my attention that some of you have taken issue with the fact that I mention that I'm a top on my blog. Some have even gone as far as to say that I say that I excessively say that I'm a top because I'm trying to convince myself of it, like I have an issue with being a bottom, like I'm some kind of closet bottom or something. The wildest and most outrageous of the allegations is the suggestion that I have some kind of contempt for bottoms. That's the shit that makes me mad. This whole matter has to be the dumbest shit I have ever fucking read.

Lemme break this down: I fucking write fucking a fucking blog in which a considerable portion of it is about, guess what, fucking. Anal penetrative gay male sex to be exact. And when one is engaging in anal penetrative gay male sex with another gay male, one participant in that sexual act is known as the bottom, the penetrated partner and the other as the top, the penetrating partner. Do we understand that?

Are you still with me or am I moving too fast for you. Actually let's take a breather and let that sink in. If you need to go back and read the last paragraph over again... Alright, you ready? Let's proceed.

This is deep, now follow me on this, I don't wanna lose you now. So if when I have sex my preference and standard practice is to be the penetrating partner, that would make me a what? Don't all yell out at once, raise your hands, yes girl in the back of the room... Yes I would be a TOP.

If I write a blog post talking about sex, describing what I'm doing during sex, penetrating my partner, my role would be that of a what? Don't all yell out at once. A TOP. Bingo.

So I am a man who during sex prefers to penetrate other men with my penis and looks for partners who enjoy being penetrated. Most people would describe me as what? A TOP. By George I think you got it!

Now whether you personally think that I'm a top doesn't concern me at all, you can think I'm a bottom all day long, start a rumor, and email chain if you will. I don't give a fuck, I'm not fucking you, what's it to you? I only fuck with people who can read anyway and some of y'all obviously can't! If I were a bottom I'd have no problem saying it. I'd be the best dick riding-est, dick taking-est, bad-ass bottom motherfucker y'all ever seen and I'd talk about the shit on here with just as much candor and explicitness as I do right now being a top. Being called a bottom, or just plain ol' being a bottom isn't a bad thing or an insult. In fact I'd love to read a blog by someone who's a straight up full bottom who is as explicit as I am. I'd love to get the viewpoint from the other side. If you know of a blog like that let me know.

I even wrote a blog post about a time in which I bottomed (read that post here). How the fuck do y'all think I know that the shit is not for me? Y'all know I'm a freak. I had to try the shit out first. I didn't just pull this whole "I'm a top" shit outta my ass (forgive the pun), like what the fuck? So to answer the question, have I ever been fucked before? Yes. Did I like it? No. Is there anything wrong with being a bottom? No. I also wrote a blog post where I talk about how much I love bottoms (click her to read). This is ridiculous.

I'm sure some of y'all still stuck on that masculine/feminine bullshit may look at me with my silver baseball caps and airbrushed pictures on my banner and say "Oh that bitch is too cunt to be a full top." You think that shit bothers me? Hell no. Have I ever had problems getting ass when I want it? No. I know me, I see me, I don't think I'm feminine. I'm your average, everyday homo. I like Britney Spears and "Sex And The City" just like the next fag. Do I switch when I walk? No. But I like guys who do.

The only reason why I would say that I'm a top all the time is because I talk about sex all the time and when I have sex my position is what? TOP. You fucking idiots!

The overall issue here is not my saying that I'm a top. The problem is that you have an issue with whatever it is you do. Maybe you have an issue being a bottom? As for me, I'm good.

So you're probably wondering why this whole issue annoys me so much and gets me so mad. It's not because people may think I'm a bottom or that I'm scared that people will think that I'm a bottom or even that people think that I'm some kind of undercover bottom. I don't care about that. I don't give fuck what people think as far as that's concerned. I know what's going down in my bedroom. What makes me mad is the fact that someone would think that I have a problem with bottoms, a good portion of my friends and virtually all of my romantic partners are bottoms. Like hello, there are no tops without bottoms. I love bottoms.

Top, bottom, versatile, whatever, we're all gay men, no one is no better or worse or gayer than the other, this is bullshit. In a time where there are still motherfuckers who read my shit that still have a problem even telling people that they're gay you (I took a motherfuckin poll to prove it, look at it here) people are throwing stones at me for being an out and proud gay male who says that he's a top. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. But really, what kinda stupid, fucking asinine, ludicrous-ass bullshit is that?

Think about it.

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Playing In The Background...
"Trading Places"
by Usher
from the album "Here I Stand"
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Addendum: I realize that this blog post was a lot, a lotta cussin', a lotta sarcasm and it may have even been perceived as angry. I'm actually not so much angry as I am annoyed by it all. That whole thing actually kinda blindsided me. As I stated I was offended by the fact that here I am a very out and proud gay black man getting all this static for saying that I'm a top while it's gay dudes out here trying to front on the DL. That is crazy to me.

People who've been around for a minute who know how I am read stuff like that and say 'Oh that's just Adam, he just needed to get something off his lil' bird chest.' (LOL) Either way the post wasn't meant to offend anyone who didn't need to be offended and if it did offend you, take a moment to look inside and ask yourself, why?

As always, I enjoy all of your comments, positive or negative and whether you agree with me or not I'm all about the discussion.

((Muah))
-Adam

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 06:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

Now I have done some mildly freaky shit in my life, but for the most part I'm pretty traditional about mine, that's my choice. But writing this blog, hearing from you all and being exposed to all different kinds of people and all different kinds of things has made me pretty open and non-judgmental. I've basically seen and heard it all, if not live, most certainly on the internet, so at this point nothing really surprises me. I'm pretty much the "If you like it I love it as long as you're not hurting anybody" type of guy. But every once in a while something will come along that will make even me raise an eyebrow.

Someone just sent me this message online:

"What up son. I got a wyld fetish for dudes that SNORE when they be sleep. If you smoke or drink, dont deny that shyt- you snore. dont be embarressed cuz I like snoring. Im about to be real with you: Im tryna make you nutt in your sleep "ON THE PHONE" while you snoring. Be honest and real about your snoring cuz the louder you snore- the better that shyt is yo. I know it sounds weird but its sexi as hell!!! If you snore and this phone shyt sound good, hit me back wit a message letting me know how bad you snore. If you not feeling this, let me know so I can let you fall back and you wont get messaged again. This is no joke and im very serious- trust me, you go be feeling this shyt when I do it! Make sure you hit me back son. open yo pix if they locked. *if you got fuked up feet or you feminine, do not respond - just put me on block*"

A snoring fetish. What the fuck?

That's a new one.

Too freaky for me.

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Playing In The Background...
"Can We"
by SWV
from the album "Release Some Tension"
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PS: I don't snore anyway.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

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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
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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.

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Playing In The Background...
"Dirty Mind"
by Prince
from the album "Dirty Mind"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

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.

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Playing In The Background...
"Save The World"
by Girlicious
from the album "Girlicious"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

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?

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Playing In The Background...
"Epiphany"
by Jill Scott
from the album " The Real Thing: Words And Sounds Vol. 3"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

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?

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Playing In The Background...
"Till The End Of The World"
by Michelle Williams
from the album "Unexpected"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

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

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Playing In The Background...
"Exclusively"
by Jill Scott
from the album "Words And Sounds, Volume 1"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

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!

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

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"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
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"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

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"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

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"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 06:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I am so sick of you Puritanical bitches running around here trying to discount the importance of sex in a relationship. If I hear another homo run that tired ass "I don't this relationship to be all about sex" line I'm going to throw the fuck up. A relationship shouldn't be all about any one thing but sex is certainly an important factor. In order for a relationship to work it's important for the parties to be sexually compatible, top, bottom, versatile, man, woman, once a day, once a week, once a year, etc.

So, I've been dating this guy for a little while now, we'll call him Earl Eunuch. When I met Earl I was instantly into him, he was really good looking, light skinned, light eyes, freckles (I like freckles), you know my type. In the beginning everything was great, we talked for hours, we spent time together, we went places, we cuddled, the sex was great, everything was all good.

As things progressed and we decided to become exclusive all of a sudden the sex stopped. I'd be there at his house, horny and ready and all of a sudden he'd start refusing me. One night in particular he was on the phone and I was there laying in bed with him, playing with him sexually, touching, kissing and licking the right spots, making it hard for him to talk. He motioned for me to stop and I did and I laid there... and fell asleep there, no sex that night. Then there were other nights filled with "Oh, I'm tired...", "Oh, I don't feel like it...", "Oh, I gotta wake up early for work in the morning...", "Oh, this..." and "Oh, that..." What about the weekends you ask? There was always something, "This one is in town..." or "I promised this friend I was going to hang out..." I was becoming increasingly horny and increasingly annoyed and now increasingly suspicious. How come he'd become such the sexual camel all of a sudden, intercourse so few and far between? We used to have sex when he was trying to hook me, now he's got me and things are different. Call me old school, but I've always adhered to the Jones Girls "You Gonna Make Me Love Somebody Else" philosophy in situations like these, "...if you ain't lovin' me. I wanna know who in the world you lovin'?" i mean he used to enjoy sex, all of a sudden now he's never in the mood anymore and with him being so damn busy lately, what the hell else am I supposed to think?

In an argument this revelation comes out, Earl says: "I'm, I'm just not a sexual person". Like what in the pigeon fuck does that shit mean? Just because you want to be a deceptive undercover eunuch doesn't mean I'm supposed to suffer. I don't think so. Then in another argument he said: "Well the last time we had sex I didn't want to but I did it anyway..." WHAT! And what am I supposed to do after hearing that shit, give a round of applause, a standing ovation perhaps? How was that shit supposed to make me feel? Nobody likes to feel like the person they care about is only having sex with them out of duty, at least I don't. I'm no rapist, I'm no necrophiliac. Half the pleasure of sex is being desired, who wants to have sex with someone who doesn't desire them? Needless to say, laying next to him horny, while he sleeps was not making me the happiest or most fulfilled camper. He fed me the whole "I don't wanna have a relationship based on sex" bullshit ass bullshit line and I fell for it. I figured I'd hold on until things got better.

Honestly, I really didn't understand why he was being this way? Was he not attracted to me anymore? Did he have another dude he'd rather fuck around with? If so, why even deal with me? Why have me around? Why invite me to your crib if all we gon' do is lay next to each other like brothers? All I wanted was some ass at least twice a week, maybe with a little head thrown in somewhere. A week or week and a half shouldn't pass with absolutely no sexual contact. That's crazy! It's not like we've been together for 20 years or something. I mean, you have a good dude, who's tryna be there for you, we spend time together, we go places, we laugh, we cuddle, all that shit, all you gotta do is hit the nigga off twice a week, why is that so difficult? I should not be laying in Earl's bed masturbating, not if I'm supposed to be with him. that's crazy! I would never do that shit to him. I like him, I really do and even though I didn't quite understand I've been real patient.

Yesterday was the last straw. I'm going to Washington D.C. today to see Derrick's movie. He's known this all week. I would like to have seen him and possibly had sex before my trip especially since it's a Friday night and he doesn't have to work tomorrow, so no excuses, right? I'm gonna let the text massages tell the story:

Friday:

11:39a
Adam: Hey...

11:40a
Earl: Hey baby

11:47a
Adam: Am I gonna see you tonite, u know I'm goin to DC tomorrow. And you know we haven't had sex in a minute...

12:00p
Earl: I can see u but my cousin comin' in town and he only stayin 2night

12:01p
Adam: Don't worry about it

12:10p
Earl: Baby

12:24p
Earl: I miss u baby

12:29p
Earl: Baby

12:40p
Earl: What time u comin?

6:22p
Adam: I'm not coming. Have fun.

6:25p
Adam: I'm really feeling like this (me) is not what u really want.

7:32p
Earl: Baby u are. Why are u saying this?

7:36p
Earl: Nothing I do makes you happy, I try and try. I want u in my life.

7:39p
Adam: Try what? U sure as hell don't try to have sex w me...

7:43p
Earl: Why is it always about sex. I normally don't have sex til after a month of dating but it was something about you, I want you.

7:44p
Adam: It's always about sex because that's where we have a problem. if u wanted to have sex with me regularly I'd be fine.

7:48p
Earl: Baby u know how I've been feeling

7:51p:
Adam: And you know how I always feel. I care about u so I'ma just be str8 real with u. I can't be in a relationship where I'm not getting sex on the reg. W/o sex we can just be friends cuz if I'm not getting it at home I'ma get it somewhere else.

7:53p
Earl: Are u really breaking up with me? :(

7:55p
Adam: No. 'm just letting u know that if it's impossible for you to have sex with me on the reg then:
A. We'll have to break up
or
B. U'll have to accept that I will be having sex with other people in your stead.
Your decision...

7:57p
Earl: I can't believe u saying this.

8:01p
Adam: I'm just being real. U've been asking me why I seem upset, that's why. I've been holding that in for a while. I've been very patient but now I'm tired. I've asked and damn near begged you and now I'm at my breaking point. I've been there for you now it's time for you to be there for me. So what u gonna do?

8:01p
Earl: Are we in a relationship or are we just fuck buddies?

8:02p
Adam: In order to be fuck buddies we'd have to be fucking...

8:03p:
Earl: Come to my house

8:03p:
Adam: For what? Aren't you busy tonight?

8:04p:
Earl: We always fighting about sex.

8:10p
Adam: We wouldn't be fighting if we just had sex regularly, that's all I ask. I'm tired of laying in your bed horny while u turn over and fall asleep on me, but that's neither here nor there. The real deal is this, for some reason u don't wanna have sex with me and that's fine, there's plenty of other people that do. But there's no reason for us to waste each other's time. U want a relationship with a dickless man who likes to cuddle and do whatever you want him to do and is devoid of sexual desire while I want a relationship with a dude who wants to give me some ass on the reg. I'm not tryna change u Earl, but I'm just letting u know that I will not continue like this. I'm feeling very unfulfilled and I shouldn't feel that way.

To Be Continued...

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Red Blooded Woman"
by Kylie Minogue
from the album "Body Language"
and
"Questions"
by Tamia
from the album "More"
and
"You Gonna Make Me Love Somebody Else"
by The Jones Girls
from the album "The Best Of The Jones Girls"
and
"Why Am I Lonely"
by Chante Moore
from the album "Exposed"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

"Step by step. Day by day.
A fresh start over. A different hand to play.
The deeper we fall, the stronger we stay
And we'll be better the second time around..."
-from the "Step By Step" TV show theme song

Everything's going great between me and Pubby, we're spending a lot of time together and every day is beautiful. We've talked things out, we've let go of the past and we're concentrating on our future and just plain having a good time. I couldn't ask for anything more. We're making it better the fourth time around, I think this is the fourth time, or is it the third.

Last week Pubby called me, asking me how I felt about sharing joint custody of a dog, having it live between his house and mine, like our child. As you know I have a cat, Keisha, who I've had for about eight years now, but owning a cat as opposed to owning a dog is a horse of another color. My viewpoint on dogs was basically that of the standard cat person. Generally, cat people think dogs are loud, stupid, needy, and have no personality or mind of their own, panting about, eating their own vomit like idiots. As he talked to me, filled with so much passion and excitement at the prospect of getting this dog all I could think about is how much responsibility a dog is. Cats are generally independent, dogs need you. You can't just leave a dog home for a day or two with an extra bowl of food and water like a cat. You have to walk a dog, even if it's freezing cold outside, which it often is here in New York. Even with all of my cautious opposition he was not swayed. So, being the supportive man I am, I agreed to help out with "our baby", hoping we weren't making a huge mistake.

Easter Sunday night we picked up the dog, a Yorkshire terrier puppy by the name of Bella. She was cute but nevertheless a dog. Pubby made sure she was extra cute by buying her all kinds of bows and pink cutesy shit, I'm like dude, she's a dog. He made sure that she had the quote-unquote "best" food, made of all kinds of nasty organic shit, fucking wheat and cranberries and shit. It smelled like death in a paper bag. Bella wouldn't touch the stuff and who could blame her. I tried to tell Pubby that at the end of the day under all the bows and clothes that Bella is an animal, animals like meat and her food should smell like and contain some type of meat, like Keisha's food.

Tuesday was Bella's first night at my place. It was also the first time she was meeting her stepsister Keisha. Let's just say Bella and Keisha aren't best buddies. The stoic nature of an eight year old cat and the playfulness of a puppy her same size don't quite mix. I haven't heard Keisha hiss so much in all her life. It's so much that they're fighting, there's really no contact as they both scare the hell out of each other. Our uniting reminds me of the TV show "Step By Step". I'm like Patrick Duffy's character with the laid back children and Pubby's like Suzanne Somers character with the uptight, prissy children, coming together to make a family.

With all this stuff going on, between me working and Pubby working and us having our animal children, training puppies, petting cats and shit, like true new parents, Pubby and I haven't had much quote-unquote "us" time. Time to, well, you know, have sex. So we decided after putting it off over and over again for the past week, not due to lack of desire, but just plain ol' being tired, that we would finally have sex yesterday morning. So we did and it was great, as usual. Sex with Pubby is always great. I know what he likes and he knows what I like but we also know how to mix it up just right so it's not predictable. We switched positions in the middle of sex so as usual before I went back at it (literally, wink, wink) I slipped on a new condom and quickly disposed of the first one.

After he came we laid on my bed, I on top of him, basking in the post coital glow, in silence, when I heard a chewing sound, like somebody was chewing on a piece of gum. I looked over to the left and saw Bella licking the floor, then turning toward one of the condoms. One of the condoms! Where the fuck is the other condom?

"Babe, I think Bella ate one of the condoms..."

"She what!"

Yes, Bella ate one of the condoms from the floor. Pubby jumped up frantically, calling the vet while on my laptop Googling our little problem. It turns out that this sort of thing is more common than you'd think as he'd found numerous articles, musings and message board postings on the subject. If she were a bigger dog, under usual circumstances we'd just have to wait for the condom to pass through her system, but because she's only a puppy we'd have to induce vomiting. They recommended that we give her two tablespoons of 3% hydrogen peroxide. As soon as I heard the name of the chemical escape from his lips I put on my pants and like a good husband and father made my way out to the nearest Duane Reade Pharmacy. We gave her the peroxide and she lapped it up like it was a vodka and tonic, drinking like a true lush, she must get that trait from her parents. A few minutes later she threw up the condom and a whole bunch of yellow shit, probably mucus. She's fine. I guess we can't fuck like porn stars anymore, carelessly throwing condoms about. Throughout the whole ordeal Keisha was cutting her shady little eyes at all of us. Under her breath I could almost hear her mumbling "Dumb bitch! I wouldn't have done that shit! I've been around for eight years. I know to steer clear when daddy starts throwing condoms!"

All in all. I surprisingly enjoy having a dog. Although she is way needier than Keisha I do enjoy the fact that she enjoys seeing me and gets excited every time I walk into the room. Keisha on the other hand is really loving sometimes and really shady sometimes, whenever she feels like it, but that's what I love about her. She's still Daddy's baby, they both are, they all are.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Put It In Your Mouth"
by Akinyele
from the album "Put It In Your Mouth - The EP"
==========

==========
Today's Throwback Blog Post:
Did I Ever Tell Y'all The Crack Story...?
Originally posted August 31st, 2007
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
One thing I never, ever claimed to be was an expert as I am very much a work in progress. I'm no dummy though, I know what I know but I've never presented myself as anybody's authority. Nevertheless I must be doing something right because behind the scenes people keep on emailing me asking my for advice and I can only shy away but for so long. So here it is people, you've finally rope-a-doped me into it. I'm about to get all Dan Savage on you now. I'm not sure how all of this is gonna turn out, but however it turns out remember, you asked for it, presenting (dun-da-da-dahhh): Adam's Reluctant Advice Column.

Enjoy.

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to be possibly shared here or just wanna say "Hi." Send it to me via the "send me an email" link on the left column. And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.
==========

A lot of times we can find lovers and boyfriends and girlfriends who are so right in every area, but sometimes there's that one little freaky-deaky little thing that we want that our partners can't, seemingly can't, or won't do for us. The question is is it enough to leave our otherwise wonderful partner for? Should we just secretly fulfill our need somewhere else in an effort to keep the peace? Or maybe we should deny ourselves, grin and bear it and figure out how to do without it? That's the question one of my lovely readers is asking today. Here's his letter:

Dear Adam,
Thumbs up to your blog. Gotta a question for ya, the scenario is this: I am involved with a wonderful guy who satisfies me to the tenth power, he's a bottom with great walls, but sometimes I get this urge to have nutt (semen) shot on my face, which he is not into. This urge can last for days and I just supress it, until it goes away. I have a nutt fetish, it's been like that since my teens and I already know he is not as "freaky" as I am because I gave him a past scenario of that happening to me and his response was "ewwwww". So I knew right away that he ain't down with that. I respect and care about him, but in that one "particular" department it ain't happenin'. I know "dudes" who would do that for me with no strings attached, hell some even have lovers. If I did that does that necessarily mean I don't care about him or don't want to be with him?
-Nutt All Over My Face

The first problem I see with you guys' situation is expressed in this part of your letter

"I already know he is not as "freaky" as I am because I gave him a past scenario of that happening to me and his response was "ewwwww". So I knew right away that he ain't down with that..."

What do you mean, "you already know"? What do you mean "you knew"? Those statements were inferences, you never came straight out and told him how you felt or asked him to participate in this particular sexual act with you. You've gotta give him a chance before you just write him off and go looking to be satisfied elsewhere. I totally understand why his "ewwww" response may have discouraged you, but you must understand that for him and traditionally for a lot of bottoms (I know I'm generalizing here), ejaculating on their partner's face is not necessarily the norm. It's usually seen through porn movies and the stories of our friends as more of a quote-unquote "top behavior" (I know I'm generalizing again). And as human beings we tend to shun that which we don't understand, hence "ewwww". You telling him that story the way you did shows your facial fetish only as a random event of your past instead of something that is deeply woven in your sexual tapestry or repertoire, if you will. Once he sees that this is something that is important to you he may be much more inclined to warm up to it. I'm sure he'd rather be the one jizzing your face than some random stranger.

On the other hand, I must say this though since you mentioned that your partner is a bottom. I'm assuming that your partner is a strict bottom given the context of your letter. As a strict top who deals with mostly strict bottoms I have to say that your facial fetish can be putting yourself on thin ice with your partner. Strict bottoms like strict tops. All the strict bottoms I know do not like dealing with guys that they feel may have versatile tendencies. The idea of the guy that they are letting fuck them, getting fucked or doing anything sexually that's even slightly considered quote-unquote "bottomish" to them is usually grounds for immediate termination. I'm not trying to question your sexual role or anything but most strict tops I know, myself included do not like the idea of some dude nutting in their face (the idea personally grosses me the fuck out). While openness and honesty is excellent and I don't think you should keep this from him, you need to also be cognizant of the fact that this revelation could be the end of things and be okay with that before you tell him. I also noticed the quotation you put the word "dudes" in your letter? Does the emphasis on this word imply that you don't think your man is quote-unquote "man enough" for you? You also asked the question of not necessarily wanting to be with him, asking me whether your having your urge satisfied with other "dudes" means that you don't want to be with him. Does it? You tell me. Are you creating an excuse to leave him? Think about it.

On the third hand (lol) sneaking behind his back is just wrong and as sure as you do it your ass will eventually get caught. Your facial fetish is something that's been with you for years and you continuing to do it on the low sure ain't gon' help it go nowhere, it'll actually only make your craving for it stronger, making your lies and duplicity even stronger and you can't cheat forever, so it's just not a good idea. And at the end of the day you're dealing with cum and the possibility of disease and shit so let's not forget that.

My advice to you would be to evaluate how much you really need for some cum to be on your face. If it's something you can't live without then you need to go to your partner and tell him. Maybe if you break it down for him earnestly he'll be cool with it, you say he loves you, right? Him squirtin' some man juice on your mug every once in a while won't take too much of his "Beyonce, Naomi Campbell walk" time will it? I personally don't think it's too much to ask. If he's not cool with it and is indeed as disgusted with the idea as you think he is, he just may dump you, but that's the risk you'll have to take. Or you can continue to deny it, and hope that it possibly goes away. Or you can buy yourself a water gun, fill it with warm Buckley's cough syrup, or coconut milk and aim away from the eyes, just a suggestion.

Good luck.

-Adam

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to be possibly shared here or just wanna say "Hi." Send it to me via the "send me an email" link on the left column. And of course whatever you send is anonymous, you don't even have to give your name.

==========
Playing in The Background...
"Rolling Down My Face"
by Amerie
from the album "Touch"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

"The sex is just immaculate, from the back I get
Deeper and deeper, help ya reach the,
Climax that your man can't make,
Call him, tell him you'll be home real late..."
  -Notorious BIG
   from the song "One More Chance (remix)"

"How you like it baby? Uhh, from the front,
Uhh, from the back, give that ass a smack,
Bet your man won't do it like that,
Can't work the middle, plus his thing too little..."
  -Diddy
   from the song "No Time" with Lil' Kim

Late one night, two years ago, at two o'clock in the morning I was online IM-ing with this guy, let's call him Anderson. Anderson and I had been talking off and on sparingly via IM and telephone for about a year or so but for whatever reason had never actually met. We'd exchanged pictures and I was definitely attracted to him and I was pretty sure that the feeling was mutual. Our IM conversation that night turned sexual. As things were getting hot and heavy Anderson asked me to come see him. As badly as I wanted him I was having second thoughts due to the fact that it was already 2am and he was about an hour and a half away on the subway, but he was fine, I was horny, I didn't have to work until the afternoon the next day, so I thought, fuck it I'll go and I went.

I was so tired on the train that I missed my transfer stop, dozing in and out of sleep, the things we do for sex. You'd think that after missing my stop that I'd be deterred from my mission. But nope, not at all, common sense be damned, this was a sure thing. I have wanted to fuck this dude ever since the first time I saw him online and dammit we fuckin' tonight.

I finally get to his house and see him for the first time, he's fine, better than he looked in his pictures. I sat on his bed, I got comfortable and we stumbled through awkward small talk until he kissed me, shutting me the fuck up. Then it was on, the clothes somehow came off and I fucked him, longstroking from the back, watching my dick slide in and out of him, talking more shit than a porno movie. "Yeah, you like that?" "What's my name? What's my motherfuckin' name nigga?" "Who's dick is this?" "Who's ass is this?" "Who's ya daddy nigga?" "Is this what the fuck you been wantin' nigga?" "Tell me you love my shit nigga!" "Gimme that ass nigga!" All while he moaned my name, burying his head in his pillows. We ejaculated, we fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later so I could have enough time to get ready for work.

I called him later that day, no answer. The next day, no answer. No answer to my IM's online either. What the fuck? We have sex and now he doesn't wanna talk to me anymore. He's one of those faggots, the ones who can let a nigga fuck them and that's it. Aight, I see how it is. So after a few days I stopped calling, shit, fuck that, I'm not running after him, I already fucked him already so I guess I got I wanted, even though I really wanted to get to know him better. I still wondered why he didn't want to talk to me though, what had I done wrong? Dealing with men has taught me though that sometimes it's just better not to even ask why because you'll drive yourself crazy. I'm a man and I still have yet to figure men out. It's just best to take whatever good there is from a situation, put that in your pocket and move on, for your own sanity.

A few days after I decided not to even think about Anderson anymore and accept the nutt for what it was, he hits me up online, of course, once I'm over it and finally feeling somewhat okay about things, of course. He tried to make small talk and explained his behavior. He proceeded to tell me that he was actually talking to someone else at the time when we had sex and that he and that person were on the eve of becoming more serious. I was basically the last hoorah, the fireman stripper that the bride let fuck her the night before the wedding. He asked me whether we could be friends. I proceeded to cuss his ass out and tell him to never speak to me again. From then on I was hurt, I really liked Anderson. We talked on and off for like a year. I wanted to at least have a chance with him. Why did he do that to me, why did he just use me like that just to sow his last wild oats. Why didn't he tell me what the deal was? And who the fuck was this guy anyway? What made him so special that he could roll over from me and back to him? I know I did I good job in that bedroom, you can't fake that shit. What did he have that I didn't have? I guess him and his dude had a preexisting emotional connection. I just wish he hadn't used me for his cruel relationship experiment and had me get my feelings all involved.

A few months later I went out with a friend, who introduces me to his friend, let's call this friend Wayne. Me my friend and Wayne go to a party. On the way back home my friend falls asleep leaving me and Wayne awake. Wayne starts to talk to me, flirting with me in the most crass, vile and slightly drunkened way possible. There was not a damn thing attractive about Wayne, at least not to me, especially now with him drunk-ish and his breath smelling awful. He's flirting with me and I'm so not interested, yet he persists, fueled by an empty, overly ambitious, mind numbing, class, league, and caste unconscious bravado that only liquor can give. This dude was not only unattractive, disrespectful and inexplicably cocky, he was trying to fuck me. After I finished laughing and let him know that I was a top and that I'm not getting down like that. He let me know that he's on his way to his shorty's house as a segue into finding out where I live, as if I'm gonna tell him. He just doesn't stop. The next day after I told my friend what happened, about how his friend tried to pick me up, he let me know who Wayne's "shorty" was. I was the stripper, Anderson was the bride, and Wayne was the groom. Anderson stopped talking to my for Wayne's sorry ass! Is he serious, yuk! He must have gotten into his whole bad boy-ish, homo thug thing he had going. Whatever, good for them. If he liked it I loved it. By that time I was way over Anderson anyway. I just laughed and kept it moving.

About a week or two later I get an IM from Anderson. By this time I had a new screen name but somehow he found me. He apologized for all that had happened and wanted to make amends with me. I agreed, we exchanged numbers and then he called. He began to tell me about all the problems he was having with Wayne, as he didn't know that I knew who Wayne was yet, and I listened. Later in the convo I admitted that Wayne and I had met. He alluded to the fact that people say that he's too good for Wayne, almost in a way that made him sound ashamed of Wayne. He then asked me what I thought, but I'm way too much of a politician to answer questions like that. Then he told me that sometimes he wishes that he had chosen me over Wayne. I have to admit that statement did bring me some ill-gotten joy. If I were petty I would have told him how Wayne tried to pick me up that night a while back but I didn't, some things are better left unsaid. After that night Anderson and I became friends.

As time went on our friendship became stronger and stronger. We worked not to far from each other so there would some days here and there where we'd have lunch together. The main course served would always be Wayne and his latest caper. About how Wayne would cheat, or lie, or say something fucked up or any combination of the three. I never understood why Anderson let Wayne play him the way he did. Wayne would never let him have any friends. Wayne never liked for him to go anywhere without him. Wayne didn't even know about the lunches we had together. He let Wayne get in his head and totally fuck up his confidence. Anderson would always complain about how he looked, how he couldn't do this, couldn't do that, just negativity all the time. I wanted the old Anderson back.

I told Anderson that I would like to come out to his boyfriend, the two of us being friends, without disclosing our sexual history because at that point I felt totally platonic toward Anderson. My sexual feelings turned into feelings of friendship, brotherhood and now sorrow toward Anderson. I wanted to be able to take him out and have him chill with me and my friends and have some fun and not be stuck in the house waiting on Wayne all the time. I wanted him to see himself as beautiful, like I saw him. He told me that Wayne would never like the idea of us hanging out because I'm a top like he is. He would be afraid of us messing around behind his back.

It's like I knew him but I didn't know him anymore. This was not the person I had talked to and first met over a year ago. He was so empty, it's like Wayne had taken over his mind or something. I remember asking Anderson one day "Does Wayne hit you?" It was crazy, he was like a battered wife or something, a glutton for punishment, but why? Wayne ain't got shit? What was he getting out of this? It baffled me. Seeing someone who I was once so attracted to succumb to this made him so unattractive. Through it all Anderson would still flirt with me and still tell me that he should have chosen me. I would always counter, turning things around, bringing it right back to Wayne, saying things like "Would your husband like it if he heard you talking like that?" and "Does Wayne know you're talking to me?" Anderson would get so mad at me when I did that. But I had to show him how foolish he was.

A few months later Anderson texted me, getting at me hard on the sexual tip. I did my usual Wayne counter but it didn't work that day because Wayne was out of town. So I came over and we talked and I ended up fucking him. I fucked Anderson longer, harder, and rougher that I did the first time and it felt better than the first time. As I fucked Anderson I felt like I was fucking Wayne's sorry ass too. I was hurting him for how he hurt me all the times he hurt my friend, cheating on him, and saying all that fucked up shit, for how he tried to holla at me like I was some fuckin' bird-ass nigga. So yeah Wayne, fuck you, fuck you and now I'm fucking your boyfriend and he's loving it, saying my name, calling me daddy and all that.

After we finished having sex as we were putting our clothes on I was in the mirror, looking at myself, feeling like the motherfucking man when Anderson said to me. "Wow, it's been a long time since I've taken a dick that large. I hope Wayne doesn't notice. I may have to take a bath in some Epsom Salts before he gets back." After I questioned that statement he went on to tell me that Wayne's dick is small, I mean, not really small, but not really big either, but considerably smaller than mine, and smaller than most people would think, given his bravado, swagger, thug appeal, etc. Even I had to admit I thought that the brotha must have been packin', I mean after the bravado he put up when tried to talk to me and the way that he has Anderson's mind all fucked up, I just knew he was tearin' it up in the bedroom. That had to be why Anderson has stayed this long. Anderson went on to tell me that it has even caused problems in their relationship. It's not even that Anderson is dissatisfied with Wayne's size but it's that Wayne is dissatisfied with it himself. He's also super self-conscious about it. That explained a lot Wayne's behavior, the cheating, the belittling of Anderson, he wanted to feel like a "real man", and here's the root of it all, laying bare and exposed before me, to manipulate at my leisure. This made things even more sweet.

That wasn't the end of the sex-capades between me and Anderson, we met again and again once with him sucking my dick, and me fucking him again, we even snuck off and made out in a club bathroom once. Knowing that I could literally satisfy him in ways his man couldn't, hitting spots his man couldn't, was an amazing, euphoric feeling that last way beyond the last cumshot. Looking down at my phone and seeing text messages saying "I need that big ass dick again Daddy..." and hearing him say "He fucked me last night and I closed my eyes wishing it was you..." is an ego boost that can't be described. He had his head, he had his heart, but that ass was mine. Seeing them out together places, having Wayne say "Whaddup?" to me, thinking that we only know each other from the night he tried to talk to me, hoping I don't spill the beans to his boyfriend that he thinks I don't know, not knowing that I've been fucking his boyfriend all along, and even not seeing the sly wink his boyfriend gives to me as we talk, it was wrong. I was wrong, we all were wrong and using each other. Although it wasn't my only intention, I was using Anderson, my friend for sex, an ego boost. Anderson used me to make himself feel desirable and as a way to get back at Wayne, an ego boost, he also used me for sex. Wayne was using Anderson for validation, an ego boost, someone he could treat like shit and would still be there, someone he could pick up and put down at his leisure.

Anderson has never answered my question, what does Wayne have that I don't have? But as I said, sometimes it's just better not to even ask why because you'll drive yourself crazy. At this point I don't even care anymore because I don't want a romantic relationship with Anderson anymore, we're not even messing around anymore. All of this is in the past. I've just taken an evil solace in the fact that any time I look at Wayne for the rest of our lives I'll be able to say that "my dick is bigger than yours."

==========
Playing In The Background...
"One More Chance (remix)"
by Notorious BIG
from the album "Ready To Die"
and
"No Time" feat. Diddy
by Lil' Kim
from the album "Hard Core"
and
"Not Big"
by Lily Allen
from the album "Alright, Still"
and
"Taken"
by Cherish
from the album "Unappreciated"
and
"She Don't Have To Know"
by John Legend
from the album "Get Lifted"
and
"Wish U Was My Girl"
by Babyface
from the album "Face2Face"
==========

Now I realize that that's a very petty and shallow way to be, I totally realize that. It's a terrible thing way to be. But what's interesting to see is that no matter who, what, or how much we have, and how smart and evolved that we say we are, that we as humans, especially male humans that we are all still animals. At the end of the day the most important thing to almost every man, gay or straight is the size of his dick and the validation it gets or doesn't get him. It was important to me, Wayne was obsessed with it and I'm sure it's somewhat important to you.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

I just want to say for the record that I'm not really into threesomes, especially in the context of a relationship. I mean, I've had them, I've experimented, but for the most part they are just not my thing. At one point I, a top was in a relationship with a versatile-top. Although we got along pretty well, sexually it just wasn't working. In an effort to save our relationship we decided to try to incorporate threesomes as a regular part of our sexual practices. I mean it's just sex, right? In the words of Julia Roberts in the movie "Pretty Woman" that was a "big mistake, huge..." Having that extra person there, even though it was supposedly all in the name of sex, created all kinds of tension between us, mistrust, competition, resentment, and even a lack of sexual fulfillment, believe it or not, it was a mess. Not to even mention the third person's feelings, there were situations in which the third person liked one more than the other. Not to mention the possibility of situations where the third person could try to get in contact for a meeting with one partner without the other partner knowing about it. Like I said, just a mess.

Eventually that relationship ended, after a post-relationship rough patch, we're friends now and I realize that that's what we should have been all along. We give each other everything that we were giving before, just sans sex. When we realized that sex was gonna be an issue for us we shouldn't have moved forward. Granted, not moving forward when everything else feels so right is not the easiest thing in the world to do, but I've learned that sometimes sex is a bigger deal than we think it is and we must regard it as such.

I've heard that a lot of older couples use threesomes to bring back the spice into their relationships after years and years of monogamy. I can't really say much on that because I'm not what anyone would consider "older" yet and I have yet to experience years and years of monogamy with anyone. But as a young person I've realized even from my limited experience, that the whole threesome thing should not be introduced as an integral part of a budding relationship. I look at things this way, If you've been together less than a few years, that other person should be more than enough for you. There are too many freaky-deaky two person things to explore to have to be calling in reinforcements so soon. I mean, of course there may be some exceptions to this rule. But if you really think that one person or just that one person isn't enough for you then maybe you just aren't ready for a monogamous relationship with them yet  or ever and that''s perfectly okay. Just be honest, tell your partner, there's no need to string anyone along.

Also, really big, majorly important, never let your partner talk you into doing anything you are not comfortable with, especially threesomes. Never feel like you have to feel like you have to participate in threesomes to quote-unquote "save the relationship". All forcing yourself into something you don't want to do will do is make you harbor resentment toward your partner. If you're gonna participate in a menage a trois it should be something you both enjoy, not your partner's half-assed way of keeping you around but still getting to legally fuck someone else. Everybody should be equally participating, you shouldn't be just standing there, sitting there, laying there, watching your partner go at it with someone else as if you weren't there. All that says is that you probably shouldn't be there. Either way, if you both aren't equally into the threesome thing and are just doing it to "save your relationship" you're just prolonging the inevitable. In that case, walk away while you still can stand each other.

So that's my opinion, but what do you think about the whole idea of threesomes? Vote in the poll below and tell us your opinion in the comments section.

Every week I will update the blog with a new poll question.
Click here to check out all the previous Adam's Web Log Polls.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Threesome"
by Ruff Endz
from the album "Someone To Love You"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm single, and I get lonely sometimes. Lately I've been too busy to notice, but sometimes at night when I'm in bed alone and horny it creeps up on me. Those are the times when I could call an old standby jumpoff or go online and try to score something real quick, but what's that really gonna do? The person will come and I'll fuck them, knowing good and damn well I don't want them, don't like them, and probably wouldn't claim their ass in the street, but I know that  because the person likes me that will let me have my nasty way with them whenever I feel like it. Pity sex, we've all done it. Deep down inside, I know that shit is wrong, so I've refrained. I promised myself, no more pity fucking in 2008. I will not stick my dick inside anyone who I know good and damn well I would never want to see again.

Speaking of single and lonely, I've been back online, back on the dating sites, you know BGC, A4A, M4N. Well, I should say that my account's been online because I haven't physically had the time to log in in a minute. Yesterday I had a whole bunch of work to catch up on on my computer and I decided to leave the sites on the background, checking periodically to see if I got hit up. Ya know, hey, why the hell not? If I'm gonna be stuck working hard on the computer all day I may as well try to see if I could have some company over for when I decide to take a break. There's gotta be another lonely, good-looking, normal, hardworking soul like me out there, right?

Hmmm, well, thankfully I did manage to get a lot of work done, because after being signed on to the sites, running in the background for ten hours, nothing. Absolutely, nothing. Oh, it's not that I didn't get hit up, oh no, it's not that, it's just who I got hit up by that was the problem, same ol', same ol'. I can separate them into their different types:

The ones I'm not attracted to:
Most people who hit me up fall into this category. I'm picky, what can I say? I mean, is what it is, I don't hit them back. That's the unwritten rule of internet dating. If someone hits you up and you're not feeling them, you don't hit them back. No hard feelings. But then there's the people that I'm not attracted to that after I don't hit them back don't seem to get the point and continue to send me messages. Like, what's the point of that?

The creepy white men:
No offense to white men at all, and I'm sure there are many normal white males online out there looking for affection, love you guys, but I'm just being real here. The white men that hit me up online 99.999999% of the time fall into one or both of these two categories. They are either the old ones who hit me up looking to pay for sex, you know the ones who send you messages that say things like "How are you thi$ evening?" and shit like that, like ewwww, how disgusting and creepy is that? Then there are the ones that only get off on my being black and quote-unquote "forbidden" and think that all young urban black males are hung, studly, thugs who exist only to fulfill their creepy desires to be ravaged, smacked around, punished and disrespected by big black dicks. They say shit like "I'd love to drain your big black cock" or "I got some white boy pussy for that big black cock" and 'ol nasty shit like that. I mean, what the fuck happened to hello? Both of those types, the big spender and the 'dick-o-phant' are both creepy as hell. All that stuff's not just confined to white men though, I had an older black guy hit me up asking me to go with him on a ski trip, all expenses paid. Yeah, right?

My fellow top friends:
On my profile it says clear as motherfuckin' day that I'm a top. But some people don't let a little thing like that that stop them from trying to fuck you. They hit you up and say things like "Yo son, if you wasn't a top I would definitely hit that" or "You ain't no top, you look like you need dick in ya life" and the best one yet "Yo son, you need to find a bottom and I'll come and help you dig that out." Like I need some other dude's help and if I did find a bottom I don't want your bum ass slobbering all over him, no thanks. And of course these people are almost always looking a hot ass mess, that is if they even have a picture on their profile, which they they usually don't, and if they do it's a picture of some greasy ass, funny looking dick as if that shit is supposed to impress me and what's even worse is that these losers are usually like 30, hitting me up trying to sound like Fabolous or somebody. Like, get real? I don't even give tops the time of day because I'm not tryna relive Online Dating Horror Story # 4.

People without pics:
I don't even know why they waste their time. This is 2008. There are cameras, web cams, digital cameras, scanners, and camera phones everywhere. There is no reason for any of us not to have pictures in digital format at our disposal, none. They need to take their Quasimodo lookin ass back under the bridge with that shit. Oh yeah, then there's the "You know what I'm sayin' son. I don't put my pics online 'cuz i'm DL" guy, whoopti-fuckin-do, that's even worse. Either way, I don't know why they waste their time.

The miscellaneous weirdos:
There was the guy around my age who hit me up yesterday, not bad looking, but a foot fetishist. He hit me up asking me how I take care of my feet. Wow.

Yeah, some day yesterday was. Now I see why people aren't on the sites so much anymore because there seems to be no more normal attractive people left on there. Maybe I need to leave the shit alone before I get all lumped in among the crazies. I mean, damn, do all the freaks come out online?

After a day of nothing, I was done with my work and decided to relax. At about 8pm this guy hits me up online. He looked pretty good in his pic, but that was the problem. There was only one picture and you know what that probably means. So I gave him my number, he called and the first question I asked him was whether he had anymore pics on like a MySpace page or something. He told me that he didn't have a MySpace. What the fuck did he mean he didn't have a MySpace, my ten year old nephew has a MySpace. There are fucking cats and dogs with MySpace pages, what the bloody hell did he mean, he didn't have a MySpace page? What the fuck? Oh hell no! A million alarms were going off in my head. He wanted to come over and I was having serious doubts about this. In an attempt to soothe my apprehension he uttered the words "Nah, don't worry son, I'm official." That made things worse, my apprehension was even stronger now, especially since that's the same thing Chim Chim Chimney, Online Dating Horror Story #2 said and we know how that turned out.

Before I knew it we were off the phone and he was on his way. Thankfully I only told him what stop to get off on the subway and did not give him my address. I refused to go through another pity date, that could possibly lead to pity sex that I'd feel super shitty about in the morning. I had to stop this. So I sent him a text message about five minutes after we got off the phone. I would have called but I didn't feel like having to explain myself, and besides, just in case he was a whiner I didn't wanna hear him bitch about my decision.

A: "I know this is gonna sound crazy but... don't bother coming. I'm not really confident in ur looks as u only have 1 pic and I wouldn't wanna waste your time. Hopefully this catches you before you leave home."

No Pic Guy: "It's all good."

A: "Thanks. I had to think about that, ya know?"

NPG: "I'm good, you just missed out on a sexy ass nigga."

A: "So you say. It wasn't worth the risk. I'll live. Have yourself a good night. :)"

And there you have it. He probably thought I was weird as hell but he didn't know the type of day I'd had. I don't regret what I did because more than likely, based on experience, Murphy's Law, and the law of averages, he was a hot mess. So I masturbated and once I busted a nut. I was over it. And besides I've had enough Online Dating Horror Stories to last a lifetime, you've read 'em.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"U + Ur Hand"
by Pink
from the album "I'm Not Dead"
and
"Saturday"
by Lil' Mo
from the album "Based On A True Story"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

A few months ago at the taping of my first appearance on Da Doo-Dirty Radio Show I met a lesbian rap duo by the name of Kin (Hey girls!). While they were being interviewed one of them bragged that she was a "gold star" lesbian, that she had never been touched by the penis, the other concurred, lauding her compadre's sentiment. This was the first time I have ever heard this term before.

On January 1st I wrote a blog post about how I spent this past New Year's Eve. I wrote about how I went to a party with a female stripper and how that was the first time I had ever seen a vagina before. Obviously I am also a "gold star" homo as well. Then I ran across a blog yeterday, Finally Seeing G, where he posed the question of whether his readers were "gold star" gays and lesbians. So I guess this "gold star" phenomenon is weeping the nation.

With homos sashaying, bopping, voguing, and duck-walking out of the closet earlier and earlier nowadays, many of us are skipping the whole awkward I-slept-with-women/men-just-to-prove-I was-still-a-man/woman phase. So my question to you my lovely readers is, how many of you are "gold star" homos and lezzies?

Give us your answer in the poll below:

*Penetration by or with genitalia, I don't count oral sex in this poll.

Every week I will update the blog with a new poll question.
Click here to check out all the previous Adam's Web Log Polls.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Like A Virgin"
by Madonna
from the album "Like A Virgin"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
One thing I never, ever claimed to be was an expert as I am very much a work in progress. I'm no dummy though, I know what I know but I've never presented myself as anybody's authority. Nevertheless I must be doing something right because behind the scenes people keep on emailing me asking my for advice and I can only shy away but for so long. So here it is people, you've finally rope-a-doped me into it. I'm about to get all Dan Savage on you now. I'm not sure how all of this is gonna turn out, but however it turns out remember, you asked for it, presenting (dun-da-da-dahhh): Adam's Reluctant Advice Column.

Enjoy.

If you ever want to email me a question, problem or issue to be possibly shared here or just wanna say "Hi." Send it to me via the "send me an email" link on the left column. And of course whatever you send is anonymous you don't even have to give your name.
==========

I received an email from someone yesterday asking me for advice about visiting a bathhouse for the first time. Unfortunately I can't offer any of my brand of wisdom-packed, witty, first hand experience on the subject because I've never been to a bathhouse or even to it's younger, more urban equivalent, the sex party. Yes, there are a few things that even I haven't done, but that doesn't mean that I won't do my best to help this curious reader. Let's read his letter:

Dear Adam,
I have always wanted to but have never gone to a bathhouse. With your sexual experience and knowledge I was wondering if you could give me advice and tips, tell me what to expect and avoid and whether it's a good idea. Do you also have any bathhouse tales of your own to share on the blog?
- Bathhouse Virgin.

Well, like I said I've never been to a quote-unquote "bathhouse", that's mainly because I'm under 35. I've never heard anybody who wasn't pushing or has already knocked down and trampled over 40 use that term, the kids go to sex parties now (no offense to anyone over 40). And even though I don't have first hand experience with sex parties either, I've have been invited to my fair share though, that doesn't mean that I don't have slutty-ass, I mean, more sexually open, friends who have shared their tales with me. And if any of you, my other lovely readers have further advice to offer BHV please leave a comment. You can comment anonymously here, your email address will not be published.

This is my understanding, according to what I've been told, of how a sex party works. Sex parties are usually held in people's homes. The throwers of the parties are usually somewhat selective about the people they let in, selective in terms of body type, looking more favorably upon those who are quote-unquote "in shape". Usually the organizers scour websites such as BGC, A4A, & M4N to send invite messages only to those they see as visually appealing. There is usually a nominal fee charged for admission once you are deemed acceptable to be let in, like five, ten, maybe fifteen, twenty bucks tops. That little component of the evening is what makes the sex party illegal. It's not against the law to gather strangers in one's home solely for the purpose of sex, but it is illegal to charge them for it, no matter how nominal the fee. The illegality of the situation falls on the organizers of the sex party rather than the attendees though. So even though you as a sex party attendee are technically not breaking the law you're not totally out of the woods yet. We'll get back to that a little later.

Once you've paid the next thing you must do is get naked. At sex parties no one is allowed to be fully clothed. The most clothes allowed are usually shoes and underwear. You check your clothes and other belongings at the door. They are usually placed in plastic bags for you to pick up later. I wouldn't recommend that you bring anything of high importance with you. You should leave your wallet and credit cards at home. The most that should be with you at a sex party is a necessary bit of cash, and an identification card. Lube and condoms are always provided, their use is strongly encouraged and the better sex parties even provide drinks and snacks.

Now that you're all horny and naked it's time to let yourself loose on the crowd. Sex parties are usually pretty dim so don't expect to find Mr. Gorgeous there. If you've been to a club you should know pretty well how feelings can change for someone once the lights come up. At a sex party, the lights never come up. Hey, it all feels the same in the dark anyway so I guess you should just enjoy it for what it is. I wouldn't expect to find Mr. Right there either as personality is not paramount there.

My major questions to my sex party attending friends involved sexual etiquette. I'll break these down:

How is sexual contact initiated?
Just like with anything else the eyes have it. You scan the room, lock eyes with someone and usually it goes from there.

Are people there overly aggressive? Should one fear being manhandled or raped?
Everyone I've asked has told me no and that it's pretty much a laid back environment. I guess it would be, it's a damn sex party. If one dude says no you're pretty much bound to find one to say yes, right? I talked with a guy, a white guy I used to work with, who ran a sex party out of his house and he told me that during the course of his parties usually a group of the patrons break out singing Broadway show toons.

How do you know who tops and who bottoms?
I've been told that it's usually pretty apparent, at least without actually speaking, by the type of underwear the guy is wearing. Bottoms usually wear more form fitting underwear like boxer briefs, tighty whities, and those lycra, stretchy, H&M, 2Xist things while tops usually wear boxers. I've also been told that a top will usually pat the ass of the guy he's interested in while a bottom will usually tug at the dick of the guy he's interested in. Of course there are exceptions to these rules, but in any event, don't go to a sex party and not expect to be touched.

Just because you're there do you have to do something?
The overwhelming response to that question has been no. Even though you will probably be asked to engage in some sort of sexual activity, as far as I've been told there's no real pressure to do so. Many people frequent sex parties just to feed their voyeuristic desires. So if you wanted to just go to watch others have sex and jerk yourself off that's perfectly okay.

Now back to the illegality thing. What's the worst that can happen? Can you get arrested? This reminds me of a funny story. One night a while back I was in my bed, feigning sleep, and I overheard two of my more heftier friends plotting to get into a sex party. Because sex parties can be so discriminatory when it comes to weight and shape their plan was to hold their stomachs in when they arrived to the door. It took everything in me not to bust out laughing at such a ridiculous idea. I mean, is it really that serious? Another friend told me that when guys are turned away at the door, deemed unacceptable for entrance into the sex party, some of them don't take this very lightly. Sometimes they will, out of revenge, call the police. That usually leads to the sex party being raided. It doesn't happen very often, hardly ever really, like one in a million, but it still remains a very real possibility.

One of my friends did tell me a story about a raid and it went something like this. It started like I said, from someone who wasn't allowed entry into the party getting mad and calling the police. The police arrived and entered the party loudly, guns ablaze, like the police do. They questioned the organizers of the party while making everyone else get up against the wall and "spread 'em". From what I remember of the story the party goers were a little embarrassed but none arrested. I guess the question at hand is whether he thrill of anonymous sex is worth the risk of getting caught with a dick in your mouth?

As far as my opinion is concerned, I have to admit that I am curious about the goings on of sex parties and that I would like to be a fly on the wall, but I don't see myself ever going to one. Even the slight risk of a police raid is enough to deter me. And with all these diseases out here, and with me doing this whole blog thing and people recognizing me, the anonymous fun of it all would be lost for me, even if I were to just spectate. So at this point, there's just no point. It's something I probably should have done a few years ago. But even with all that BV I don't disencourage you to go, why not? Have a good time, you only live once. Just be safe.

-Adam

PS: Now if we gon' have a sex party I'd have a perfectly legal, free, on the low, invite only, party of attractive friends of friends so we'd know what we all look like. But I'm just sayin' though, it's not like I'ma do it or nothin'. **flips through cell phone contacts**

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Playing In The Background...
"Sexhibition"
by Janet Jackson
from the album "Damita Jo"
and
"Freakshow"
by Britney Spears
from the album "Blackout"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

Stepping out of the subway station this morning on the way to work I walked through a gloomy and desolate Times Square. Sanitation trucks, damp, stubborn confetti and freshly moved police barricades the only evidence that over a million people stood right here at this very place, this triangular square, only but a few short hours ago. As I took a shortcut through the corridor outside the Minskoff Theatre I picked up a small, dry square of green confetti and placed it in my coat pocket, knowing that that was the closest I'd ever get to spending my New Year's Eve huddled with a mass of strangers at Times Square. I, like most native New Yorker's would never be caught dead doing such a thing. The whole Times Square, New Year's Eve thing is for tourists. I spend enough time with them, annoying the hell out of me at the hotel everyday, Lord knows they are the last people I want to spend my after hours time with. No thanks. Although I the party I went to last night wasn't nearly as big it sure was interesting.

I started my New Year's Eve off last night like I've started off every New Year's Eve my whole life, at church. The last time I'd been to church was last New Year's Eve, well there was my sister's wedding back in May but I guess that doesn't really count. I went to my best friend Mike's church, like I did last year, for New Year's Eve or Watch Night service. Watch Night service, a years old tradition in Christian churches is an alternative to the debauchery and lasciviousness of secular New Year's Eve celebrations. In more recent times it has taken on an additional meaning in the African American community. Midnight, January 1st, 1863 was when the Emancipation Proclamation was enacted. This document, issued by President Abraham Lincoln basically freed the slaves. Having such a significant moment in history coincide with the Watch Night services and other religious gatherings already going on in the African American community added a new layer of meaning to Watch Night.

The service started at 10, me being me, fashionably late, even for church, I didn't arrive until about 11:40. I had to stop by the ATM, ('cuz ya know I wasn't gonna go to church and not give nothin') and the liquor store on the corner so I'd have something to bring to the party I was going to after church. I also brought a bookbag along to stash the bottle of wine I bought. I didn't need the church folks to be all up in my business. It was hell (forgive the pun) getting a cab, but finally I got one and arrived to church. After the service Mike and I ate baked chicken, with king-sized helpings of baked macaroni and cheese and potato salad, carb city. I'm soooooo not eating like that anymore now that the holidays are over.

From there we left. Mike and I walked to the train station and we parted ways, Mike going downtown to a club, Me going uptown to a party with a new guy I'd just started seeing. Since we're spent New Year's together we're gonna call this guy, "'08". '08 is Dominican, tall, thin, about my height and beautiful, just like I like em'. I told him earlier the day before that I didn't have any concrete party plans for New Year's and he insisted that I spend it with him at the party his family was having. I shied away from the invite at first. I mean, I hardly know '08, and even though I would be introduced to his family as a friend, maybe it was too soon, if at all, for all of this. But he insisted, telling me that it was no big deal and that the party was a birthday celebration for his father and that there'd be a stripper there. Stripper? Like ass-giggling, titty-bouncing, pussy-poppin-on-a-handstand, stripper? Alrighty, I was officially intrigued.

So I arrived to the party, not knowing what exactly to expect. '08 opened the door for me and there I was, a lone black guy in a sea of Spanish-speaking Dominicans, all crowded against the walls of the kitchen and the livingroom, awaiting the arrival of the evening's entertainment. I was right on time. As '08 took my coat and bag I presented his mother with the bottle of wine I'd been hiding from the church folks all night. She smiled warmly at me, shocked that I would think to bring something. I'm nothing if not classy. You can't just roll up in a house party and don't bring nothin'. My mama taught me better than that.

I was finishing my first Corona when I noticed that the house was at it's maximum capacity. I even noticed that a few more black folks had trickled in. The stripper finally came out. As everyone at the party started to crowd around her, '08', the unofficial photographer for the night, brushed past me, took a light grab at my dick and flashed me a sly, sexy smile as the stripper prepared to perform. Eve's "Tambourine" played almost inaudibly on an old stereo in the background.

The stripper was a black woman, she looked like she was around 30, with a long black leather coat with a black faux fur collar on. She whipped the coat off in front of '08's father, sitting on the far side of the living room, revealing a violet-colored, stringy bathing suit, white knee high fishnet stockings, several tattoos, and a plethora of other battle scars. Her and her shiny, golden brown, kanekalon crimped wig and her scant bosom weren't gonna win her any beauty pageants, but it was her ample, gelatinous ass that was paying the bills.

She twirled and tworked around, grinding, writhing and gyrating all over '08's dad to cheers and shouts from all the revelers at the party, male and female. She continued to grind on him and then asked "Where's Mommy?" and grinded on '08's Mom as well, which out of pure discomfort sent her fleeing from the scene. Things didn't start getting interesting until she laid on the floor and started doing tricks. When she threw her legs up and her head back and pulled an illuminated ball and string from her vagina, that's when I dropped my first dollar. Then I realized that this, January 1st, 2008 was the first time I had ever seen a vagina in person before, and frankly (no offense to my female readers, you know I love you all) I wasn't impressed. As you all know I'm a gold star homo and have never been with or had the desire to be with a woman before. Looking into her cavern I began to question myself. Is this was what my mother, and Russell, and all the teenage knuckleheads I grew up with in school made such a big deal about? "Yo, son, you gotta get you some pussy, yo. You gotta get that dick wet. Nigga, I'm telling you all you need is some good pussy, son." Here is pussy, right here in front of me, I mean, I guess it's good, the other guys seem to like it, in fact they're mesmerized by it, staring into it like a Magic Eye puzzle, and I don't want it. I'm officially a homo. I haven't a doubt in my mind.

The poontang pageant didn't end there ladies and gentlemen. She straddled and rode a dildo on the floor of the living room. At which one of the straight male revelers replies "She's such a whore." She poured candle wax down the crack of her ass. She sprayed whipped cream on that same ass and rode an older gentleman's face. She spread eagle on a chair and let the guest of honor fuck her with a glow in the dark dildo. This is when the dollars really began to fly. Some overzealous attendees placed dollar bills on her clitoris at which she snapped "Uh uh, not on my pussy!" And I mean, c'mon guys, how y'all gon' put dirty dollar bills all on the woman's pussy? That's just not right. She even grinded up on me for a little bit and still, no dick movement whatsoever. I'm so gay.

The apex of the evening, the trick of all tricks, the one that amazed the men and had the women at the party taking notes was when she laid back down on the floor, threw them legs up, cocked her head back, opened a bottle of Poland Spring and stuck it in her vagina. I looked on in amazement as the water started to disappear. Her pussy was drinking the water! Just then she spun around on her back, removed the bottle and made water gush from her pussy like Old Faithful. Then she did it again. Oh my goodness, I'd never seen such a thing in all me life! The last time I'd seen "Pussy Control" even close to that was that time with Penelope on the park bench. But even that couldn't compare to this. This was amazing, even the women were in awe. She got two more dollars just for that. Knowing that she had a captive audience she then demanded, Ronnie from "The Player's Club" style, that twenty more dollars be dropped on the floor immediately before she continued to perform. And she got it too. She rolled around on the floor and did some more tricks.

By that time I found a place to sit far away from where I may be sprayed by gushing coochie water, ass-flavored whipped cream, glitter and who knows what else. I had gotten my fill of punanny for the night, for the year actually. Soon after the stripper left, they turned the merengue back on and couples started dancing on the living room floor. By that time I had had my third Corona, I was officially tipsy and an honorary Dominican. Soon after that the party died down and '08 and I left.

The coolest thing about '08's family was their openness about their sexuality. They know, parents, brothers, cousins, friends and neighbors and are all cool with '08 being gay, and having dates and boyfriends and are all so supportive of him. His mother didn't mind her husband having a stripper at the party and she was even there to share in the experience. The women at the party didn't feel put off or uncomfortable about their men enjoying the strip show. How cool is that? I wish my family and friends I grew up with were that cool. What a nurturing environment that must be for him? I'm a little jealous. Maybe it's a cultural thing, but most black families, at least the ones I know of, are way more reserved and repressed when it comes to sexuality than that of our Hispanic counterparts, at least from my experience. I think we all can stand to be more open about our sexuality. People would be less apt to do dangerous and harmful things if they didn't have to deal with being shamed by their loved ones for just being themselves, ya know?

My New Year's Eve 2007, ran the gamut, from church to Coronas, from saints to strippers. I'm sure that few of those revelers down at Times Square last night had as much fun as I did. Just to think, yesterday morning I was uncertain of my plans and then ended up having the best New Year's ever. I can't wait until next year. I'm so ready for all of the wonderful things that 2008 is going to bring. Aren't you?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Tambourine"
by Eve
from the album "Here I Am"
and
"Pussy Poppin'"
by Ludacris
from the album "Chicken-n-Beer"
and
"Pussy Control"
by Prince
from the album "The Gold Experience"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Wow, we haven't done a dating update in a minute. Where, oh where do we begin? Well, it's Sunday morning. Praise the Lord everybody. This is the part where y'all all say "Praise the Lord" back. Speaking of the Lord, back in the day, growing up in church, when someone stopped coming to church that person was called a backslider, a person who has fallen from or left from the way. In my dating life I'm also a backslider. In the past week I have totally done a 180 from the quote-unquote "more righteous" path of self denial I'd been etching out for myself in the past few months and I'm really enjoying it. I've also gone back to some people and situations I'd left behind. Reunited and I'm not sure how it feels... Just don't judge me.

Waking up drunken and dehydrated on Nathan's bathroom floor the Friday before last seemed to really put things in perspective for me. I'd been doing way too much and had been trying way too hard to prove that I was "enlightened" and the pressure got to me. I turned to a bottle of Grey Goose vodka for relief. I told you guys and everyone else about it. The general consensus was that I should relax and not be so hard on myself and just be myself in general. So here I am, don't judge me.

The first step to being me was letting all that Puritan shit go. I'm obviously nobody's prude and no one's Puritan. I let the Puritanical homos with their haughty-holier-than-thou attitudes and turned up noses convince me that the online dating thing was bad and beneath me. After forsaking the online thing and actually going out to meet people at parties, in clubs and in bars for the past three months and having a few experiences like the one I had a week and a half ago. I realize that online dating definitely isn't so bad, it's definitely much easier and at the end of the day is much more genuine and no-nonsense. So on December 24th I ended my 93-day hiatus and got back online. The experiment is over! This time though I didn't put up any dick pictures on my profiles in an effort to keep them a little more PG. I'm not trying to attract the casual sex, jumpoff element anymore and you know, with me doing all this stuff as far as the blog and my writing, it's just not the best look. On my BGC profile I even put the address to the blog, nothin' says lovin like free advertisement, don't judge me.

Speaking of lovin' I definitely appreciate the love I've been getting from you all online toward the blog. I've been getting hit up with messages from people telling me how much they enjoy the blog and that they are regular readers. I even got two messages on A4A yesterday from some readers welcoming me back online. "He's back" one of them said. Besides blog lovin' I've been getting plenty of messages about other kinds of lovin' as well:

On BGC I've been getting hit up pretty regularly. I even met up with a friend from college that I haven't seen in two years. We chilled yesterday, it was great to be able to catch up. I actually caught up with a few more friends on there including one of my really good friends who I always know is back in the city from college when I see him on BGC trolling for dates. (You know who you are. Smile.) I even donated some money and upgraded my BGC account so now I can view the mobile site on my Blackberry (Miss Berry the Second) and I can view the site regularly with no advertisements (including the pornographic ones) which means that I can browse BGC at work when I'm bored. BGC is funny, it's evolved from a dating/hookup site to more of a networking/friendship site. It's much more tame than it used to be. It's like the black gay MySpace now. Here's a link to my BGC page.

I signed up for A4A but you know an account there takes 24 hours to process. When I signed in for the first time on the 28th I had 42 new messages. Damn, what a welcome back. Unfortunately, maybe like two of them were actually desirable to me, but I appreciate the love anyway. I hardly ever talked to anyone from A4A anyway. The guys on BGC and even M4N are usually more attractive.

Speaking of M4N, their accounts take 24 hours to process as well. I logged in there for the first time on Friday as well and had 172 new messages. Damn, I thought there was a glitch in the system or something, but there were indeed 172 messages there. I went through all of those and only replied back to about four of them.

With all this messaging back and forth you'd think I would have met up with one of these people. I actually have not. I've exchanged some numbers had a few convos but that's about it. Out of sheer boredom, late Christmas night after my date with this new guy, ummm, it's Sunday and I'm feeling Biblical, lets call him Amos... Lemme digress a little. Amos, I met at that party I went to in Brooklyn, the Friday before last, the same day I got all drunk and pulled a Lindsay/Britney in Nathan's bathroom and went shopping afterward, yeah that day. Amos and I went to see "The Great Debaters" Christmas night, a great movie by the way. As far as the date I guess there was a little Chemistry, he seems like a cool guy, a fellow Leo, but I remember him being cuspy though, like really close to the Cancerous side of things. The conversation was good and there was even a little touching and hand holding during the movie but we didn't kiss at the end of the night though. Not even a kiss on the first date, what kinda Leo is that? There has been some light texting and a phone convo since then, we'll see, don't judge me.

Now where were we? Oh yeah, sheer boredom and shit. Okay, later that night, once I got back home I got a text from Robo-Munchkin. You remember Robo-Munchkin, he was Online Dating Horror Story #4. I first met him a few months back. Short story: he was this short top dude that was trying his hardest to try and fuck me (I'm a top as well) and I laughed in his face. It's actually a very funny story, read it and catch up. Anyway he texts me. I, not recognizing his number and not knowing who the hell he was asked him and he reminded me. Then he asks me if I'm up for having a threesome. I said no as I'm not particularly fond of those. Then he suggests that he come over anyway. I asked why and reiterated to him that I'm a top and that he is not, I repeat not gonna fuck me. He suggests we do oral. I told him that I wouldn't suck his dick either. I just knew that this was the end of our conversation. He says that he's fine with that and that he'd just suck my dick. I agreed to that. Shit, why not? I'm home, alone, horny and a cute guy wants to come and suck my dick, how could I say no? So he comes by, sucks me off, I eat him out and almost fucked him. I would have fucked him except that my dick, the head really, couldn't fit in (That damn mushroom head is a gift and a curse). Uh huh, talkin' all that shit the last time I saw him, the top killer strikes again, don't judge me.

Oh and speaking of my mushroom head and people mentioned in past blog posts, remember Freddy, from this blog post? We did it. Wednesday night. My mushroom head almost made us not able to do it but we pulled it off, don't judge me.

"Maybe I am foolishly in love with someone that is
Not exactly on the same page, that I am on
Well all my friends keep telling me stop
Walking round so blindly
But when he calls they're not around
To ever remind me..."

"I guess I kind of notice he don't always act so kindly
But that doesn't stop my hunger, hunger for his heart
Why should I listen to those, who think that I should move on
Maybe what they see as drama, I see more as art..."

"Can't seem to get past how he makes me feel
May not be love but it feels so real
Can't go with what they say must follow my heart
But now is that even being to to me
Maybe I'm happy, truly content
Maybe this is as good as it gets
Do I have faith in my confidence
Or am I just thinking all hopelessly..."

-Vivian Green
from the song "What Is Love"

Speaking of going backwards, much to my chagrin I must admit that I have started seeing Pubby again.  I know, I know, I know many of you including my own friends have said that he's no good for me, that I deserve better, that I'm "a stupid bitch". But I like him, okay, I do. The times that we are together, though few and far between are great. And it's not like I'm not seeing other people, even though I'd rather just be with him. But ya gotta fill the empty space somehow. **sigh** Don't judge me.

Even though I was really pissed at him and had been giving him the cold shoulder for the past few weeks, ignoring his calls and text messages. Y'all know me and you know I can't stay mad forever. It's just not in me. He hit me up via email one day and we started talking about making peace. We went out to dinner last Sunday to Alfredo Of Rome. We hadn't seen each other in like two months so we got all caught up. We talked out all of our misunderstandings and agreed to communicate better. I'm not putting anything on it this time but I guess we'll see. I'ma just enjoy the time we spend together. He came to my house on Thursday night. In an effort to switch things up I asked him to cook for me this time. He cooked and the food turned out good in spite of the fact that he almost burned my apartment down in the process. Smoke everywhere, coughing, watery, burning eyes, opened windows, the works. Yeah baby, you sit there and look pretty and let papa do all the cookin' from now on. After the smoke cleared it felt so good to hold him in my arms again, don't judge me.

I've had more fun this week than I've had in a long time. Granted, every week won't be as sexual as this one was, and that's more than okay. It just feels good to be myself again, however promiscuous people think that may be. One thing I could say is that I haven't drank and haven't wanted to drown my sorrows in alcohol since that day at Nathan's house, that's a good thing. I'm sure my liver is happy about that and I finally got me some, my dick is very happy about that. In one week I just totally went against everything I'd been preaching for the last few months. Call me a backslider, call me Al Green if you will, just don't judge me.

==========
Playing in The Background...
"Too Close"
by Al Green
from the album "One In A Million"
and
"Tired Of Being Alone"
by Al Green
from the album "Greatest Hits"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (1)

Last Saturday I attended a taping of my good friend DJ Baker's Doo-Dirty Radio Show. He was doing some interviews with a few gay porn stars T-Malone, Azucar and Peanut. Urban gay porn magnate Enrique Cruz was there as well. Right before I sat down at the table Azucar asked me "What movies have you starred in?" I have to admit I was flattered. I've always had a secret desire to do a porno movie. I don't see myself going through with it though. Anyway, while we were all just sitting around, Enrique Cruz, the renaissance man he is, pulls out his camera and starts taping their conversation about sex, dicks, porn etc. I even make a cameo as well. Check out the convo while it's hot and while it's still on YouTube:

Just in case you have a problem playing the embedded video here here's the YouTube direct link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZJceeW6884

LINKS:
- For more behind the scenes footage and a view into the life of my favorite porn director Enrique Cruz, check out his blog: EnriqueCruzBlog.com
- Check out the Da Doo-Dirty Radio Show. The best damn radio show ever!

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Porno Star"
by Joe Budden
from the album "Joe Budden"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Last month I wrote a post entitled: "This Is How You Know You Are/Were A Ho..." It basically was about how I used to sleep around so much that my friends, especially my fellow top friends, when meeting or dating someone would ask whether I had already slept with the person. I touch on this subject in Episode 5 of the Mini-Series as well. Well, yesterday evening a few more of my ho-ish chickens came home to roost.

In all of my promiscuousness I have at least prided myself on at least remembering everybody I've stuck my dick into. Even if I don't remember names (which I'm bad at), or screen names (which I'm even worse at), I'll remember some sort of distinguishing characteristic, such as the streets they lived on, the outfits they wore or something they said, etc. I realized yesterday that I'm even slacking on that. The last time I made a list of my sexual partners I stopped somewhere around... well that's not important. My negative HIV test result yesterday is helping me to put my life in perspective. What irony is it that ten hours later I had this conversation.

07:15:40 PM    JonBoi48: Sup
07:16:31 PM    Adam: Whaddup?
07:16:44 PM    JonBoi48: Chillin'
07:16:48 PM    JonBoi48: U know who this is?
07:16:53 PM    Adam: Nope
07:17:11 PM    JonBoi48: This Jon..I hit u up all the time
07:17:40 PM    JonBoi48: U ain't ever hit me back after we chilled..sup wit dat?
07:18:01 PM    Adam: I'm sorry but I don't remember. How long ago was this?
07:18:07 PM    Adam: Do u have a MySpace?
07:18:25 PM    JonBoi48: I'm from New Hampshire..and I was staying in Harlem
07:18:32 PM    JonBoi48: and I just moved to NY
07:18:48 PM    JonBoi48: I got MySpace
07:19:02 PM    Adam: Okay, so we chilled n what happened?
07:19:07 PM    JonBoi48: We fucked
07:19:19 PM    Adam: Oh ok lol
07:19:22 PM    JonBoi48: lol
07:19:22 PM    Adam: Was it any good?
07:19:27 PM    JonBoi48: Yeah, it was good
07:19:30 PM    JonBoi48: U busted twice
07:19:36 PM    JonBoi48: lol
07:19:37 PM    Adam: ook
07:20:05 PM    Adam: I knew it was good, this is me we're talking about. I just wanted to hear u say it. LOL
07:20:13 PM    JonBoi48: lol
07:20:14 PM    JonBoi48: whateva
07:20:15 PM    JonBoi48: lol
07:20:20 PM    JonBoi48: O so U KNOW yo shyt is good??
07:20:37 PM    JonBoi48: U know who u talking to now?
07:20:40 PM    Adam: Not really, I'm sorry.
07:20:45 PM    JonBoi48: That's fucked up.
07:20:54 PM    JonBoi48: I sent u a msg on MySpace the other day.
07:20:57 PM    Adam: How long has it been?
07:21:02 PM    Adam: U did?
07:21:04 PM    JonBoi48: It was like September.
07:21:05 PM    JonBoi48: Yeah
07:21:09 PM    Adam: Did I reply back?
07:21:11 PM    JonBoi48: I asked u how u been
07:21:15 PM    JonBoi48: and u said "I'm good."
07:21:26 PM    Adam: Ook, that's common courtesy
07:23:23 PM    Adam: Well, since then I've been off the dating sites
07:23:32 PM    Adam: And I haven't been hooking up n shyt anymore.
07:24:04 PM    JonBoi48: U seen it?
07:25:04 PM    Adam: Ook, I remember now.

I'm funny, I didn't know who this dude was for most of that conversation and I was still flirting. While I am slowing down on the sexual tip, at the end of the day I'm still me. I'm a flirt and I still like sex. Even in my quest for true intimacy I don't ever see myself as one of those people who shut themselves down completely and becomes celibate. Oh, I'ma get me some eventually, just not so much on the first night anymore, ain't that much cuddling in the world. But whenever I do finally me get some I'll be sure to remember his name.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Promiscuous" feat. Timbaland
by Nelly Furtado
from the album "Loose"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

This morning I woke up really early and made my way down to the clinic. No drips, bumps, rashes or legions or scares this time. It's just been a while since my last real relationship, I'd been having sex here and there since then, certainly not as often, everything safe of course and I just figured it's about time I get tested again. It's been a while and it's just good to know. I'm entering a new phase in my life where I'm learning the value of intimacy over random sex and I'd feel better knowing I'm entering this less sexual phase in my life totally safe. I wanna be able to say with confidence to the next man I lay with that I'm negative.

I arrived bright and early, waiting outside five minutes before they opened. I figured that I'd come early to avoid the crowds because if you come too late you will be here all day, like the DMV or something. Unlike times past I felt confident about this test. Sure I did the usual oh-Lord-Jesus-please-don't-let-this-test-come-back-positive bargaining with God as I left my house, as I walked to the train station, on the train, when I first got to the clinic, and right before I started typing this blog post on my Blackberry now as I wait for my results. I listened to gospel music all the way here to soothe my nerves. Even with all that I'm still not as worried this time as I have been in times past. I remember that one time I got tested I promised the Lord that if it came out negative that "I'd never touch another man again." God is such a good God, not only is he loving and faithful, he even knows when to ignore his children.

When I first walked in about an hour and a half ago I was the only person here. I was called into the office and spoke with the registration person. To keep everything confidential (You have the choice to give or not give your name. I gave mine because I wanted my results on paper.) from then on I'd be identified around the office by a letter or a number. Fittingly, I was given the number one. I gave a urine sample to be tested for gonorrhea and hepatitis as well. Since I was there I wanted the works.

Slowly but surely more people started trickling in. People of all ages coming into the registration office as men and women and leaving as letters and numbers. Looking around I began to think that I could have easily seen one of these people out on the street or maybe at a club. There was a beautiful girl about my age sitting across from me. My mind began to wander thinking of what circumstances could have brought her here this morning. And then there was a young man, decent looking, a hood dude. I could tell he was straight, the kinda straight dude that would probably beat you down if you said he was gay. He was going to see the doctor. Lord knows I've been there. We all looked at each other, exchanging glances every so often, probably thinking all the same things. All while the television, mounted in the top left corner of the room looped HIV/AIDS PSAs in English and then en Espanol over and over again. Every ten minutes Whoopi Goldberg, Susan Sarandon and Rosie Perez explained why it's not cool for gay men to do crystal meth and the joys of condom use in between terribly acted scenes played by amateur actors pretending to visit the clinic.

After waiting about 40 minutes I was called into the counselor's office.  He asked me about my sexual history, how many partners I'd been with in the past three months, whether I was gay or straight, whether I had sex for money or drugs, whether I'd done anything unsafe, etc. He even asked me what I thought the test result was gonna be. I told him negative. He was just so nonchalant about it all as though he were reading these questions from a hidden teleprompter. He didn't even look at me hardly. I mean, hey, he deals with this everyday, I guess he's probably used to it by now. I'm used to the customers at my job. The guests at the hotel don't bother me much, their sobbiest of travel sob stories do little to move me anymore, oh the airline lost my bag, oh my dinner reservation, it's whatever. I've heard it all before. People forget that even though these people are HIV counselors, it's still their job, it's a job. I really couldn't expect him to fall out on the floor if God forbid my test came back positive. I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time he's seen a positive result, nor would it be the last.

The most earnest question he asked me though was if my test came back positive would I be able to handle it? He actually looked at me for that one. I told him yes. I mean, I'm sure I could. It isn't the end of the world, right? I have friends and people I know people who are positive. They are living happy and healthy lives, taking care of themselves, still going out, still dating, some don't even take any medicine. If I were positive I know I'd be okay like that, right? I guess that's all easy to say until you're actually the one that's positive.

A few minutes later I was called in to take my test. I joked around with the nurse about how I hate getting my blood taken and how I'm never able to watch it go up the needle and fill the little vial. She tapped my arm and easily found a vein. As I turned away and readied my body for the prick of the needle it was already in. It didn't even hurt like it usually does. I even watched the blood fill the vial this time. It was no big deal. Then I took the OraSure test. That's the one where they test your mouth for HIV. It only takes about 30 minutes to get a result. Then I was sent back to the waiting room, awaiting my fate.

As I walked back in here just now I'm the center of attention, Hood Dude and Beautiful Girl both looking at me as well as all the new numbers and letters that have now filled the waiting room. The bandage on my arm pretty much tells my story. I felt like they were waiting for my results just as anxiously as I was. To ease the tension I took my phone out to began typing this and I thought a little prayer "Lord Jesus pleeeeease let this thing come back negative." and here I am.

"Number one" my counselor called out from across the hall. This is it. I nervously followed him to his tiny office and before I could sit down in the chair he said dryly "Negative, keep it that way." Alrighty then, thank you Jesus. I straightened up, fixed my clothes and left his office. As I got back to the hallway and waited for the elevator I saw Hood Boy, Beautiful Girl and the whole alphabet staring at me, craning their necks so they could see me through the waiting room doors, trying to read my face. I wanted to do a two handed thumbs up but I thought that that might be too much so I just smiled with my eyes like Tyra Banks always says to do. I think they got the point.

I'm negative, and I plan to keep it that way.

GET TESTED!

Links:
- New York City free HIV/STD testing clinic locations
- Find an HIV/STD testing site anywhere in the United States here

=========
Playing In The Background...
"Gotta Get It Right"
by Spiritual Pieces
from the album "Soul Food"
and
"Grateful"
by Kurt Carr & the Kurt Carr Singers
from the album "No One Else"
and
"That's Just The Way The Father Is"
by Kurt Carr & the Kurt Carr Singers
from the album "Awesome Wonder"
==========

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

I woke up this morning next to someone I did not have any sexual contact with again. I was having a vulnerable night last night and after some counsel from my new friend we fell asleep in each other's arms. It was everything a normal sleep over first date would be but without the sex and once again I don't feel like I've missed anything.

I think I'm catching on to a new phenomenon here. I did this same exact thing almost a month ago, (remember the post I wrote about that?) and have done it a few times since. It's like I'm getting everything I need without the pleasure and complication of sex. We actually had a beautiful night last night. We talked and laughed and shared our experiences. We were attracted to each other physically but it's not a love connection and that's okay. He actually has some friends he wants to hook me up with. Shit, it's about damn time somebody hooks me up. A lot of long-lasting meaningful relationships start through hookups through friends so I'm actually kinda excited.

I have to admit though, my dick hardened a little a few times as we spooned through the night and hands traveled a bit but that I just chalk up to male curiosity. Gay or straight behind all of our designer labels, our careers and the fabulous lives we've created for ourselves we're all still little boys wondering "Is his thing bigger than my thing?" Yeah, there was a little bit of sexual tension, but that was only due to the fact that we were two attractive gay men in bed together. We woke this morning as friends and its the coolest thing. I'm glad that we didn't needlessly give in to our physical urges and ruin shit. Last night seems like one of those things we'll sit and laugh about someday.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Friend To Friend"
by Diana Ross
from the album "Diana"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

We crowded around a compound table, you know, one of those big tables they make by pushing small tables together, in the corner of a popular New York diner last Saturday Night. Eight of us, six of us being members of our crew, Media Inc. Me, DJ, Tye Sexy, Shorty Roc, Ra Shawn and Soulgee (Dwight was there in spirit), Keemie my best friend of 12 years and JoJo, the guy DJ's seeing. As we laughed and talked about life and our upcoming projects, the topic of sex came up. It's very rare that you can get a group of grown folks together, especially our group of grown folks together and sex not become a topic of conversation.

DJ, as usual spouted his chauvinistic 'top-is-man-bottom-is-woman' rhetoric which always gets him eye rolls and exclamations of "Uh uh! No DJ..." from everyone except me (I just laugh) and Tye Sexy (she's a straight girl so it doesn't bother her so much). Sometimes I swear DJ is secretly straight but just likes to hang out with gay people because we're so much more fun. Somehow the conversations shifted toward the last time we've all had sex.

"Damn, I ain't had sex in a minute..."
I exclaimed.

"Ummm hmmm and exactly how long is a minute? We read your blog."
Shorty Roc retorted as the others looked at me with skeptical screwfaces. Gosh, you share a few sex experiences on your blog and take a few half naked pics on a railroad track and suddenly you're some type of nymphomaniac or something. What's with people?

"I mean, it's been a while..."
I answered, trying to figure out how long it had been since that night Winston came over.

"And how long is a while, a week, two weeks...?"
Shorty the inquisitioner continued.

"It's been a while... a minute."
I answered, looking into the stone faces of my friends wondering why I was appearing before the firing squad.

"Yeah, that must be a New York minute..."
Shorty said as though he knew something that I didn't know he knew.

Eighteen days. My minute is eighteen days, and counting. Eighteen days since I last got me some. It feels so much longer than it sounds. I mean, I am a native New Yorker. A week without sex I notice, after two weeks I get a little stir crazy, but this is eighteen days were talking about. I'm not used to this shit. I've just been so busy lately that I haven't noticed until now.

I made a sexual joke with a friend on the phone yesterday to which he responded "Please chile, I ain't had sex in six months." Six months! Dayyyyyyyum. I mean, granted I've had lapses of sexual activity have lasted longer than eighteen days before, they don't make this particular one feel any better or anything. This is not just eighteen days though. This is eighteen days, and counting. As far as that six month thing is concerned, that shit is just crazy, he must be like one quarter eunuch or something. I feel like the character "Samantha" (played by Kim Catrall) on "Sex And The City" when she said "I don't know where my next orgasm is coming from?". I concur Samantha, I concur. I don't even have any dates lined up for the weekend. Who knows when I'ma get me some ass again.

I have however, been masturbating as usual. Ever since I've been writing for Enrique Cruz's "Gay Sex Report" blog, one of the perks I get is a free membership to his website. It has sure been coming in handy, or rather cumming in handy (I'm sorry I couldn't help myself). I told him that when I ran into him last Friday at the "Dirty Laundry" movie premiere after which he reluctantly shook my hand. Enrique's stuff has always been my favorite and he chooses really hot guys for his videos. Every night before I go to bed it's me on the left side, my laptop, headphones, jar of Vaseline, and EnriqueCruz.com on the right side.

I got friends, I got my work, I got Enrique, I'll be okay. It's only at the moments when I pause from my otherwise busy life that I notice I haven't been getting any. On the other hand I haven't been getting any of the frustration, aggravation, and drama that go along with getting some, cuz you know having sex does involve at least two people and you have to think about the other person's wants and needs and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. So for the time being I guess I'm good. Maybe I'll luck up and my dick will just fall into someone hot in the near future cuz I sure don't have the time to look. I'll keep you updated on how long this sex drought lasts. This should be interesting.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Jerk" feat. 50 Cent
by Next
from the album "Welcome II Nextasy"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

"It's just a fling baby, fling baby
Nothing more than a fling baby, fling baby
Just a bit of ding-a-ling baby, bling baby
Don't want relationships so swing baby, swing baby..."
-Girls Aloud
from the song "Fling"

Now that I'm single and not dating anyone, sex has become more sporadic than usual. I guess that's not so terrible in the final scheme of things, I just can't count on getting it the way I used to, ya know? And I'm not doing the internet thing anymore so that counts that out. Basically, if I don't meet somebody decent while I'm out it's just not gonna happen for me. And if the heavens open up and the stars align and I do end up getting me some, more often than not it's with someone I'm being intimate with the first time and will more than likely never see again.

I've learned from past experience though that when dealing with casual sex, honesty is the best policy. I have to admit, every dude I've ever fucked with isn't exactly the man of my dreams. A lot of the time I'm horny, he's there and I'm there and the shit just pops off. I'm sure I haven't been all that every dude I've ever fucked with dreams of either. I mean, hey, we all got needs, sometimes the opportunity presents itself and it's like hey, what the fuck? Why the hell not? But what's messed up is when we lull anyone, or knowingly allow anyone to lull themselves into believing that it's more than just what it is.

I used to be one of those people who thought that just because I fucked someone that they were my boyfriend. Awww, c'mon admit it, you we're too. You didn't just magically become the learned, cosmopolitan, wise-beyond-your-months (yes months, a month is a homo year), homo you are today. You were innocent, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed once before Raheem, Rahliek, Chad or whoever it was with a big dick and/or fat ass and a smile ("...that boy is poison, p-p-poison"), broke your heart and turned you into a bitter, jaded queen who doesn't believe in love anymore, remember?

I've been the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (ewww forgive the pun, I just got into that) homo and unfortunately I've been Raheem as well. Being a little more experienced now every so often I find myself in the presence of one of those homos who I know if I fuck them they're gonna get attached to me. I used to just think, fuck it, I wanna hit, you gonna let me hit, we'll iron out the other shit later. Isn't it funny how hurting people hurt people? I was once hurt by a fly by night Chad, and now I've become one. How fucked up is that vicious circle? All I cared about was getting my nutt, going into the shit knowing that the person is gonna be open for me and knowing that I don't even feel the person like that. A lot of the time I would just ignore that feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me what I'm doing is wrong. Do you know how many times I've done that shit? And how many times it's been done to me?

Recently I was in a situation where I was, well, I guess dating someone. It was a sexual thing we had going on. We'd see each other, we'd go out, or we'd just chill at the crib but at the end of the night we'd have sex. Not just sex, really good motherfuckin' sex, we'd fuck like wild animals. He had this angelic face and seemed so innocent in the streets but when I got him in the bedroom he was such a freak, just the way I liked it. If I had to give a Lil' Kim reference I'd say "the way he sucked my dick, he had me head over heels..." I get hard just thinking about the positions I'd have him in, the way he'd ride me, the way I used to hit it from the back and watch my dark brown dick impale his fat little light-skinned ass, to hit it missionary and watch his face twitch in ecstasy as he moaned my name, called me "Daddy" and told me that my dick was "the best he'd ever had". Ahhh the memories... He felt the same way I felt, about the sex that is, I mean it was fuckin' great. He told me that I know what he likes without him even having to tell me, as though we'd had sex before, like in another life or something. Unfortunately his compliment stroked more than just my ego. Somewhere in the midst of the moans and groans and the rhythm of our contorted bodies giving each other pleasure, my feelings got mixed up in there. And somewhere in the process I stopped just fucking him and started making love.

I really started to like him and I believe he liked me, as a person, hey why not? I'm a nice guy, but he wasn't developing that type of feelings for me and as much as I tried not to see it, I knew good and damn well. Things were uneven... again, what a terribly familiar feeling this is. I'd text him and if he didn't text me right back I'd think he was uninterested. I wanted to talk to him but I didn't wanna call too much. If I called him every time he was on my mind, I'd never be off the phone. What was he doing? Where was he? I was like Blu Cantrell, "looking at the phone as if it owed me a favor..." I hope he's not fucking somebody else, or rather letting somebody else fuck him. Why doesn't he fuckin' call me?

"Though I know what I love most of him
I'm walking on needles and pins
My addiction to the worst of him..."
-Feist
from the song "Brandy Alexander"

Our thing cooled off even more after a while, as all things do, as all uneven-made-up-in-your-imagination things do, we got busy, he more than I, we started seeing each other less and less and then talking less and less and then meetings started getting postponed and canceled. Days would go by without us talking and it started to become real apparent that my feelings were unrequited. He was my priority, while I was obviously only an option for him. So I decided to just cut him off, he was unhealthy for me. I was tired of feeling for someone who didn't feel for me, that was my love life story. So I made a declaration, it's over between us, fuck you, you know I'm feeling you and you don't feel me, lose my number, he apologized, I melted, we saw each other again, he sucked my dick, we talked, we cuddled, damn he's so fuckin fine, nothing changed, things got worse, he got even more distant, I declared again, fuck you, lose my number, I mean it this time, he apologized, I forgave him, he never took full responsibility for his actions, he made me take part of the blame, he tricked me, I resented him, I made him answer a question, the big question, the one I already knew the answer to, "How do you really feel about me?", he answered, I was angry, why didn't he tell me? Why did he let me fuck him all those times? Why did he come to my house, and eat my food, and lie in my bed, and smile my smiles, and laugh my laughs, and listen to my stories, and waste my time? He knew how I felt. I'm such an idiot. I cut him off for real after that time. I was desperate so I took a desperate measure. I erased his number from my phone. I told him all I thought of him via text message, all I had felt but had been afraid to say because I thought I'd lose him. He texted me the next day and I didn't even look at it. I deleted it. I didn't want to read his apology, or his explanation, or his insults. Because then I would have to say something back, and then he'd say something back, and then I'd day something back, and it'd start all over again. He was poison and I had to quit him before he killed me. I was fighting for my emotions, fighting for my life. I couldn't fall into him again. So I walked away. I took solace in the fact that walking away had gotten a lot easier than it used to be.

I wasn't as mad with him as I was at me. How could I fall for another Rahliek? I knew better but I couldn't help myself. What I am mad at him for though is the fact that he just didn't tell me that he was uninterested as soon as felt like he was uninterested? Why did I have to drag it out of him? Why didn't he just say Adam, we fucked, that was fine and good but I'm just not interested in you like that? What's so wrong with that? Why did he apologize when I was ready to walk away? Why couldn't he just let me go? He didn't want me anyway. I don't get it. As soon as I got all strong and confident and was ready to walk away he made me melt again, why? Why did he tell me all of those sweet things? Well I guess those questions will remain unanswered because I never plan on speaking to Pubby or answering any of his correspondences again, at least until I feel I'm totally over him. I know it's petty and not very mature or evolved but I gotta look out for number one this time, everybody else fuckin' does it. I just can't risk falling for this dude again.

I shoulda listened when I was told to leave him alone, that he was no good for me, that he was playing games and that I deserve more. Y'all, the readers of my blog, my guardian angels, people who don't even know me, with nothing to lose or gain one way or the other were hitting me up and telling me this. I guess it's like in the words of Tennessee Williams "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." Thanks guys. I'ma finally get it one of these days.

On the other hand, in my recent involvement with Winston. I've noticed that he seems to be developing feelings for me rather quickly. So in everything we do I'm being real patient with him, telling him to slow down, get to know me, don't do so much so soon. We've had sex, it was very consensual, we both wanted it, he more than I though. He literally jumped on me and started ripping my clothes off. That was hot, but even with that I'm not 100% sure how I feel about him yet or how I want to proceed. He's cool, but I'm not necessarily looking for a boyfriend right now. I make sure that I'm straight up and honest with him at all times because I don't want to be to him what Pubby was to me. I'm aware of how easy it can be to lull yourself into a false sense of security with someone and I just won't allow  him to do that and as a result, no one is hurt. When fucking, honesty is the best fucking policy.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Fling"
by Girls Aloud
from the album "Tangled Up"
and
"Brandy Alexander"
by Feist
from the album "The Reminder"
and
"Catching Feelings"
by Faith Evans
from the album "The First Lady"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

People are really funny about their friends. Far too often I've been in situations with present and former friends where I meet a friend of theirs and their friend is attracted to me and I to the friend but my friend doesn't want us to date. I always wonder why, why friend can't I date your friend? I mean, we're friends, right? What's the big deal? Why have you forbidden me from this fruit? Don't they realize that that's only gonna make us want each other more? Forbidden fruit is always the best tasting fruit (wink, wink).

When faced with this obstacle, this sanction between me and the one with who I'm newly infatuated, I usually go against my friend's wishes and date the person anyway. My stubborn, independent nature doesn't allow for me to abide by such an edict. It actually pisses me off that my friend would even come at me in such a way anyway, as I have never, haven't ever, and would never mind if things were the other way around. As much as I'm gay and evolved and in touch with my feminine side I can be very macho (Leo, King Of The Jungle) at times and that kinda thing I take (sometimes wrongly, but not always) as a strategy to exert control over me and I never take kindly to that. I mean, shit, you my friend and all but you ain't my fuckin' father! I fuck who the fuck I wanna fuck so fuck you. As a result my sociable dick has lost me a few friends.

A good example is the termination of my friendship with my ex-best friend Chuck. I've mentioned him a few times namely here, here, and here. One major blow to our friendship was the fact that I fucked and subsequently dated two of his friends, people I met through him, after being told not to do so. I took Chuck's instruction not to date his friends very offensively, as though he were trying to control my life. In his case I think he was trying to control me, that withstanding, what I've learned from that experience is that friendships are kinda like relationships, but without the sex (at least for most people), you gotta compromise. Even though I would never hinder friends of mine from dating and I personally see it as a great thing, especially if two people that I brought together find love and stay together, I'd only be concerned about whose side I'm gonna sit on at the commitment ceremony myself, but I digress. People have their own reasons to do what they do and believe what they believe and even though I may not understand the rationale behind it and think that it's absolutely absurd I also realize that if I really value that person's friendship then I may have to acquiesce, roll with the punches, and take one for the team from time to time. And if I really feel like it's that serious then I'll do what I want but at the risk of losing the friendship. 'Cuz honestly, if I didn't get the chance to stick my dick inside my friend's friend, I'd live. The real question is how much is the friendship worth to me?

That brings us to Thursday night. I was at Mr. Man's party at Duvet. I arrived at about 2:30a, fashionably late as usual. I'm standing by the bar sipping on my drink, cranberry vodka, minding my own business while Mr. Man went off to make his rounds through the crowd. That's when I saw Freddy. Freddy is someone I met at a networking event a few weeks ago. He is a friend of my friend, we'll call my friend, Devin. Using "Sex And The City" terms, I would describe Devin and Freddy as "frenemies". Frenemeies are friends that are cordial and somewhat loyal to each other but still have issues with the things that they don't like about each other. Those things they usually never hesitate to point out to others, especially if an inquiry is made about their friend. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're fake friends, but as the adage goes, keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.

The day I first met Freddy he was very flirtatious, dropping not-so subtle sexual innuendo and double entendre throughout our conversation. That conversation also included Devin, who looked at Freddy in disgust, sick to his stomach at his friend's coquettish ways with someone he had been introduced to only minutes prior. Once Freddy left, Devin filled me in on the years of his and Freddy's history as friends. As Devin spinned it, Freddy's promiscuous ways had come between Devin and his other friends time and time before. It was to a point where Devin didn't even like to bring Freddy around his other friends anymore. This meeting was unfortunately unavoidable. As Devin talked I felt it coming, the passion in his voice, the frustration in his face, the subdued anger in his mannerisms, here it comes... here it comes... oh fuck! The edict:

"Adam, I don't care who you fuck with but you cannot fuck Freddy. If you fuck Freddy I swear I will never speak to you again."

Dammit! Not this shit again. So now I have to add Freddy to the list of people that I should legally, within my rights as an American be able to fuck (well, at least in most in most states) but cannot because my friend doesn't want me to. I mean like, what's the big fuckin' deal? I never understood this shit. I have yet in all my 24 years to tell a friend that they can't fuck somebody. Why cock block? Why hate?

Normally I would have been tight about this sorta thing but I figure that the friendship between Devin and I is good, why cause undue friction over a piece of ass? It's not like Freddy was "the one" or somethin', all he wanted from me was a ride on my dick. Granted, Freddy was sexy, my type, and a freak and I know the sex would be off the hook (his reputation precedes him) and although it'd probably be one night only, no strings attached, it wasn't worth fucking up a friendship with someone I see every other day. So I didn't sweat it and even though I didn't understand why it was such a big deal I shut my mouth, compromised and took this one for the team.

Back to Thursday night. I saw Freddy, we exchanged glances and then smiles and then he walked over to me. We exchanged normal club small talk, the-whaddups, the how-you-beens, the how-long-you-been-heres, we even talked about Devin and his where abouts that evening. He finally got me alone and it didn't take Freddy long to get down to the nitty-gritty.

"Why don't you fuck me so you can write about it on your blog tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

I said, pretending like I hadn't heard him as I over dramatized my tipsy-ness. This nigga is crazy, but it's so fuckin' hot though. Freddy looked back at me seductively, licking his chops like he was a ferocious lion and I was an unassuming, (kinda) innocent little lamb, and I'm supposed to be the Leo here. If he coulda took me in the bathroom right then I believe he would have.

"Shit, we can go in the bathroom right now..."

"Huh?"

I replied, totally dumbfounded and confused. I'm tipsy, this sexy ass dude wants me to fuck him at my ex-boyfriend's party, I'm horny as shit, I promised Devin I wouldn't do it, and even if I did try to do it on the low and swear Freddy to secrecy he's gonna eventually tell Devin, because they're frenemies and Freddy's just that kinda bitch.

"See that's whats wrong with y'all. Niggas is always scared..."

Now he's challenging my manhood, on some reverse psychology shit. Is there like some kinda coquette handbook that he's reading this shit from? 'Cuz the shit works, we exchanged numbers. Although I still wasn't planning to fuck him and I didn't save his number in my phone I didn't wanna look like a total pussy. Hopefully he wouldn't call, and if he did I just wouldn't answer the phone.

I saw Devin again Friday night. While we were out I told him about Freddy's advances at the club. I also reassured him that I wouldn't mess with Freddy because he told me not to. He told me that it was whatever and that he didn't care whether I fucked Freddy or not anymore. I don't believe him though.

It's Sunday and Freddy hasn't called.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"None Of Your Business"
by Salt-N-Pepa
from the album "Very Necessary"
and
"What About Your Friends"
by TLC
from the album "Ooooooohhh...On the TLC Tip"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

I just woke up about 15 minutes ago sprawled out across my bed, with my wifebeater, jeans and timbs still on, dick hard as nails. It's just one of those mornings. I went out briefly last night. I took a shower and the feeling of my naked body turned me on. I wanted to jerk off like I usually do but I was in a hurry. Fuck it. A part of me really wanted to take someone home last night, no such luck. It's not as though I was putting any effort toward making it happen though. Remember, I'm trying to change my ho-ish ways in an effort to discover what makes you Puritanical, self-denying bitches tick. Truthfully, as nice as the self-denial thing is and in many ways I'm sure a better look for me, I still don't quite get all of what's so wonderful about it, especially now when I'm horny as shit and when half of y'all don't believe my black ass is changing anyway.

Last night was definitely one of those nights I would have been online. I got home after 1 and it was a Wednesday night so I would have had to settle for whatever random piece of ass I could get in a twenty block radius as decent people have jobs and wouldn't be awake and online looking for sex at 1am on a Wednesday night. It would have probably been some fugly dude that I would never walk the streets and claim but you know even that's never stopped me before. Dimmer lights and a vivid imagination are the simplest cure for that. I heard they got some new website now called "Thug 4 Thug" or something like that and they have a cam chat feature. Damn, that sounds like fun. I had just gotten in from an event so I was definitely ready for my close up. But I'm not fucking with the online shit anymore.

I feel like my skin is on fire, everything is so warm and sensitive to the touch. Yeah I could jerk off, and I will as soon as I finish typing this post but I really want someone to touch me. I want to touch someone and engulf them in my flame. I just wanna bury my dick deep inside someone and send shockwaves of passion throughout their body, a sensation at which they would moan and say my name. I just wanna watch my dick go in and out. I just wanna shoot my nutt all over someone, is that too much to ask? Fuck. This is what totally sucks about being single. I wish I had a boyfriend but I'm not gonna whine about that shit this morning.

So it's settled, I'm just gonna jerk off. Hopefully I can leave it at that, hopefully.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Take Care"
by Janet Jackson
from the album "20 Y.O."
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

You'd think that with all the stuff I've shared with y'all I would have told this story eons ago, but this morning when I was brushing my teeth, looking in the mirror I realized that I never shared this with y'all.

Due to my numerous sex-ploits most people who meet me think that I must have been fuckin' since I was ten. Actually, it's quite the contrary my friends. I did not have sex, any kind of sex, oral, anal, penetration, with a guy or girl until I was twenty years old, only four and a half years ago. I didn't even kiss a guy until I was 20. Yeah, let's just say that I've made up for a lot of lost time in the past few years. While a lot of you homos kissed, bumped, grinded, and fucked your way through your teenage years, in many ways cultivating your confidence as a gay man, I was too busy crying to God so that he could take this "gay demon" out of me that everyone convinced me I had and when I wasn't doing that I was contemplating suicide.

One major part of me snapping out of that whole self hatred thing was meeting my first love. In retrospect I guess I couldn't say that we quote-unquote "loved" each other but the feelings between us were very strong. He was my first kiss, with a guy, the first time I had sex, period (I've never had sex with a female, and never really wanted to, like hello, I'm gay). He was my everything and I'll never forget him. By a total fluke we ended up connecting with each other again via MySpace back in July. I'm in Harlem now and he's still in Brooklyn. We haven't seen each other in four and a half years but he's doing well.  He knew that he was my first even though he still doesn't quite believe me. It was good talking to him though, reflecting on old times. He's one of the people that helped make me the person I am today. Depending on who you ask that can be considered a good or a bad thing. But I digress. In this series of blog posts, "My First "Love"", I will tell the story of him and I.

One night I was at home on my computer, logged into BGC (BlackGayChat/BGCLive, a dating, friendship, sex hookup website). I can't quite remember how I found out about BGC but I managed to get an account there. BGC was cool to me because even though I was a virgin, I knew I was gay, but I didn't actually know any other gay people. BGC gave me a chance to see other gay men in their natural habitat. The profiles with the naked pictures didn't hurt either. At that point in my life I'd never seen another man naked, outside of porn. So seeing real guys my age showing themselves off was really hot. I even had some dick pics on my profile. And even now that I'm offline, four and a half years later I'm sure that my old BGC dick pics are still floating around somewhere in cyberspace (I'd know that head anywhere). At that time I wouldn't dare put my face on BGC. I actually only started doing that shit like a year and a half ago. And even with that you'll never find a fully nude picture of me, with my face showing on the internet. Kiddies take this piece of advice from a retired internet hook up professional: Your dick/ass/vagina should NEVER, I repeat NEVER be in the same picture as your face. Face pics and pics of private parts should ALWAYS be two separate entities. You never know, one day you may run for president or something and that shit will come back to haunt you, but at least if there's no face attached you can always deny, deny, deny. I digress.

So I was in the chat room on BGC one night and there was this guy there, let's call him Tony, who was making fun of everybody's pics on their profile. He was being really cruel too and even though I was laughing at his jokes I was scared that he was gonna come for me next so I quietly slipped out of the chat session. A few minutes later he hit me up on AIM and told me who he was and started talking to me. I was kinda shocked by it all and wondering why he had this sudden interest in me. So we chatted back and forth on the internet and eventually ended up exchanging numbers. That night we ended up having phone sex. It wasn't the first time I ever masturbated with someone over the phone but it was the first time that I took control of it and explicitly told the other person what I wanted to do to them. I've always had a really vivid imagination so I was a natural at phone sex. It's funny because even then I was the top.

I know, It's weird for a lot of people, but for me, coming into gay sex, even doing it for the first time I always knew where I belonged. I'm a top. I was the top, Tony was the bottom. He knew that, all of my dates know that (except for this one). It's not even something that has to be asked. I guess it's just a certain vibe I give off and the vibe that I'm attracted to. An ex boyfriend once told me that he did not believe that there was a such thing as a quote-unquote "real" top until he met me. Out of curiosity I even tried the bottom thing before, nah, it's just not for me. I'm digressing again.

For the next few weeks this phone sex became our nightly, before going to bed ritual, that along with our talking on the phone for four to five hours at a time, sometimes breaking daylight. We talked about everything, from our families, to our jobs, to our dreams, and even a future with one another (oh, to be that innocent again). We even had, and had make up phone sex, after our first argument. At that time Tony and I had never met it was as though I knew him and he knew me, like we were together, like boyfriend and girlfriend, or boyfriend and boyfriend, or lovers, or whatever it was supposed to be. And even though to actually be with Tony the way we planned over the phone, I knew we'd have to face insurmountable odds but none of that mattered those endless nights on the phone with him. Talking with him I slipped into a place where I was finally free, free to be myself and share my real self with someone else. Talking to Tony, I floated high above the pain and the stress of my mediocre, quotidian existence. He was the first person to ever experience the romantic side of me.

The more and more we talked, the closer and closer we got, it was killing me to not be able to see him. We'd let trivial circumstances and insignificant obligations stand in our way for far too long. One Saturday night I'd had enough and I demanded to see him. He obliged. So I slipped away from my group of friends, giving them some bullshit excuse about a friend from school needing homework help and I went to see him, Tony, my destiny.

He actually didn't live too far from me. We both lived in Brooklyn at the time and he was only about 20 minutes away by bus. When I got off the bus to meet him I remember the night being warm and him being taller than I thought, like two inches taller than me. We met, we gave our salutations and exchanged our pleasantries. During our phone conversations I learned that Tony was a huge Brandy fan. The night we met I gave him my autographed "Full Moon" CD that I stood for hours in the cold for on the day it was released. He accepted it and thanked me and we sat on a park bench in awkward silence.

It was so crazy because we'd been so expressive during our countless hours of phone conversation. We talked about our hopes, our dreams, our future, our fantasies, we busted nutts together and now we meet and there's, there's... silence, like what the fuck? So in an attempt to break the ice I suggest that we go to a local diner. We get there, we sit down, I ask Tony if he wants anything, he says no. I order a slice of strawberry shortcake (my all time favorite dessert) and we sit there, in silence. Now I'm nervous. Does he like me? Is he not feeling me? Just then, in the middle of one of my feeble attempts at small talk I reach over and knock my complimentary glass of ice water all over myself. How embarrassing? Here I am on my first date with a guy and I'm totally fucking it up.

We walk out of the diner and it starts pouring down raining, can this fuckin' evening get any fuckin' worse? Sensing that this date is basically over and the last few weeks had been a total waste of time, I made my way toward the bus stop. Tony walks over with me and stands there with me. We stood huddled together in silence under his small umbrella on the south east corner of that busy intersection, watching people run for shelter from the sudden rain, in silence. As I looked up and into his eyes I wanted to kiss him. But back then I didn't have the balls to do some shit like that, even though in retrospect, we coulda got away with it. It wasn't like there was anyone out there anyway. The bus came and as I entered I noticed that he was right behind me. Alrighty, I wasn't sure what to think of this. So I guess he did like me since he was gonna ride with me home and everything. We sat across from each other on the bus, damp, still in silence, but exchanging smiles every so often.

We get off the bus at my stop and walk toward my building. I'm not sure why exactly he was still tagging along as there was no way he was gonna meet Lydia (my mother and Jesus' unofficial cousin twice removed) that night, oh hayell nah! As cool as Tony was, he "looked" gay. And I was not secure enough in myself or my sexuality at that time to face the scrutiny that would come along with me being seen with him. He was in my hood now. It was kinda late so I wasn't so worried about being caught with him but I thought for sure that he was about to cross the street and take the bus back to his house. Isn't it funny how over the phone, dreams and speculations have you floating on air, light as a feather, but in person, reality is about as light as a ton of bricks?

We got to my building, he walked in behind me. Alrighty, we were now at the elevator, in silence. I pressed the up button as a swarm of butterflies fluttered violently through my stomach. I felt as though if I uttered a single word one would come flying out. We step into the elevator. As he stood in the back right corner, the tension mounted. Instead of pressing the button for my parents' third floor apartment I pressed next to the number 17. This was it. I'd been waiting for this all day, all night, all my life, and I was tired of playing it safe, tired of trying to please mama and daddy and everyone else. This was my life and I'll be damned if don't start living it. I didn't know what was gonna happen from that point on, whether the stars would fall from the sky or whether the Earth would swallow me whole and I'd fall into the pits of hell, but at that point I really didn't care, fuck it. I kissed him.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Kissing You"
by Faith Evans
from the "Waiting To Exhale Movie Soundtrack"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
You know how when you quit a job you'll still get checks from things like, unpaid hours, sick day hours etc., even weeks after you've left. This is something like that. As you know I have given up all of my online dating/hookup accounts a while ago. This is the story of the last person I met and hooked up with from there. It's the end of an era.

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

There was this guy I met online, on A4A actually, we'll call him Kyle. We started exchanging messages one Friday night at about 2am. We exchanged numbers and arranged a meeting for the even more wee hours of that morning. When we hung up from our conversation he told me that he'd be on his way. I was already tired and I fell asleep waiting for him. I woke up about four hours later, the sun was coming up and obviously he never showed. I hate it when that shit happens. He called with some flimsy ass bull shit excuse. From then on I dismissed him as just another one of those online fags who doesn't keep appointments. I didn't even bother saving his number in my phone. He wanted to reschedule but I didn't take him seriously, he'd already flaked out on me. He disappointed me when I was horny and vulnerable and I was done with him.

Throughout the next few weeks as you know I gave up the online thing and was dating and going about my life, learning to be without it. He would call, so much so that I knew from the first three numbers of his unsaved phone number that it was him. If I decided to answer the phone I'd keep it really brief. One night when he called, I was home alone and extra horny so I entertained him. I playfully and flirtatiously told him how much he'd "hurt" me and that "I cried" because he never showed up that morning. You know, spitting my proverbial "G". We ended up having phone sex that night. His moans sounded real good over the phone so I finally decided to saved his number, you know, just in case. I later found out that that number was a house number. Deal breaker! I refuse to mess around with a guy who does not have a cell phone, that's ridiculous. This is 2007. I am not tryna call and have to speak to ya mama, ya daddy, ya little sister and ya Aunt Esther before I speak to you. Nah, I'm good. Once I figured that out I told him that I was not going to be calling him.

After a few more calls from that house number, some I answered, some I didn't, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. It was Kyle, he called to tell me that he'd just gotten a cell phone. After I congratulated him for stepping into the new millennium he asked:

"So when am I gonna see you?"

Taken aback, yet pleased by his straightforwardness we set up a meeting at my house for that evening.

Late that night he came by. I was ready for him. In my boxers and wearing a wifebeater to cover my newly oiled body, I was horny and ready to fuck. When he showed up that night I noticed that he didn't look so much like his pictures, he wasn't ugly, but he wasn't fine either. He was definitely fuckable though, a six and a half, but at that point he could have looked like the Loch Ness Monster for all I cared. I wasn't fucking his face anyway (well, then again, you never know where the night could take us), that's what doggy style is for.

As he took off his shoes and laid down in my bed next to me, in an attempt to get comfortable, we stumbled through uncomfortable, awkward small talk, making comments about what was on TV, I guess in an attempt to rid ourselves of any traces of nervousness (even a damn near professional like me still gets nervous at times) and to somehow convince ourselves that this was something more than just a hookup, but deep down inside we both knew much better. Once we ran out of stuff to say Kyle turned over onto his left side slightly poking his ass in my direction. That was my cue to grind my dick up on him and kiss his neck. I obliged. He moaned and I felt his body start to relax.

Once I was fully erect I flipped him down on his back and positioned myself on top of him, between his legs. He unbuckled his belt and I slid his pants off, and then his underwear off, and then my underwear off. My hard dick flopped out, standing straight up like an obelisk. I lowered my body down onto his, my dick nestled between his ass cheeks and my tongue in his ear, he moaned louder. I love a moaner. I sucked his neck, sucked his nipples, nibbled at his sides, kissed around and down to his inner thighs, purposely bypassing his hardened dick 'cuz y'all know I don't give head like that. It's not like that was what he wanted anyway.

I slid my palms underneath his ass cheeks, lifted him up and ate him out, wagging my tongue around nice and slow, randomly darting in and out (of course you know I checked it out first). The moans got louder as I wrapped my arms around his thighs, pulling him into closer to me. The room echoes with his moans of:

"Damn, nigga damn, damn daddy damn..."

At that moment he made me feel invincible, like I could do anything. Just then I flipped onto my my back and nodded my head southward, giving the international sign for suck my dick. He took my dick into his mouth, sucking it ravenously, he even deep throated me (any 'ol body can't just up and do that) and that made my toes curl with enjoyment. I lifted his head from my crotch and laid him back down on his back.  I hadn't had my fill of tonguing him out yet. After a few moments on his back I withdrew my tongue from him and flipped him over. He got on his knees and spread his legs wide, pushing his ass up in the air, assuming a position I'm sure was all too familiar for him as I did what came as second nature to me. I spread his ass cheeks apart and continued to feast.

I ran my tongue up from the crack of his ass right down the center of his back and right up to his neck. As I pressed my body onto his, my weight flattening his limbs and pushing him down onto my bed I grinded my dick, so hard now that it was ready to burst between his ass checks and positioned the head right outside his moistened, throbbing hole. I whispered in his ear and asked:

"Are you ready for this dick?"

He responded and I reached to my left into the nightstand for my lube and 2 condoms. I lubed him and as my finger explored him it felt like it was drowning in a warm ocean, the warm sensation shot straight down to my awaiting dick, so hard that it was throbbing as I slid the condom on. I lowered my pelvis and hovered over him, he lifted his legs up and his eyes rolled back as I entered him. He felt so good wrapped all around me as I stroked in back and forth.

As the fucking got more intense he started moan and talk to me get louder and louder. Things got a little more aggressive and he started to moan and I talked back:

"Yeah daddy, hit this ass daddy... Damn that dick is good..."

"Yeah you like that? What's my name?"

"Adam..."

"Say my name baby..."

"Adam..."

"Who's ass is this?"

"It's all yours daddy, stroke this pussy daddy..."

Damn, Kyle stroked my ego just as much as I was strokin' that ass of his. He asked me to ride on top so we repositioned ourselves accordingly. As he slid down on top of my dick I held him by his waist in mid air so I could thrust in and out of him. As I thrusted he jerked his dick and threw his head back in ecstasy. A few moments later he came all over my stomach. As he laid down to catch his breath I repositioned myself over him and asked:

"Where you want this nutt at?"

I ripped off the condom and jerked my dick until it exploded everywhere, like a fire hose all over his stomach, chest and neck (don't sleep on those Kegel exercises). We cleaned off and caught our respective breaths, basking in the post-coital glow, while returning to our normal selves. He went to my bathroom and upon his return he asked me for a post-coital snack. Understandably so, as we'd both worked up an appetite.

He wanted junk food but unfortunately for him I don't keep that kinda stuff in the house. I made myself a quick spinach green and sliced turkey salad with a light vinaigrette, sprinkled with Bacos. I offered him some but he declined. I quickly devoured my salad and laid next to him in my bed. He turned his back to me and we laid there naked in the dim light of the television, spooning, with him falling asleep in my arms like we'd known each other all our lives.

A few hours that seemed more like a few moments later my alarm clock rang and it was time for me to get ready for work. Kyle hardly flinched as I reluctantly rose from the warmth of my bed into the cold morning air. I got ready for work going through my morning ritual, not missing a beat. When I stepped out of the bathroom to put on my clothes I saw that Kyle was awake and dressed. He went in the bathroom right behind me. As I stepped into my clothes I cut off the lights and the television. I turned on the radio as I always leave something on whenever I leave the house, a habit I picked up from my mother. Oddly enough, the song that was playing on the jazz station was Joan Osborne's cover of The Manhattans "Kiss And Say Goodbye".

The song continued to play as we readied ourselves to leave. He walked out first and I walked out behind him, locking the door. We walked down the stairs, together yet apart, in total silence. We exited my building and walked through the small courtyard out to the street. We greeted each other, almost simultaneously with a rather antiseptic "Later." Then we walked off in our separate directions. I never heard from him again.

That morning I said goodbye to Kyle but the real good bye was to the internet. This was literally the last time I fucked with it, or rather through it. I fucked and said goodbye. Sure I deleted my accounts 56 days ago today and I'm fine with it, not even tempted to go back, but that morning was the real end. No more random hooking up for me. Wow. it was much easier to let go than I thought. I remember a while back someone had mentioned the concept to me and my heart immediately filled with fear, my stomach rumbled with the flutter of a million butterflies. How was I to live without something I had never lived without? I was always online, I met my first online, and my second, and my third and just about everyone else who came along subsequently. What was I to do when I needed a quick, no strings, sexual pick-me-up, or when I was lonely or when my ego needed a good stroking? The idea terrified me then, but it doesn't now. I guess that's growth for ya.

Even though the sex with Kyle was great, he sucked dick like I like, he moaned like I like, he took dick like I like. But what I can't wrap my mind around anymore is how Kyle and I could do all the freaky stuff we did and just walk away. All of that moaning and talking and fucking was so fake, it was all an act. I wasn't his "daddy" and he damn sure wasn't my "baby". Sure our bodies enjoyed it and participated in it but our hearts sat out for the performance. I mean, hey, you know shit happens, I'm not saying that we should get married just because we had sex but we should at least know each other's last names. Kyle doesn't know a damn thing about me. He doesn't even know about this blog. he doesn't even know that he was the last person I met off the internet.

To read my thoughts back from earlier in this post:

  "...but at that point he could have looked like the Loch Ness Monster for all I cared, I wasn't fucking his face, that's what doggy style is for."

Damn. Look at what the fuck I've become, and what's crazy is how the shit so subtle. I never really saw what a monster I could be until now. Now that I think about all the dudes I've fucked all in the name of being horny, some I know good and damn well I would never be seen with out in the public. Shit, Kyle wasn't bad looking, at least I let him stay the night. What about all the ones I sent packing right after the sex or all the ones who tried to kiss me during sex and I turned my head away. Moral rule of thumb: If you refuse to kiss the person then you know damn well you shouldn't be fucking them. Well this is it. The last hoorah, my once more for the road, my goodbye kiss to the internet hook up. The nutt was good, the butt was good, but at the end of the day it's empty and in turn I'm left empty.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Kiss And Say Goodbye"
by Joan Osborne
from the album "Breakfast In Bed"
and
"One For My Baby (And One More For The Road)"
by Etta James
from the album "The Essential Etta James"
and
"One More For The Road"
by Lil' Mo
from the album "Pain & Paper"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

You all know I had/have a reputation as a whore. I'm working to change that, but in the minds of certain people, namely the few whom my promiscuous ways have hurt, I know it will probably never change. The damage has been done and any good public relations person will tell you that image and perception is everything. Fortunately I don't care so much about what strangers think about me. What sucks though is when your own friends don't believe that you're changing, but even that doesn't stress me as much as I thought. Fortunately the changes I'm making are for me and the nonbelievers will get in where they fit in, I guess.

What's really messed up though is whenever your friends like, or want to date, or are getting serious with someone they make sure to run the person's name past you so that you can cross reference your extensive database of sexual partners to see whether you fucked them before or not. As you may have guessed there have been a few matches. Now my friends are never mad about this or anything, I mean, that's just the way the life is, people fuck around, they fuck each other, some more than others, again that's just how it is. While I don't judge myself, or regret anything I've done, even in my whoriest of whoredom, I would be lying to myself if I didn't acknowledge that the fact that I've fucked a few of my friend's boyfriends back in the day isn't exactly the most ideal of circumstances. A lot of my friends though aren't exactly castrati choir boys themselves and they have laid their fair share of pipe sans-foundation as well. Upon finding a match in my database depending on the seriousness of the relationship they'll ask anything from "Was the ass good?" to "Is he crazy?" But knowing before hand is much better than actually meeting the person again and having to suffer through the awkward look, look away, look, look away game. I hate it when that happens.

I've fucked in my own bed, now I must lay in the wet spot.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Nothin' At All"
by Mya
from the album "Liberation"
==========

If you liked this post I'm sure you'll like this one too.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

So I was on a date with this guy once. We had been dating for a little while and I really liked him. We even had had sex a few times before, it was always great. At that time we hadn't seen each other in a few weeks. I missed him. I missed being around him but I was also horny as hell. We set up a date for the upcoming Friday night. Earlier that week as we talked on the phone and texted back and forth I was dropping pretty obvious hints that I was trying to get some on the night of our date. I basically said everything short of 'I wanna fuck you on Friday night.' I wasn't getting any objections to anything so I assumed all systems were go.

On Friday I assumed my "pre-I'm-getting-me-some-tonight-rituals" of masturbating only once (because as you've already read I masturbate at least twice a day, read that post here) early in the morning as to give my guys enough time to regenerate for the evening's activities, my Kegel exercises (if you don't know about them I suggest you Google them) because nobody likes it when you pop the cork and the champagne doesn't shoot out, I cleaned up the house, changed the sheets, I made sure my Glade Plug Ins Scented Oil Light Show was full because nothing is sexier than walking into a home that smells good. I think I even went to the gym that day. I was ready. I was a lean, mean, fucking machine. All that was left to do was to pick out an outfit, something that looked good but could be ripped off at a moments notice.

So Friday evening comes and we went out to a really nice dinner. Then we went to a club. Things were getting hot and heavy on the dance floor. There was some bumping and grinding, neck sucking, kissing, my dick was hard, everything was lovely. In the club the music was loud so I texted him saying something like "Let's get outta here and go back to my place." He was cool with it. I was excited. I was finally gonna get me some and from him, this guy who I really liked. As much as I sound like a horny dog right now I really did have feelings for this guy. As always, other sexual opportunities presented themselves but he was the one I really wanted.

All during the train ride home there was all this sexual tension. I just wanted to have him right there on the subway train. Obviously we're gay, so I couldn't even kiss the dude without having to fight somebody. Society... two dudes can't tongue each other down on a subway train without a bitch having something to say. Lemme stop, 'cuz gay or not gay I've never really been into PDA anyway.

We get back to my place, lights dim, smelling good, all this sexual tension bubbling over. We start kissing, the clothes somehow come off and we fall into bed. We suck, we lick, we grind, I eat, he's moaning, I eat, he's moaning, I grind, hes' moaning, I suck his neck, he's moaning, I eat, he's moaning, I tease him with the head of my dick, he's moaning, I reach for the nightstand drawer, he stops.

"I don't wanna have sex tonight?"

"Huh?"

"I don't wanna have sex tonight?"

"What?"

There's was no blood left in my brain at that point so I couldn't really reason past one word questions yet. I was starting to sound like 'Lil Jon.

"I don't wanna have sex tonight?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't feel good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

One of the worse things to happen to a man, especially a gay man, especially a gay man who is a top is to be left with the horrible, terrible, proverbial, blue balls. For a man to get his hopes up, touching, kissing, cuddling, rubbing, listening, paying for dinner, all for that moment when his throbbing hard dick can finally get the satisfaction that his body has been craving all night, all week, all month, all however long it was since the last time he got some, only to be denied at last second is, is, it's just fucked up! I can sit here and look back on all the dates I've made, and all the plans I've made, and all dinners I've paid for, and all the boring ass conversations I've had to sit through, and all the boring ass places I've been dragged to all in the hopes of tappin' that ass. Even with all this work put in whether I will really get some has always remained an uncertainty.

Well this is a new day people! You wanna talk? You want communication? Well dammit, let's talk, I'm ready to communicate. So I've decided rather than assuming, wishing, hoping and praying that I get some I'm just gonna come straight out and ask. I know it's new, it's radical, it's different. Most of our actions in a dating situation usually hinge on assumption, subtle suggestion and inference but lately I've been testing out a more straight forward approach.

The time came for me and this same dude to go out again and before I started doing extra Kegels and push ups and shit I figured that I needed to know what I was, or rather wasn't getting into, so I could govern myself accordingly. As you know I've never done this with someone I've dated before. A few nights before our next date I send a text:

"I've never been this direct before but fuck it... Ayyo, can we have sex Friday night?"

"Yeah that's pretty direct. What happened to ur mack game? Ur supposed to make me want to have sex with you, not ask for it. lol"

You see that. That's that inference, assumption bullshit. I can't make him "want" anything. We're both grown. Either he wants to or he doesn't... for the most part. I'm usually pretty convincing but even with that there ain't that much "mack game" in the world. I laid down much mack game on the last date and you see where that got me. I wasn't taking any chances this time.

"U already wanna have sex with me. I just need to know if it's really gonna happen or not."

"Yeah."

"Thanks :) You see how easy that was... lol"

"Lol yeah yeah"

"There's so many things I wanna do to you..."

"U gonna let me ride u?"

"Hell yeah..."

"Aight cool, can't wait. ;)"

You see how simple that was. Nice and straightforward. Now we have no crazy mismatched expectations from the date. We can go out, have a good time and know we're getting some at the end of the night. Even if he said that he didn't wanna have sex with me I could still govern myself accordingly, like I said. I wouldn't expect anything. The real horror of blue balls is not so much a physical, I'm just horny thing. It's the dashing of expectations and the feeling of rejection that makes it so tragic.

On a more serious note repeated episodes like that, especially in the context of a relationship can lead to the rejected partner (top or bottom) harboring deep resentment toward the other. It can also have damaging effects on that partner's self esteem. Remember, gay or not we're all men and a good portion of a man's self esteem is wrapped up in his sexual prowess. Now I'm not suggesting for a second that anyone does anything that they don't want to do but whenever you don't want to at least take the time to explain why so the other person understands where you're coming from.

===========
Playing In The Background...
"Put Me Down"
by Donnell Jones
from the album "Life Goes On"
and
Sean Paul
"(When U Gonna) Give It Up To Me" feat. Keyshia Cole
from the album "The Step Up Original Movie Sountrack"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

"Oh something missing, the golden shower pissin'.
All up in ya mouth, what? You think I'm kidding?"
-Lil' Kim
from the song "Queen Bitch Part 2"

There's been a lot of talk about water sports aka golden shower (peeing on your partner as a sex act) here lately. Ever since I wrote the post where I told the story about my ex who wanted me to pee on him (I didn't do it by the way, read that post here) it seems like everyone has been asking me about it. It's even been a subject brought up on my recent internet radio and internet TV appearances.

Besides being uncomfortable with it, another reason why I didn't engage in water sports with my ex was because I just simply didn't know how the whole process worked. Where do you do it? How do you do it? What am I aiming for? What exactly is he doing while I'm "showering him with my love?" In the original post I reached out to all of you asking if there is someone out there  who engages in water sports who could tell me how exactly it works. One of you, my lovely readers, emailed me back:

"There isn't any specific set of etiquettes. If someone asks you to give him a golden shower, and you feel like obliging him, then just ask him what exactly he wants done. Every person likes it differently. You gotta ask him to be specific. Although ultimately, for the sake of hygiene, this sort of stuff should be done in a bathroom. Don't even try it on the bed with a plastic sheet cover. Shit don't work like that. How am I supposed to clean my wood floor?

And likewise, at least speaking from personal experience, I know the whole "peeing thing" is definitely not everybody's cup of tea (and I think other fans of "water sports" know this too). So I don't get upset if a person says "no" to me.  If you're not into it, well, c'est la vie. Just say no. If the other person has a sane head on his shoulder, he'd be fine and he'll live and won't get upset. If he throws a tantrum... well, then... he's gotta go!

My boyfriend sometimes wouldn't be in the mood for it, and he'd just say "no". Okay, I'd give it an honest effort and beg him 'cuz he's my boyfriend. I'd be laying inside the bathtub and all, but sometimes he just ain't in the mood. Well, what can you do? Life goes on."
-An AdamsWebLog.com Reader

Even though I still have a myriad of questions, this does at least begin to enlighten me on this whole concept. I also want to apologize to this reader and to all the 'golden showerers' out therefor sounding so judgmental about it when I was asked about it in the "Flawless" video. Who am I to judge you? Again, I apologize.

So in future posts if I ask for your help on something, please don't hesitate to hit me up. And as always if you have something to say about something I post here feel free to make a comment by clicking on the "Comments" link after each post.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Queen Bitch Part 2"
by Lil' Kim
from the album "Notorious KIM"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Hey everybody,

I have been picked by the very funny, very talented Nathan "Seven" Scott, executive producer of the wildly popular YouTube series "The & Show" as "The 7 Magazine's: Flawless Man Of The Month" for November 2007. This award is given to movers and shakers and up-and-comers like me in the LGBT community who are doing their thing but incidentally are also not hard on the eyes. I'm very honored that I was chosen given both eligibility factors.

Last Saturday me, Nathan Seven and DJ Baker of the Da Doo-Dirty Radio Show did a photo shoot in Brooklyn at some abandoned train tracks. Those pictures will be featured on "The 7 Magazine" website in November. In the meantime you can check out this YouTube video showing behind the scenes footage from the photo shoot. Hopefully I didn't look too nervous. Seven and DJ are crazy! It was so much fun.

Also check out "The & Show" on YouTube, it's hilarious!

Just in case you have a problem playing the embedded video here here's the YouTube direct link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxTwrWH6mqI

LINKS:
- "The 7 Magazine"
- "The & Show"

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Yummy"
by Gwen Stefani
from the album "The Sweet Escape"
========== 

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (1)

As you know I have given up the whole online dating, sex, hookup thing (read about that in this post). When I told my best friend Mike that I had deleted my BlackGayChat/BGCLive, Adam4Adam, and Men4Now accounts and haven't been online in 22 days, 6 hours, and 29 minutes (it's not like I'm counting or anything) he didn't believe me. I mean, okay, yes, among my friends I had a reputation of being very... well, a whore. I personally don't like that phrase, I think it's ugly, but that's probably the word that they would use. And being said whore the internet was my bottomless... wait, scratch that, that's definitely not the word, it was my... endless, that's a better word, supply of casual sex whenever I wanted it, needed it, or was really bored. But with that gone I haven't been having sex much lately and have gotten back really really tight with an old friend, masturbation.

It's not that I ever stopped masturbating. It has always been a routine part of my life as I jerk off at least once but more often twice a day whether I'm sexually active or in a relationship or not, but now I'm doing it more than ever before. Actually I'm at work now typing this blog post and as soon as I'm done I'm gonna go buy one of those little travel-sized, overpriced, tubs of Vaseline and go jerk off in the bathroom real quick. Oh, don't look at me like that, it's not like you haven't done it. I'll wash my hands afterwards. I know to some of you it sounds crazy but sometimes I can't wait until I get home. I'm horny now and when I'm horny it's hard to concentrate. Even now my dick is at half mast and I'm wearing slacks. Something must be done.

Taking jerk off breaks away from home isn't a new thing for me though. My earliest memory of it was playing with my dick through the pockets of my jeans in the back of class in high school. Sometimes I would cum all down my leg and I'd be sticky all day. I realize that that probably wasn't my best idea so when I get that feelin' I usually head to the nearest bathroom.

I remember going to visit my aunt's house down south every year when I was younger. We would stay down there for a week or two weeks at a time and just like a diabetic takes their insulin and a single woman takes her birth control pills masturbation was an integral part of my daily routine and it definitely wasn't gonna just stop because I was away from home. There was this one time that I was masturbating in my aunt's bathroom after a shower and I ejaculated into the sink. The water's running and I'm thinking that that's a good way to get rid of the evidence, to wash it down the river, so to speak. Well, what I failed to realize was that my auntie had put a little metal net in her drain I guess in an effort to prevents clogs and catch hairs and earrings and other little things that can fall into an open drain. One thing the package probably didn't say when she bought it was that it was great at catching coagulated sperm as well. As I was about to walk out of the bathroom I looked down and noticed all of this white sticky stuff coating the drain net. I pick it up and realized that it was my coagulated sperm. So I spent the next fifteen minutes pulling sperm strings from it. Which if you've ever been in a situation where you've had to remove coagulated sperm from anything you'd know it's harder than Chinese arithmetic. As annoying as that was I'm glad that I realized it before another family member came to use the bathroom, imagine trying to explain that one.

One of the things I love most about me is that when I cum, I shoot. I'm veering off subject here but I actually can't take too much credit for that, the shooting thing, that is because it's not an ability I was born with. I owe that skill along with a lot my sexual stamina and prowess to doing Kegel exercises. I read about them in a sex book when I was like fourteen and have been doing them ever since. They're great, great for men, great for women, great for everybody, Google them. Anyway, yes I shoot when I cum. In a hot steamy sexual encounter it's a blessing, but when you're like sixteen tryna get a quick nutt off, looking out just in case your mom opens your bedroom door it can be a curse.

There was this one time when I was young, it was New Year's Eve and as usual my family was going to church for watchnight service. I laid the suit out that I was gonna wear on the bed. Suddenly I felt the urge, so I sat back in a chair and decided to bust my last nutt of the year. I jerked off until that shit just shot out everywhere. It was great, I made my own balls drop on New Year's Eve. Then I looked over and I saw a white streak of cum right on my suit jacket. Looking at it I could tell it was the first stream too, nice, thick, and long. I panicked. How was I gonna explain this to my Mama aka Jesus' cousin? "Ma, see what had happened was. I was jerking off thinking about boys and nutted all over my church clothes." Yeah, that woulda went over well. So I ran to the bathroom and used everything I could to get that stain out. Thankfully I did, that was a close one.

Masturbation mishaps unfortunately didn't end when I became an adult. Last winter my best friend Russell came up from down south and stayed with me. When he stays at my house we sleep in the bed together (No hanky panky... at least not anymore, You know we had to at least try each other out the first time. Like y'all ain't never tried out a friend before... whatever). Though I hardly had any sleep I woke up a little early for work that morning and as usual my sequoia was standing erect, jutting up majestically from the forest floor, I was horny, but lazy and somewhat half asleep. I know Russell, who was laying on my right with his back turned to me, was sound asleep because we had just gotten home from the club only three hours earlier. Then I looked to the left and saw that the lotion was right there on the floor (where I keep it). So I thought to myself 'hey lemme bust this nut real quick, Russell's asleep, he ain't gon' know'. So I slowly and quietly pulled my dick out lubed it up and jerked it under the covers at a 45 degree angle. Russ didn't move, so I pulled the covers back and jerked out in the open at a 90 degree angle. Then he moved, so I stopped and waited for him to settle. I jerked some more and then he moved again. I stopped. Then he got up to go to the bathroom. I seized the opportunity and jerked wildly quickly busting my morning nutt. When he returned to bed I greeted him and got up and got ready for work like nothing happened.

Later that day we were all hanging out somewhere, Me, Russell, Mike and some of our other friends when he said to me:

"Adam, you so fuckin' nasty!"
Russel scolded playfully.

"What you talkin' about?"

"I knew what you were doing this morning..."
I bust out laughing.
"That's why I went to the bathroom."

"How did you know?"
I asked because he never looked at me at the whole time.
"I did it real light, the bed wasn't moving was it?"

"No! I could hear the sound of the lotion and ya hand sliding up and down ya dick!"

Wow. I didn't know it was that loud. I'm circumsized, I usually like a lot of lube when I jerk off. Me and Russell still laugh about that morning to this day.

This is gonna sound conceited as hell but the reason why I think I jerk off so much is because I'm attracted to me. I turn me on. If I saw me in a club I would definitely try to holla at me. I would take me home and kick my best game to me in a effort to fuck me. And if I were me, well, yeah I am me, even though I am a top I would so let I fuck me. When I'm in the shower all lathered up and feeling on me I very rarely resist the temptation to jerk off. I love the feeling of my dick in my hand, it's such a nice caramel brown and it's heavy with the prettiest mushroom head. When it's hard I like to even like to pinch it under the brim and smack it up against things.

When I step out of the shower I love the way I look standing in front of my sink with my dick in my hand. looking at my chest and my abs and my arms. I'm not Mr. Perfect Body or am the biggest and buffest dude out there but I have my share of cuts and I'm proud of them. I worked hard for every one of them. When I jerk off in front of my sink in the morning (sans drain net) I like to watch my muscles tense, relax and flex as I pleasure myself. I like to see and practice the faces I make (y'all know y'all practice too). The best part though is watching the cum shoot from my own dick, that's hot. Masturbation and being turned on by me has really taught me to love myself in a new way.

Being with myself in such an intimate way has helped me understand that masturbation though viewed as something nasty and sinful in most religious circles is anything but. For me it's actually an almost spiritual experience. I totally understand now what Tweet meant in "Oops Oh My" and what Britney Spears meant in "Touch Of My Hand". I'm learning that for women masturbation is more about the journey than the destination. Women masturbate to find what out exactly what turns them on, what makes them feel beautiful and sexy and the actual orgasm though impending is secondary. For men it's all about busting a nutt. Women unlike men don't view masturbation as the circumstance of not having or losing someone. They see it as an opportunity to find themselves. Maybe that's why even though I'm not having as much sex as I used to jerkin' off is pretty aight. I have my moments but I'm actually pretty good right now. I'm finding myself. Now that I've figured it all out I'm about to go "find myself" all over that bathroom stall.

==========
Playing in The Background...
"Jerk"
by Next feat. 50 Cent
from the album "Welcome II Nextasy"
and
"Oops, Oh My"
by Tweet
from the album "Southern Hummingbird"
and
"Touch Of My Hand"
by Britney Spears
from the album "In The Zone"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 02:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

"...If only I could let you go, why do I need you so?
It's amazing what a boy can do, I cannot stop myself.
Wish I didn't want you like I do, want you and no one else..."

"...If only I could set you free, you worked your way inside of me.
It's amazing what a boy can do, I cannot stop myself.
Wish I didn't want you like I do, want you and no one else..."

"...It's amazing what a boy can say, I cannot stop myself
Seems I love you more than yesterday, love you and no one else."
-Madonna
from the song "Amazing"

When I first head this song on Madonna's "Music" album back in 2000 it was just a song, a good song, but just a song nevertheless. I would sing along to "Amazing" bopping my head to the beat and the guitars like it was nothing. It wasn't until I got into my first of a string of unhealthy, uneven, fucked up relationships that these words really started meaning something. That's when I learned that it really is amazing what a boy can do and what's even more amazing is the dumb shit that I would do and the ridiculous lengths I would go to keep said boy.

A few years ago I had ago I had an ex, we'll call him Jack. Jack and I met online. We talked on the internet for a while then we exchanged numbers and had some really hot phone sex after which he told me that he was from Brooklyn but living in a city about 1,100 miles away at the time, going to school. He seemed cool but I never saw the point of getting all wrapped up in somebody who was long distance so I basically stopped talking to him after that. He called a few times though and I just didn't bother answering the phone. Why should I? He wasn't here. What the fuck were we gonna do, have more phone sex? At that time I was too interested in real sex to want to acquire another long distance phone sex buddy. I had enough of those already.

He texted me about a month later and asked me if I remembered him, surprisingly I did. He told me that he'd be in the city soon. I told him to hit me up when he got into town, cutting our text convo short. As I  stated I really didn't have any patience to talk to long distance dates, even the ones that say they're coming to town. I'll believe it when I see it, that was my philosophy.

Obviously he did end up coming to town, he called me and we scheduled a meeting. When we met in person we discovered that we had gone to high school together but didn't know each other as we didn't hang out in the same circles. Jack was my type but I wasn't immediately attracted to him. As the night went on though he became sexier and sexier. Now that I think about it, it's probably because he took that damn durag he was wearing off his head. I hate when dudes where those things outside.

That night we hung out with his friends. They were real cool and we all were just walking through Brooklyn together talking and laughing, enjoying the warm night. Occasionally jack and I would exchange a lustful, flirty glance or two. I was feeling him but I couldn't help but feel like I was being reeled in somehow, not that he was a con artist or anything but from some of the stories his friends shared and from some of his mannerisms and things he said I picked up that breaking hearts wasn't a foreign thing to him. I made a note to myself not to go too fast too soon, to feel his ass out first, figuratively and literally. I remember we were sitting on the stoop of his friend's house when he gave me the naughtiest little look and texted me:

"Take the bus home with me so I can suck your dick."

My dick hardened with anticipation. I was excited and most definitely planned on being on that bus with him. He lived out of my way but fuck it, some things are worth going a little out of your way for sometimes. As I walked him home from the bus stop early that next morning I thought that he may have forgotten the promise he made me only a few short hours ago. I wasn't gonna stress it. I was having a good time with him and would even settle for just a kiss from him. I didn't care what we did I just wanted to be alone with him. All of our subliminal flirting got me so hot and bothered.

When we got to his, well, really his parent's house I walked him in and closed the front door behind me. We were in a small foyer area between the front door and a door that led to the rest of the house. I realized he hadn't forgot. After a few minutes of pleasantries and nervous conversation we kissed and it was fireworks. As our bodies were pressed against each other I groped him. His body felt so good in my hands, his back, his waist, his ass that I gripped and massaged forcefully with both hands. He tugged at my belt, freed my rock hard dick from me jeans, gripped it at the base got down on his knees and said:

"It's even bigger in person."

Then he began to lick, suck, kiss  and deep throat my dick like we were in love and this was our first anniversary, not like he had only met me only six hours ago. He devoured me with no fear or inhibition. He sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body so strong I could hardly stand up. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better he stood up, bent over and said:

"I want you to fuck me."

I dropped to my knees and feasted on his ass as he moaned and squirmed. I wanted to get him lubed up enough so that I could fuck him. Surprisingly I had no lube or condoms on me as I'm usually prepared for dates but who knew the night would turn out like this. I stood up, took my rock hard dick and smacked both his ass cheeks with it and made an attempt to enter him. It didn't work. I was too big to get inside of him without lube. Once we both realized that intercourse wasn't gonna happen, which was the best thing seeing that I didn't have a condom, he took my dick back into his mouth and sucked it ravenously until I ejaculated down his throat. As I tried to regain my composure he stood back up, kissed me, and invited me back over later to chill and of course to fuck.

Later that day I came back over, we chilled and talked and as we conversed I learned more about him. I even started to vaguely remember him from high school. I also remember why we never associated back then. He used to hang with the gay crowd, I didn't. At that time I was not that confident in my sexuality and even if I were I definitely didn't have the balls to hang with the gay crowd, not that I wanted to anyway. One thing led to another and we ended up having glorious, passionate, raw sex. Of course I know fucking raw is risky and just plain wrong, especially nowadays. I was going against my better judgment by doing it but he didn't like condoms and I liked him so I did it.

I remember how I had him in missionary position on the bed stroking him slowly but steadily making his bed creak with every thrust of my pelvis. The looks of pleasure on his face was so beautiful that I couldn't keep my eyes off him. In an effort to quiet things down as his mother was in the next room Jack stopped me and laid out a sheet on the floor and we proceeded to have sex down there. I remember that being some of the best sex of my life. Not because it was raw, but because of him. I wanted him so bad, he was so alluring and sexy to me. I liked him but I also sensed that he was a coquette who probably ate nice guys like me for lunch, I was trying not to fall, not to give him too much of myself but I couldn't help it, it was euphoric. To hear the vulnerability in his quiet moans and feel him grip my body so tightly as I went deeper inside of him was amazing. It gave me hope that maybe he was different, maybe he could be the one. I was falling for him.

From then on we spent just about every day of those next few weeks after that together and if we weren't together we were talking on the phone constantly. Due to lack of opportunity (we both lived at home at the time) we didn't even get to have sex again. Even so we had grown very closely very quickly and as usual in my life that spelled trouble. I didn't want things to end when he left. I told him that he was special to me and that even though we were gonna be apart it didn't mean we couldn't be together. We discussed it, scheduling, visiting, etc., and basically laid the ground work for a long distance relationship (I know, I know, don't look at me that way). The outcome of the arrangement was that we would see each other at least once a month between me going out there and him having school vacations and coming back home. It seemed at the time that our little arrangement could actually work.

So he left to go back to school and that same night I booked plane tickets and a hotel room for three weeks later. We were on the phone constantly for that three weeks. I'd be on the phone with him at work all night and on the phone with him at home everyday. He would tell me about his friends at school. I would talk to them. I would tell him about all that was happening at home. He would always tell me how much he missed me and how he couldn't wait to see me. I remember how we would send each other pictures back and forth and how I would look at his picture in my cell phone and smile and long for the day I would see him again.

As the day I was scheduled to leave was approaching the calls got less and less and I could feel him slipping away from me. Even when we did talk I could feel him backpedaling away from our original agreement. But even with that he was jealous when it came to me talking or seeing other people. Now that I think about it that's probably why he kept me on the phone all damn night all the time. While he was stuck in some hick town I was living here in New York, 'the fine ass ethnic men's capital of the world'. What's crazy is that with all the men here to choose from I only wanted him and here he was casting me aside, but still wanting me to be faithful to him.

He was really hurting me so in an effort to ease my pain I did the only thing I knew how. I went out and got my dick sucked by somebody else. As fucked up as it was, knowing that someone else in this world was attracted to me gave me this temporary pseudo-strength I felt I needed to deal with this situation. Like Popeye, you know, the sailor man? Popeye is to spinach as Adam is to getting his dick sucked, that was my spinach.

As the days passed things only got worse and worse. I wanted to just cancel the whole thing and maybe start something with the kid that had sucked my dick a few days prior. But I had already scheduled the time off work and paid for non-refundable plane tickets and a part of me still wanted to see Jack. All I could think about was the time we spent together and the way I fucked him on the floor of his bedroom, that shit was so amazing. I really wanted to be with him. Needless to say I was panicking. Not only was this hurting my heart, it was wasting my time, and even worse than that, it was costing me money. As much as I wanted him he was pissing me the fuck off.

The night before I was scheduled to leave I was at work and we got into a big argument after which I decided 'Fuck you, fuck this, fuck it! I'm not going'. He basically told me in a nutshelI that I'm basically on my own in his town. That if I saw him I saw him, if I didn't I didn't. He wasn't even gonna stay in the hotel with me. What the fuck was I gonna do in a city that I have never been too, don't know anybody in, and don't know a motherfuckin' thing about? Was he serious? This was no vacation, I was coming to see him. I remember him being such an asshole about it too. He was so aloof. He didn't care that I was putting my whole life on hold to come see him. He made it seem like this was all my big idea, as though we hadn't talked about and agreed to this. Now that I think about it, what the fuck did he have to lose here? We were the same age but here I was working my ass off making a pretty good living for a 22 year old while he was a broke ass college student who was gonna be coming to New York back and forth during holidays regardless. His obligation to me was no more than a bus ride across town while I'm flying across the country. I was the one making all the sacrifices in this deal we made and now he wants to pull the fuck away, ain't that a bitch! Granted, yes I was stupid to think that a homosexual that I knew for only about a month and a half at that time would do something crazy like honor his word.

What was so crazy and hurtful was that I wondered how much of what he was saying this and doing this whole time was real? Was he just faking it the whole time? And If he was faking, why would he? Why is even pulling away like this? What happened, what did I do? As much as I wanted answers to these questions I sure as hell wasn't gonna call his ass back and ask, fuck that. Now is the time for action.

So I canceled the hotel and the plane tickets. The airline said that I could keep half the money I paid for the tickets on hold, something like a store credit. I told my best friend Russell, who lives in a city about halfway between me and Jack the situation and he suggested that I take the bus down and come visit him since I had the time off, I agreed. I also made plans to visit my sisters, who I hadn't seen in a while and happened to live only 90 minutes west of Russell in an effort to kill two birds with one stone.

I'm on the bus in Newark, New Jersey, about 20 minutes outside New York and my cell phone rings and of course it was Jack. I had been ignoring all of his phone calls since the argument and didn't bother to tell him that I was not coming to see him. I thought my hanging up on his fallacious faggot ass would have implied that. But I decided that I wanted to revel in the pleasure of telling him that I wasn't coming, as though he would actually care. I answered. He got on that phone and cried and sobbed like a baby and apologized for everything he said and damn near begged me to come see him. I melted like a suppository in the crack of somebody's ass. I ended up going to see Russell but I cut that trip short and due to time restraints cut my sisters out altogether. I got a refund for my bus tickets to my sister's place and back to New York, bought a new more expensive, last minute plane ticket from Russell to Jack and used the credit I had on hold for a new flight home. I called the hotel and begged them to reinstate my employee rate. All of this costing me more money.

Three days later arrived in Jack's city. I got myself settled and armed with a bus map of the city that I had been studying for the last two weeks I went to pick Jack up from school. And there he was, just as fine as I remembered. Seeing him just made everything okay, the argument, the canceled tickets, the money, everything. We had sex again that next night and it was amazing again. We also fucked raw again which of course is wrong on so many levels. I know I don't talk much about the HIV and STD's on my blog but please don't fuck raw. Every time I think about the times I did it (mostly when I first came out and didn't know any better I cringe). If you're currently practicing raw sex please stop.

All during the trip he would introduce me to people as his "friend", even at the club we went to where dudes were flirting with him left and right. When I questioned him about that and exactly what the status of our relationship was he hit me with the ol' "We're still not in a relationship." one, two sucker punch to the gut. After flipping the bill for everything on that trip, food, the club, cabs, etc. This nigga never even opened his wallet, but I guess you can't pay for anything with cobwebs. Needless to say, I was emotionally and financially spent. I wasn't even so much hurt, I was numb and more importantly low on cash. I just came to the conclusion that this was it. It was over. At least I got my nutt off, right? And now I don't have to sit and wonder what could have been. Jack is officially an asshole, one that feels great stretched out around my dick, but an asshole nevertheless. I fucked him but he flipped me over and ended up fucking me... again, right in between the ventricles.

Oh by the way, I hope you didn't think it was over. So when I got back to New York I made a conscious effort not to speak to Jack. I got with the kid that sucked my dick and of course that ended. Soon after I found my way back to Jack's house and in his bedroom back at the scene of the crime. I found myself in his bed, again, quietly fucking him raw, again (see, you have to stop that shit before it becomes a habit), under his manipulative spell again. I was a little wiser the third time around and did not press any type of commitment or relationship issues. I kept it strictly as sex but I know that if he would have wanted me to I would have still dropped everything to be with him.

Eventually with some time contemplation and deliberate and complete avoidance (sometimes it takes just that) I totally got over Jack. I started to see him for the bullshitter that he was. I don't hate him at all, we'll still communicate via MySpace every once in a while. I've even seen him in the club a few times and he'll flirt with me and it does nothing. I'm totally over him now and when I see him I wonder how I ever got so far under him in the first place and how I ever let him manipulate me the way he did. I also wonder how I fell so deep for Jack and thought that things could actually work with him after knowing him for ten minutes. It truly is amazing what a boy can do, both boys involved.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Amazing"
by Madonna
from the album "Music"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I like phone sex, not $4.99 a minute, you're only doing this because you can't get a real date phone sex, no, no, nothing like that. I'm talking about hot, steamy, worry-free phone sex with people you'd actually have real sex with but unfortunately you live hundreds, even thousands of miles away from each other and are not nearly naive enough to even make an attempt at a long distance relationship. It's great, no muss, no fuss. We carry on our regular everyday lives and even go in and out of relationships and dating spells and our good ol' phone sex buddy always remains only a phone call away. I know there are people who say 'Why bother with phone sex? It's not the real thing anyway.' That's like asking why bother with masturbation? Who amongst us doesn't bother with that from time to time to time to time? Phone sex is like a masturbation upgrade, Masturbation 2.0, if you will. It's hot, it's audibly voyeuristic, and it won't ever send you running to the clinic, well, I guess that depends on who used the phone before you.

In my life I've had quite a few phone sex buddies, a lot of them being long term over the span of years. Because we go into our phone sex friendship knowing that there's not any possibility of an actual relationship we've already removed the drama and expectations that mess up most tangible relationships. And because the friendship only lives over the phone my phone sex buddies and I have even gone so far as to talk openly and freely about who were dating in our respective vicinities and even give each other advice and it's no big deal. No one's jealous, no one feels slighted, we both know our place, we don't expect more than what we have over the phone. We realize that our tangible relationships always come first. Sometimes we'll talk once a day, sometimes for whatever reason we may let weeks or months may pass without us talking but because we're friends it's easy to pick right up where we left off. Of course there is always the possibility of us meeting and doing something tangible with each other but it's not something we dwell on or even believe or expect so much. Like tangible friendships and relationships every phone sex friendship is different. Let's explore some of mine.

Phone Sex Buddy #1 lives about 600 miles away. We met on AOL over eight years ago and have been talking on the phone ever since. I was 16 and he was 17 the first time we talked and from day one we just clicked. Back then, we were both struggling with our homosexual feelings at the time and I think that even though we never talked about it then we both sensed it in each other that's probably why we got to be so close. I could talk to him about anything and vice versa. We used to be on the phone all night long for six, seven, eight hours at a time. Our conversations weren't sexual at first but slowly but surely we got there. One night we masturbated together over the phone, not talking dirty to each other but listening to each other grunt and moan (that shyt used to be so hot back in the day) we continued and we got to the point where we would time things so we could both cum at the same time. We tried our best to call it everything but gay (every time I think about that I laugh). We just resigned ourselves to simply calling it "that thing we do." Our little late night secret that we only shared with each other (as nobody knew about either of us at the time) really strengthened our bond. After we lost contact for a year or so we picked up where we left off (not talking everyday like we used to though) and ended up finally coming out to each other. Even though I have never touched him and only have seen him in pictures he is way more to me than a mere phone sex buddy. He is one of my best friends. He knows me better than most of the people I see everyday. We're grownups now and I'm dating and so is he so obviously the phone sex aspect of our friendship isn't as important anymore. We are both super busy people in our respective cities and we keep promising each other that one day we'll finally meet.

Phone Sex Buddy #2 was from New York used to go to an Ivy League school about 300 miles away. We met on one of those online dating sites and it said on his profile that he lived in New York but he was actually living up there (don't you hate it when that happens). Disappointed, but still horny I decided, fuck it, let's have phone sex. The phone sex was hot so we kept it going. During phone sex, I'm not sure whether this is a top thing or what, but I do basically all of the talking, vividly describing the situation, as I tell the other person what I want them to do to pleasure themselves. Their response to me would be through the moans and other sounds they make while their pleasuring themselves doing what I tell them to do (jerking off, fingering themselves, etc.). That's basically how things would go with him, but with him that's the only place they'd go. After that first time we had phone sex he really didn't like to talk much before of after. After exchanging normal conversational salutations and pleasantries he would dive right for my dick, so to speak and when we were done he would quickly rush off the phone. There was no friendship developing here, he was the phone sex equivalent of an anonymous guy you meet at the same time, in the same stall, at the same public restroom everyday to get your dick sucked (not that I've ever done anything like that, it's just an example, seriously), except that I actually knew his name. Sometimes he would call me in the middle of the night while he was up trying to write a paper so I could help him get a quick nutt off. He never knew this but sometimes I would have phone sex with him and not even be touching myself I would fake the whole thing. After a while he got vacation from school and came back in the city so we decided to meet up. He seemed a little weird upon meeting him in person, kinda like in that really smart guy who seems a little crazy and that you wouldn't be surprised is a part of a terrorist plot to blow up a landmark kinda weird. He had the house to himself while his parents were at work. We were in his room attempting to mess around and he was all jumpy and nervous, for obvious reasons I guess. Long story short, it was weird, he was weird, no I didn't fuck him, and we never talked again. Some things are better left in Fantasyville.

Phone Sex Buddy #3 is an enigma. He actually lives right here in New York but surprisingly we have never met. We met on the internet and like Phone Sex Buddy #2 I thought he was in New York but he wasn't. He works in a profession the requires him to travel a lot. We talk pretty sparingly and he'll hit me or I'll hit him out of the blue in the middle of the night and in true phone sex buddy fashion we'll continue right where he left off. The coolest thing about him though is that in his pictures he looks all rough and hood but when u get his ass goin' he starts hittin' high notes like Mariah Carey. That shyt is so fuckin' sexy. We have bullshitted our way through half-assed, haphazard, plans, actually talks of plans to meet up for the past two years we've been talking over the phone. For whatever reason it just never happened. In the beginning there were a few times we were really supposed to meet but he would cancel on me or I on him or something would come up (way more on his end than mine) and after a while I just gave up on that and decided to enjoy the phone sex for what it is. I figure after my experience with Phone Sex Buddy #2, maybe it's for the best, but I really did wanna fuck him though. We haven't talked in a while though and the way things are going we probably won't be talking again anytime soon.

I have other intermittent phone sex compadres with whom I keep in regular or rather not so regular contact with as we are all busy living our respective lives. But I know whenever I need them that they're just a phone call away.

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Playing In The Background...
"Phone Sex"
by Syleena Johnson feat. Twista
from the album "Chapter 3: The Flesh"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Have you ever been in the middle of sex with someone and that person said or did something that freaked you out a little bit? Have you ever said something during sex you wish you hadn't said or at least wish you hadn't said so soon? As much as we, the gays sometimes try to write off sex as a purely physical, I-just-wanted-to-get-my-nutt-off thing, and sometimes it is (hopefully for both, or all parties involved) we must realize that there is an emotional and psychological or dare I say even a spiritual element to it.

When we shed our layers of clothes to have sex we are also shedding many of the walls of protection we've put up for ourselves. You even notice how some guys can look all big and tough when they're all dressed up in their 'hood costume, baggy jeans, boots, Timbs, fitteds, etc., they're usually much less intimidating when they're naked. Even for guys with big muscles it's still harder for them to look tough naked than it would be if they were fully clothed. Have you ever had sex with someone who refused to be fully naked, someone who was ashamed of certain parts of their body? Or have you been with someone who wouldn't have sex with the lights on? To be naked with somebody is to be totally vulnerable. To enter someone or have them enter you is in many ways to trust them with your life and you with theirs. I'm learning that sex is a much bigger deal than I ever used to make it.

Being a gay male is a balancing act. Everyday of our lives we are trying to reconcile our more traditional male, macho traits with our more traditionally feminine traits all of us having varying degrees of one as opposed to the other. As much as we hate to talk about it we carry a lot of that role play into our bedrooms as tops, bottoms and versatiles. The tops usually being more dominant, the bottoms usually more submissive and the versatiles adjusting to whatever situation they find themselves in. As a top a good portion of my bottom sex partners have been a little on the feminine side in general, at least more than I am and usually are pretty submissive in the bedroom.

There are times though when I have been shocked at the extent of some of the more traditionally feminine things some of my sex partners have done or have liked to have done to them. Of course there are the high pitched moans, the whole calling me "Daddy." thing, even a little bit of ass slapping, and I'll even ask "Whose ass/dick is this?" here and there, that I have to say is hot, but pretty much normal. I have been in a few abnormal situations as well.

I can remember one ex, let's call him Jerry. Jerry was a strict bottom and was into rougher sex. He didn't like to have love made to him, he got off on being fucked, hard and fast. He liked being called a "bitch", he liked his hair pulled, he liked for me to refer to his ass "pussy", he liked being rough-housed and manhandled during sex. As I fell deeper for him I would try slower more sensual love making with him and he just wasn't into it. He'd say "Fuck me daddy!" and even go as far as to reach for my waist in an effort to move me faster in and out of him. Some tops would love this sort of thing and I guess it can be hot at times but I'm not into inflicting pain and degradation on my sex partners and I always had the feeling that his desire to be fucked all the time was as a result of being mentally scarred from a traumatic past experience. I was right. Hopefully he can find or has found the help he needs to deal with that.

I had another ex, let's call him Vincente who out of the blue one night had a rather strange request of me. He's a bottom as well but I guess this particular request can't really be characterized as either top or bottom:

Vincente: "I have something to ask you. It may sound a little weird."

Adam: "Okay... what is it?"

Vincente: "Well I was wondering... no, nevermind..."

Adam: "What baby, what you gotta ask me?"

Vincente: "Well, I was wondering if you could pee on me?"

Adam: "Ummm, I, I don't have to go..."

Okay, the urination thing, I'm not judging at all but I really don't understand it. Not just from a mental and psychological standpoint but from a physical standpoint. How does the etiquette work? Do you break out the plastic sheets and do it on the bed? Do you lay in the tub? And where would I aim, for the body, for the face, for the mouth? Would he then rub it on yourself? Would he lick it? Would he drink from my dick like a water fountain? Would he swallow it? (If someone can break this down for me please email me and I will post it up on the blog to so we all can understand. I of course will not give out your identity.) I know most of us have had at least limited or even accidental experience with the taste and or feel of cum/pre-cum, most of us have probably never gone all CocoDorm with it but even that to me is a bit different from the pee thing as cum is at least a derivative of sexual contact. But hey, whatever floats your boat, obviously I found a nice way to get myself out of a sticky situation.

A good friend of mine, a fellow top, told me a story about this dude he was having sex with one time who yelled out "Ooh nigga, get me pregnant!" in the middle of sex. It totally freaked him out and he never called the boy again. Jerry, Vincente, and my friend's friend I just mentioned probably don't look as freaky as they are in the bedroom to the naked eye. It's almost as though sexual contact changed them into another character. Revealing that innermost character to someone is another thing what makes sex so intimate.

Just as bottoms sometimes exhibit hyper-feminine characters or roles during sex tops can exhibit hyper-masculine roles. I'll use myself as an example. I'm gay, I'm a top. I wouldn't say I'm a the macho-ist of macho men, I'm nobody's thug but I'm no queen either. I'm intelligent, articulate, and even talkative  at times. Unfortunately in the black community these traits are considered somewhat feminine as black males are often portrayed as the strong silent type. But even with that for the most part in non-gay settings most people are a little surprised when I tell them I'm gay.

When I'm turned on though it's a whole 'nother story. After careful observation of my own sexual behavior I've noticed that certain things happen unconsciously when I'm turned on: my eyes tighten, I bite my bottom lip, my voice drops a few octaves (it's already not high as it is), I get a little more physically aggressive and even a little playfully rough. My ex-boyfriend Mr. Man, the first person to actually point this out to me made up a name for this phenomenon that is my sexy alter-ego. He coined it "The Jaykwon Factor." Jaykwon, as Adam doesn't sound like a rough enough name for this personality. Others whom I've had sex with have commented on The Jaykwon Factor. One person said that when they first met me I was cool, quiet, calm but when we had sex I turned into a quote-unquote "prison thug." Another person I hooked up with who discovered this blog after the fact told me that they had no idea that I could write the way I do, as I seemed so "rough" when they met me. Both of them were more than satisfied with the sex by the way.

Jaykwon, though good in bed is not too bright, while Adam likes to write and loves music and geography, Jaykwon just likes to fuck and is very smooth and persuasive. He's even been known to be a "top killer." (A "top killer" is a top who turns out and fucks other tops. Read about my experience with a pseudo-top killer in this post. Get an idea of what one of my more Jaykwon moments was like in this post.)

While Jaykwon likes to fuck and usually keeps things strictly physical, the more loving Adam has said some things he wish he hadn't said during sex. I've been in a few situations where I was dating someone and was really into them, we were having sex, making love, what have you, it was feeling good and right, and the pheromones were flying everywhere and I slipped up and said the "L" word. Dayum. "I love you.", the best, and sweetest three words you can ever hear when it's reciprocal and the most horrifyingly terrible, nails-on-the-chalkboard sound you ever want to hear when it's not. Sometimes they said it back, sometimes they didn't, sometimes they pretended they couldn't hear. It's even happened to me before. Sometimes I'd say it back, sometimes I wouldn't, sometimes I'd act like I couldn't hear, other times I'd mouth something in the heat of the moment that could be accidentally on purpose possibly misconstrued as "I love you." as to not to interrupt the flow of the sex, such as "I love shoes." and it's not exactly a lie as I do love shoes.

In that situation having sex with someone prompted me to share an intimate part of myself. I may have already known I was falling in love with that person but decided to keep it to myself to see whether they felt the same way. But during sex being so intimate and vulnerable it's hard to keep up your defenses.  After being born from your mother's womb sexual intercourse is the closest you can ever be to someone. You are literally inside them. Never take that for granted. A lot of experiences that I've recalled here I can look back and laugh at now but they weren't so funny as they were happening. I can't believe I'm about to say this but sex is a big deal. Every time we lay down, bend over, sit up, stand up, or get in that swing that is suspended from the ceiling to have sex a lot is at stake. We can put on all the condoms in the world to protect our dicks but they haven't made one yet that protects the heart.

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Playing In The Background...
"Protect My Heart"
by Tamia
from the album "Between Friends"
and
"Protect My Heart"
by Kelis
from the album "Tasty"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
I was talking to someone Saturday night who had read the now infamous "I Really Am A Bottom I KNOW I Am..." post. He told me that thoroughly enjoyed it and that led to us having a conversation about the roles of tops and bottoms and what my preferences are. We also touched on the subject of respect for people's sexual boundaries. It reminded me of this experience.
Enjoy.
I've also included this in the Online Dating Horror Stories category.
==========

I am a top. I am, I am, I just am. I lost my virginity (actually I know exactly where I put it) as a top. Out of curiosity I tried the bottom thing. I figured when I'm fucking the other person is having such a good time I wanted to be a part of the fun! That is until it happened (that's a whole 'nother blog post). I felt like Whitney Houston in "Waiting To Exhale" ("grrr huh...?" my body didn't need that) and like Lela Rochon "I coulda had a V8." After that first time any subsequent attempts (which were few, far between, and never more than ten minutes) were out of me 'really liking a guy,' but even that got really old, really quick. So now I'm like a force field, I'm impenetrable. I've gotten to the point in my life now that I am what I am and whoever doesn't like it can suck my dick... literally. The whole getting fucked thing, nothing wrong with it, it's great for other people, but not for me. 

I was online one night and this dude hit me up. He said that I had given him my number before but that he never called. I honestly could not place him at all. From the picture I saw of him online he was cute-ish. I've learned not to trust just one picture anyway. It takes a dayum photo shoot to gain my confidence. But anyway we started talking back and forth exchanging pleasantries, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then he asks me whether I liked threesomes. I told him that I had engaged in them before. Then he mentioned something about getting together with a bottom. I asked him whether he was a top. He said "yeah". I was wondering 'how in the hell did he slip through the cracks?'

I make it a practice not to date or even entertain the idea of a romantic relationship with a fellow top. Why? Why? I'll tell you why... because it's pointless. There's no point in wasting time dating and getting to know someone knowing that there's only but so far you can go. But I don't mind being friends with one.

He hit me back up online and said to call him in ten minutes. I thought to myself 'what the fuck am I gonna call you for?' so I didn't. After a while he called and we talked a little further. All during the conversation he is trying to convince me that I should at least sixty-nine with him. All the while I'm hitting him with a barrage of him "no's", "I'm good's" and "Nah, I don't get down like that's". He didn't seem to be taking no for an answer. You see why I don't mess with tops? The conversation ended soon after.

Then he texts me and asks where in Harlem do I live because he may be in the area. 'Hmmm, should I give him my address?' I thought. As much as his top advances irritated me I have to admit I was intrigued. A part of me wanted to see what he looked like, so against my better judgment I told him what corner I lived off of, not really expecting him to come anyway. Then he texted me and told me that he'd be at my house in 30 minutes. I expected to meet him and have him chill for a minute. I wasn't trying to do anything sexually with him. I made that clear over the phone and I wasn't tryna stay up half the night, I had work the next day.

In the interim he sent me a text that went something like this:

"Get that dick and hole lubed up shawty"

What the fuck? Didn't I tell this nigga I'm not tryna do nothin' with him and if I were to do something it sure as hell wont involve any holes of mine. So I text back:

"Nigga u ain't doin' shyt with my hole! Yo, I told you I don't get down like that."

"Love u 2 shawty... stop bitchin'... see u in a few."

Oh, this nigga is tryna pull some ol' Big Daddy game shyt on me. Doesn't he know I invented that shyt? A part of me regretted this and wanted to just leave his ass downstairs and not answer the phone when he calls me. This is a big building, he doesn't know what apartment I'm in, he doesn't even know what I look like besides the pictures he saw. It's not like I haven't done the shyt before. The other part of me wanted to cuss his ass out. Who the fuck was he calling "shawty"? I ain't ya dayum "shawty" nigga! Don't try to pull that bitch shyt on me...

So he came and needless to say I let him in. Robo-Munchkin (that's the name I'm giving him, Robo because we met on online, Munchkin because he was short) was cute-ish, and about 5'8, 140 lbs. I answered the door giving my world famous sexy, ready for bed look. I came to the door in basketball shorts with no shirt on. I was gonna tease this nigga. I wasn't planning on getting no ass from him so I was gonna have a little fun. I'm usually not a game player but I felt frisky that night. He looked at me, he liked what he saw. But he was cool. I guess he was tryna feel me out. From his conversation I could tell he thought he was the shyt because he had a car and some jewelry and some bird ass nigga woulda probably fell for his shyt. But not I, I'm A. Benjamin Irby, nigga ask about me.

So I'm laying on my bed watching TV, he's sitting up. I hear his shoes hit the floor. Ain't nobody ask him to take off his dayum shoes. Robo-Munchkin lies down next to me and as were having small talk he slides his right arm under my lower back with his fingertips inching toward my ass. I bust out laughing.

"Nigga, what the fuck are you doing?
I ask, laughing but dead serious at the same time.

"I'm just tryna..."

"Nigga get ya hand off my ass I told you I don't get down like that! So you didn't think I was serious, huh? I told you that I'm a strict top and that I wasn't tryna do nothing with you. What you thought you were gonna come here, I was gonna see you and just change my mind?"
I looked at him and I could tell even without him saying a word that that's exactly what he thought.
"It don't work like that, not with me."

So we talked a little while longer. Then he said:

"C'mere..." in his pseudo-Big Daddy voice.

I rolled my eyes as I slid over wondering what he trick he was gonna pull next. Then he started ravenously sucking my neck. I started laughing. I said:

"Nigga, what are you doing?"

"Relax."
He said with a slight tinge of frustration in his voice. He was a persistent little munchkin.

"Don't get no hickies on my neck nigga."
I said as he began to suck harder.

Then he put my hand on his crotch in an effort to feel his hardening dick through his jeans. I wasn't impressed. He put his hand in my basketball shorts to feel my flaccid dick. This was all doing nothing for me and now this game I was playing started getting boring. I was so over this. I looked at the clock by the TV trying to calculate how many hours of sleep I would get before work once I got him the hell outta here. Then he asked:

"You got any porns?"

'Porns,' I thought, 'who the fuck says porns?' What kinda word is that? I've heard of porno or pornography, but porns. Even the way his ass talked started to annoy me. He had to go. Obviously he wanted us to jerk off together. Why the fuck would I waste a perfectly good nutt doing this shyt? But whatever got him out of my hair the fastest. So I turn the movie on, I turn around and he's naked. I see Robo-Munchkin wastes no time.

I wondered, just like you are what homeboy was packin'. He was talkin' all this Big Daddy top killer shyt (A top killer/slayer is a top that is just so hot or has so much swagger that he can get other tops to let him beat. I've killed quite a few tops in my day.) that I'm expecting to see an anaconda. People say that in a top/top situation deciding who is gonna top was a matter of who had the bigger dick, bigger dick wins. Needless to say, he lost. I can't believe that Robo-Munchkin really thought I was really gonna let his munchkin ass climb on my back.

So we jerked off. He wanted to do it in a sixty-nine-like position. I don't know why cuz I sure as hell wasn't sucking his dick. He was hard, I was hard-ish. He put my hand on my dick as though I was supposed to jerk him off while his finger was inching toward my asshole. I asked yet again:

"Nigga, what the fuck are you doing?

"Oh, oh my bad."

"So you not gonna lick it for me?"

"Hell no."

"A little bit, just the head?"

"No."

"If you suck mine, I'll suck yours."

"Nah, I'm good" I said as I jerked my semi flaccid dick.

Since he's been here, being in this position was the first time I looked him square in the face. He really wasn't bad looking at all. He was attractive. He kissed me and that really wasn't bad. I would have at least jerked the nigga off if he wasn't such an asshole. He annoyed me so much by that time with his pseudo-Big Daddy bullshyt that all his cute points had gone out the window. Then he motioned his dick toward my face in a last ditch effort to get me to suck it. I said:

"If you want that thing I suggest you get it outta my face."

By then I think he finally got that I meant business.

He came first and few moments later I managed to muster up a nutt from my erect-ish dick. We went into my bathroom to clean up when he made some comment about my ass being fat. He had to go. I rushed his munchkin ass out my crib to never see him again.

Why did he text me the next day talkin' about "Sup homie." Is he serious? Hopefully our meeting taught him a lesson in learning to respect other people's sexual boundaries. I learned that I'm way too old to be playing games and teaching lessons. I don't have nearly enough patience for that shyt.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Big Munny"
by Swizz Beatz
from the album "One Man Band Man"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

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I had more second thoughts about publishing this blog post than any other one I have ever written. I was gonna go through a whole long thing explaining it and hoping that you didn't look at me differently after you read it. But you know what, it is what it is. This is a story I really wanted to share.
Enjoy.
P.S: This is one of my more explicit posts so if you are easily offended do not proceed.
==========

As much as we gays claim to be so evolved and that traditional masculine-feminine gender roles don't matter to us then why do some of us say the things we say? Some of us seem to have a clear vision of what a top and a bottom should act like. Do you? At the end of the day, how "evolved" are we?

There was this one time I met this guy on the internet. He fit all of my standards. He was like 5'8, 145 lbs, cute-ish face (according to his picture), and a total bottom. I was in love... potentially. He must have liked what he saw as well because he gave me his phone number after about two messages. Usually when someone is quick to give me their number I get a little suspicious and my 'ugly alert' light starts flashing.

I waited a day and then I called him. He answered the phone. I said "Whaddup Jeremy?" He asked me my name. I never got the chance to give it to him online. I told him that he didn't know my name and I gave him my screen name and the name of the website we met on. He was still trying to decipher exactly who I was. I guess he was checking his 'ugly alert' light as well. He wasn't at his computer at the moment and he was trying to mentally connect my picture to my screen name. He still hadn't done that successfully but he figured that if he gave me his number without even knowing my name I couldn't be so bad.

As we conversed he talked a mile a minute, jumping from subject to subject rather erratically. Until that day I had never met someone who talked more than I do. While we were on the phone he was pretty busy doing like 10 other things while he was trying to hold a conversation with me, this caused many interruptions and 'huh, what did u say's?' along the way. That is such a huge pet peeve of mine. He also sounded a little fem on the phone but I didn't really mind that. But the interruption thing was working my nerves. I'm a Leo and I command full attention, dammit! Along the way our conversation got disconnected. I didn't bother calling back because he was half listening to me anyway so I was kinda over it and him by then, it was whatever. A few seconds later he called me back and apologized for being so unconsumed with our prior conversation. He somehow had gotten to a computer by this time and asked me my screen name again. I told him and then his voice perked up:

"Oh yeah, I remember you. That's wsup, I'm glad you called."

I have to admit I was kinda horny so I was definitely feeling the eagerness. I really wasn't in the mood for the whole 'I don't do this, I don't do that on the first day thing', I wanted to fuck tonight. Then he told me that he's moving away the day after tomorrow... score! I know I'ma get me some now cuz this nigga probably wants some goodbye dick! We set up a time to meet later that evening and we hung up. I had about two hours to eat something, take a shower, get myself together and do my male peacock mating dance. I had my finest most colorful plumage all fanned out. I wanted to look good, but not go out good, I wanted to look chillin' in the crib, ready for bed good. I put on a wife beater and basketball shorts. I looked in the mirror, it was sexy. I was fucking tonight.

He arrived at my door and he definitely wasn't cute-ish, he was fine, dayum. Slim, nice body, fat ass, cute face and all, he was boyfriend material. But I couldn't let him know that, I thought he was sexy, he gave me what I needed but I'm far from a fiend. Because he was so dayum cute he didn't really give me the sex vibe I was lookin' for at least not right away, but then again he was leaving town, and he really did wanna meet me tonight. The really cute ones though sometimes play hard to get... sometimes.

Now the mating dance begins. So he sat up on the edge of my bed I laid in the center, cool, calm and collective. His ass was right about where my pelvis would be but like a foot or so to the left of me. He began to talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk some more about a whole bunch of shyt. I couldn't even tell you half of that shyt now. All I did was look at him and get lost in his sexy ass lips moving. In between paragraphs I caught on to the fact that he was really smart. That is such a turn on to me, I love a smart guy. I wanted to fuck him so bad. But I could tell by his body language that he was a little uncomfortable in this particular moment and even more uncomfortable with the idea of meeting guys off the internet. He even mentioned something about being quite sexually inexperienced especially in the area of intercourse and that he had never enjoyed sex before. Dayum, I figured I probably wouldn't get any ass but I resigned myself to at least getting some head out of the deal.

I reached out with my left arm and put it around his waist, pulling myself a little closer to him. I smoothly said:

"You about to fall off the edge of the bed sittin' like that. You can move in a little."

"Well, I wasn't sure how you felt about jeans on your bed. Because I don't let people have their jeans on my bed..."

Just like the bottoms, so meticulous, I love them. At that point I could care less about his jeans on my bed. If anything I wanted them on the floor, under the bed, swinging from my ceiling fan, anywhere but on. I asked him if he minded my arm around his waist he said "no" and I then took his hand and laid it on my stomach and told him that he didn't have to be afraid to touch me. Just then he jumped up because he wanted to compare his abs to mine so he got up and lifted his shirt. Things were starting to get physical, this was a good sign. I saw his chest, his nipples, his stomach I wanted to lick him all over. When it was my turn to show and prove I got up and lifted my wife beater and he noticed that my dick was standing at half mast through my basketball shorts. He looked at it and me mischievously, it was on and poppin'.

So we got back on the bed in our previous positions and decided to sit up next to him wrapping both my arms around him in a sort of half embrace. My face was then really close to his, my lips inches from his. Then he said, motioning toward the side of his neck:

"My, my spot is right there."

So I lightly kissed him there once, twice, three times until his breathing got a little heavier and he licked his lips. The I took lightly took him by the chin with my right hand and guided his face toward mine and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him and then we paused and kissed again. Then he said:

"This would be better if you laid on top of me."

'Oh word', I thought, this little nigga tryna run shyt. Aight, Ima just go with the flow. As I proceeded to lay on top of him he said:

"This would be better with my jeans