Sex: November 2007 Archives

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.

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

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.

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

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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"
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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.

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