There was a LOT of eyecandy in the way of the big, burly, furry, and general OMGLETSGETNAKEDANDNASTYRIGHTNOW hotness, but the emotional stuff I had going on overrode most of that. Now mind you, I’m a man - a gay one. It is wired into our genetics that if there is a hot guy within viewing range, our cerebral circuitry automatically gets switched to “Oh yeah, I’d hit that. Sure, let’s go. Or right here, we can fuck right here too - that’s fine. Yes, I know we’re standing on a freshly dug grave, what’s your point?” I think that’s true of all men, homo and hetero, on a theoretic level if nothing else, but the volume on our testosterone is probably a little higher than on the straighties. I say that because I don’t know any straight guys who have the uncomplicated option to get laid as much as we do, nor have as few complications negotiating before/during/after sex stuff. I make no illusions about sex. I make it clear that my heart belongs to someone already, and I’m not going to be romantic when I’m fucking. The seduction ends at agreement/consent, then on to the carnality. Or perhaps the seduction doesn’t end as much as it takes on a new energy. My personal experience, guys - based on my own personal experience. I have straight guy friends who compare sex stories with me and then end up going “you know, I really wished I liked the cock, ’cause GODDAMN that sounds like a good time - and I could never get a chick to do/be like that…” Even Maggie - who considers herself ‘heteroflexible’ - will be the first to admit that girls are great all, and if it weren’t for the whole having to go downtown for dinner part, she’d be full-on bisexual. Then again, Maggie doesn’t really like most heterosexual people, has few heterosexual friends, and is entirely bitter that she’s neither a lesbian nor a gay man.
I’ve theorized in past entries about homo/hetero sex at a more biologically/sociologically ingrained level and the differences therein. In sociology you learn that it is essentially wired into men that we need to spread as much seed as is possible. The expectation traditionally is placed upon heterosexual men to spread their seed with the intention of doing their part for procreation. The assumed lifespan of these procreative unions gives them about an 18 month lifespan, giving one time to find a mate, conceive a child, attend to it for a while, then move on to the next. That accounts for a lot of things, in particular the male tendency (or rather propensity) to look elsewhere or wander, so to speak, and our relentless drive to cruise hot people. In no way am I attempting to make excuses for the legitimization of infidelity. That’s bullshit, there are none. Whatever you may be predisposed to, you alone are responsible for your behaviour. There are all kinds of relationships and as many variables that you and your partner can agree on or not - but anything that falls outside of those parameters is a bad idea. Perhaps a polyamorous relationship works for some, an open relationship for others, and exclusivity for the rest, not that these are the only options. It is up to you to figure out what your needs are and seek a relationship (or abstain from committed relationships altogether) that helps you get your fundamental needs met. If you are already part of a relationship where needs are not getting met, you owe it to yourself and your partner to have these kinds of discussions and come to some realistic decisions about how to get everyone’s needs met. It’s only fair. You may feel neglected in one capacity by them, they may feel the same in another and neither of you have any idea because there’s no communication. Sometimes the simple act of communicating your needs and coming to some understandings - who knew - can save a relationship that is invariably headed for the doom dumpster. Kind of makes you wonder how many breakups could be avoided if people were more honestly communicative, doesn’t it? That’s a whole ‘nother topic, though.
As a gay men, I am not having sex for the sake of procreation, I default to
sex for mere pleasure and in the process do my part for population control. That responsibility is off of me. Not that I are devoid of sexual responsibility, far from it. In the advent of AIDS and other STD’s, sex has become an act that can invariably be fatal. And I’m not talking about some rough trade hustler type that might linger around a gay bar oozing sex appeal who might follow you to the parking lot, negotiate an exchange for money or maybe even a ride somewhere, offer you his beautiful, more than ample cock instead of payment, and then fuck you up before/after you get him to shoot his load. Except for the part about getting fucked up afterward, which has never happened in my case (well, almost), that’s a lot of fun a very hot scenario, IMHO. Not unlike ‘making friends’ with a drunken, horny soldier after last call. *sighs reflectively* …ah, good times…
Sex is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be dirty, and you’re supposed to have at least one moment of feeling like you’re this completely dirty, nasty, gutterbutt whore before, during, or after you come. If not, you’re not doing it right and what’s the fucking point? Rather like giving head until the point of making someone come and then stopping - I’d rather you didn’t even bother sometimes, thanks. Even masturbation isn’t about sex for me unless I’m doing it to or with someone else, and even that is just a question of degrees. To me, jerking off is just maintainance. It’s more like eating, breathing, and sleep than it is like sex when I’m alone. It’s a very self validating thing when you get down to it, you’re getting yourself off for you. Hey, no one can love you like you can love yourself. Conversely, you can’t love anyone else properly until you love yourself first if you know what I’m saying. And by the way, giving a hand job is also very hot.
Yesterday the guys I found most intriguing were the Daddies. Those gruff, rugged, slightly older and larger types that remind me of the two real Daddies of my youth. Well, one of them - the other was just for practice. Fucking HELL he was a God. Blue collar, unfussy, unmanicured. In a way, these types of men are my substitute for opiates. I love the idea of meeting a Daddy that will charge me up as much as the one in my past did. I would love that experience again. My inner logician knows that it’s a lot like that first high, though - the one addicts spend lifetimes chasing and trying to recreate but will never have again, and subsequent highs are more maintainance than actual high - not that you can’t get really high now and then, but it is all still this big let down somehow that pales in comparison. I definitely think it is a product of feeling like you’re missing something somewhere. That or the onset of midlife crisis feelings, albeit prematurely. All of my best fantasies about giving head center around these types, all stemming from those experiences, or at least one in particular. Probably an amalgam of many, but definitely one that comes to mind. That’s fodder for the ghostofaman LJ, and I’m sure that it’ll get written eventually.
The technical part of it went like this. He was a friend’s father, he was a mill worker, and had very rough edges. Total Daddy bear, but without all the bullshit pretenses and posturing. I always thought he was a great man, he was fair and knew how to be gentle when the situation dictated it. I went to him as a friend with sex questions, he answered me responsibly. Spending the night at their house once, I caught the sight of him in his bed with no covers on, in white briefs with the BIGGEST erection I’d ever seen in real life, and totally asleep. I stared through the cracked doorway of his bedroom feeling slight pangs of “this is wrong, I shouldn’t be doing this” and continued anyway. I roamed up and down the hallway, pausing to linger there voyeuristically until I either got caught by my friend (his son) or until he woke up. It was the first time I’d ever sexualized him, and I was completely turned on. That’s how it started.
Cut
to me being a rather bold teenager, now hellbent on seducing this man, and eventually taking down his defenses. Took maybe two or three weeks. Best head I ever gave was the one time I was able to make him cum, and nothing has compared to it since. Not that I don’t try. *eg* I’m not sure if it is because it was so taboo, because I was so hot for him and it was my ultimate act of prostration for that lust, or because it was clear to me that I had given him this enormous gift in worshipping him so completely and making him feel more wanted than anyone else ever had before - then going the extra mile in refusing to let him pull out of my mouth when he came, and boy did he try but I latched on and made him give me all of it. In retrospect I suppose it’s all of those things. Knowing I wanted it to happen sooner or later, I had decided that I wanted my first time taking a man’s load to be his, it was the height of the fantasy for me. I don’t think I have ever recovered from that act, either.
Fuck Lolita, that bitch knew nothing.
