Sex: August 2008 Archives

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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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.

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Playing In The Background...
"One Minute Man (video version)" feat. Ludacris and Trina
Missy Elliott
from the album "Miss E... So Addictive"
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PS: This is totally sidebar, but you bottoms out there who don't cum or don't think it's necessary to cum during or as a result of sex, what's with that? I don't get it. Y'all need to enjoy sex too dammit!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued...

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