I've never been that big of a fan of the cold. Some people don't like the heat, maybe they don't like to be sweaty, or maybe the sun gives them a headache. Those people are probably dehydrated. For me, the only time when I feel really secure is when I'm warm all over. There's a comfort in being warm, maybe it's the same instincts of being safe in a mother's womb, or relaxing for a nap in the sun. The sun feels nice on one's skin. Maybe it's because I'm a fire sign that I get too cold too easily... or maybe it's just the shitty San Francisco weather. It's foggy every day, especially in the summer. The fog is scary. It's scary because it's mysterious.
But when I think of moving, it seems realistically impossible. Why would I want to leave the best place in the world? I've been to other countries, and across most of the continental united states, and no matter where you go, you find that nothing is like the bay. It seems like an ironic stereotype that the rest of the world thinks people from the bay, cause it seems to me like the only place where people are real. Real because they're not afraid to be flawed. Sure, I have lofty ambitions just like all these other bitches of moving to Hollywood- I guess that's the dream. I don't really care about LA, but Hollywood plays out on a global stage, and everyone knows it. The world looks to Hollywood to see how to exist, which makes it arguably the most powerful force in the universe.
Nobody wants the same things, which makes me think that I too could be successful... but it seems like at the very basis level, everyone does want the exact same thing. Money, sex, and love all mean the same things to everybody in regard to value and expense. Like life, this novel is composed of memories I've tried to block out.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Friday, September 4, 2009
Misha 6,940
It's so hard to know what you want, and it seems like no matter how much older people get, most of them still haven't got a clue. Some suggest looking at what you don't want in order to help you figure out what you do, but that seems redundant and counter intuitive to me. Most people want power, yet our modern and complicated society has blurred the lines of it so much, that in addition to having so many types, there's multiple many ways to achieve it, and like our emotions, it's always changing with each passing day. Humans aren't that much more than slightly evolved primates, and whenever I observe people's behavior I'm unequivocally slapped with that fact in my face. It makes sense that we share 98% of the DNA of a chimp, and 99% with that of a Binobo. Watching people grind on each other in clubs, talking shit and spreading vicious gossip, eating out of the trash, dying on the streets of addiction, stealing, molesting, fiercely fought and continual class wars- which are the final divisions among people... all of these aspects of daily life force one to realize what humans aren't- powerful enough to be in control of self, powerless against the never ending primordial struggle for power.
Some people like being out of control; conversely some like to be controlled. I always find the most interesting dynamic in a sado-masochistic relationship that it's really the masochist who is in control the whole time, meaning they're the one who is really powerful, yet at the same time they achieve this power through total release of power & submission.... I'm not into S&M and wouldn't ever really get close to anyone who was. It seems unhealthy, like it's the result of abuse or trauma. That's beside the point. I guess that example just serves to illustrate my notion of how power is never the same, essentially existing in more than one place, at more than one time. I want to be powerful. They say we have the right to an education, and I wish I never dropped out of college cause I'm fascinated by psychology. I'm also fascinated by sex and power, because they're both part of the few overall themes of life. Sex, death, love, power, money, beauty, pain... all of these words mean the same to everyone, with respect to both value and expense.
I try to find ways in my life to be powerful, or to make myself more powerful. I've always been into rough sex. I mean, nothing too crazy, and I don't want to only have rough sex all the time. I guess it's a reflection of the way I feel at the time, which is always changing. Some of the best lays I've had haven't been the hottest guys or had the biggest dicks. Every time I got with a really hot guy I feel like he was just posing, and there was nothing more to him than the way he looks. I mean, I catch myself doing that too, but that's beside the point. If I'm bottoming for a guy I do like it when he spanks my ass, holds me down, throws me on the bed, bites, scratches, and bruises. I carry around bites and bruises with pride- it says "I am desirable enough to get people to have sex with me" and I don't mind people thinking I'm fucked up. I'm not good all the time, and I don't expect to be treated like a prince, cause I'm a pauper. You know, I always said that the first guy who could tell me what to do is the guy I'd spend the rest of my life with. Treats me like the bitch I am.
One of the hottest hookups I had was named Misha. I've always had a thing for Russian guys, because they're sketchy as fuck. They always have the exotic hard to find drugs like G.H.B. or Special K. I like their uncut penises, and tight eastern European bodies. I've noticed that mainly, there are 2 types of Russians- the lighter skinned ones to the Northwest, who look vaguely British only with way better bone structure and teeth, and then the dark ones who look mixed. Genetically speaking, many eastern Europeans are actually Chinese, due to a long term intermingling between the Caucasian and Mongoloids ancestral DNA combining throughout Eastern Europe and Western Asia. Misha was the latter... he looked Mongolian if anything, but was really into being Russian. He had such great cheekbones I always wondered why he chose to have long hair, because it totally hid those important lines. I wondered why he was so into his Russian heritage although he was obviously not just genetically Russian. It's strange when people see themselves as something just because it was the setting they grew up with.
He had really pretty tan skin with blue eyes, which I've always found to be the most appealing combination of coloring in my opinion. I love it when Black people wear grey contacts. What I liked most about him is how possessive he was over me, it really turned me on. He was taller than me by a few inches, and I think that he liked to look at me as something perfect, small and powerless that needed him to protect me. He grew up on the streets in Russia, and although he never really revealed the details of his past extensively, I had a feeling that he'd seen some shit. I met him through a mutual friend, and from the moment we gave each other a first meeting hug, I knew we had a lot of sexual chemistry. Touching him was electric; the first thing I noticed was his really meaty and perfectly symmetrical shoulder blades. He has a strong back, I thought to myself. He probably has a lot of confidence, that's pretty powerful.
"What it is, your name?" He asked me. "I think you are so cute." His accent was too good! It made me want to fall in love immediately. We don't have to talk anyways. I though it must be fun to be the hot foreigner, cause then everyone wants you so they all compete, and you get to pick the very best one. Aside from the shoulders, the other thing I notices was his great cheekbones, and perfect jaw line. No amount of plastic surgery can ever give someone good bone structure, cause it's genetic. We started having sex soon after that first meeting, at our friend's party. At first I was glad he was so much, it was fun being around him, and he has a very adventurous side which guaranteed anyone who spent an evening, or an early morning with him, a very good time indeed. He was always getting into trouble, in some way, most of the time. He told me a few times all his problems were from having bad luck, but at the end of the day he could have turned it all around if he wanted to. After the third time we had sex he started checking my phone, reading all my texts right in front of me. He had huge trust issues, and was always convinced I was sucking someone else's dick, yet at the same time always talked about wanting to have threesomes with me.
The sex was so good that I didn't want to get with anyone else, but he never believed me; the more I reassured him that I wanted to stick with him seemed to only further his feelings of self-doubt and powerlessness over the situation. His friends told me that he was always talking about how I was the one, and how he'd never been so much in love before, but has a weird way of showing it. What I liked about him is that he was so kinky. Sometimes, I tell a guy I have no limits, just so I can see how they react to that. I really don't have any limits. Well, I do. I'm not going to get anyone stick a hydrant up my ass, or kill me to get off on it in a sex type way. Misha really didn't seem to have any, and sometimes I wonder if he did some things to get himself off or for no reason at all. I always had cuts and bruises after a weekend with him, and I'm glad to say I always leave my mark on whichever guy I happen to be having sex with. I even let him drink my blood, which I thought was really hot. I never really knew anything about the last time he was tested, so I chose not to ingest any of his fluids, although we did pee on each other all kinds. What I liked a lot is that he would forcefully hold me down while fucking me, or punch my in the stomach in order to get me to submit to him. To make a long story short, the sex was amazing... but I guess that was mostly it. Misha has a shitty personality, and although he's really adventurous and passionate about life, he really wasn't that fun or happy, and wouldn't let me have a single guy friend. He was just too jealous to allow me to have any males in my life except for him.
Since our relationship was so hot, sometimes really scalding, it did have to get cold at some points. We had some legendary fights, even though I really hate conflict and do my best to avoid it at all costs. It's just so devolved to me. I would never try to claim that I got all wrapped up in an abusive relationship, because it's not the case. I hit him too, all the time. With guys, you have to be like that, especially if they're as crazy and ghetto as this motherfucker, because getting physical is the only way they will respond. However, the makeup sex after would just be so good that I couldn't help but ache for him, the center of which was deep inside my pelvis. He was such an amazing fuck, and although we'd usually only see each other a few times a week we'd always have sex for at least several hours. I'd always tell him he was just too good, and that was the only reason I couldn't quit him. I always knew he was bad for me. Because our relationship was so much all the time, it predictably fizzled out after 5 months. It just became too much to always deal with his constant bullshit and jealousy, and being treated like a possession. I never break up with guys, because I always want it to last as long as it possibly can... I really do try to believe in love at the end of the day, regardless of how delusional that happens to be.
Misha was the one guy I had to end it with, because even though he made me feel ways that no man was ever able to make me feel, he isolated me too much. He didn't really have any friends, and didn't want me to have any either, he wanted to be the only figure in my life. I understand where these feelings come from, essentially he tried to control me cause he was totally out of control of his own life. When the time came to end things, I could tell he would take it really hard. I couldn't really remember exactly what I said, cause I had never broken up with a boyfriend previously. I guess something to the effect of it's not working out. "How can you do this to me? You told me you loved me..." he said pitifully. I didn't know what to do! I wanted to love him, but I couldn't. He made it impossible. All I could think of was about all the times this has happened to him before. It seemed like more than a couple guys had probably taken all they could from this poor dude until getting totally over it and getting rid of him, never really giving it a second thought. He never really told me that much about himself, which is fine because I really didn't care anyways. I don't care who you are, or what you did. Still, my heart goes out to anyone who can't really get things right, and I'm always a sucker for hard luck stories. Even though everyones' lives are so different, and not everyone wants the same thing, when it comes to the main themes of life, everyone really does. Everyone wants most what they can't have, and he wanted me- probably 10 times more now that I told him he couldn't have me. Isn't wanting what you can't have the basis for attraction?
A few weeks went by, and aside from manic calls at four or five in the morning from a gaked out Russian, the only other ways he tried to contact me was through texts and e-mails. I replied to a text or two, just letting him down easy, insisting that we could still be friends, and insisting that he would totally get over me and find someone way better anyways. When boyfriends broke up with me in the past I totally would cut off 100% of communication, thinking it better to have them be totally out of my life if that's what they really wanted. There's something intensely powerful is cutting someone totally out of your life, essentially it's the worst way to hurt them, and hurt them the most. See, even when guys break up with me they come to regret it hella quickly, and always to re-establish a line of contact. But, if someone breaks my heart, it means I won't forgive them, and I will soon forget them. If someone hurts you bad enough then forgiveness is the reaction of a fool.
So one Saturday I went to a place I'm known to go to. Sometimes I go out alone. Sometimes I think that sounds really pitiful, but then sometimes I think that sounds really awesome, and shows my independence. Most of my friends work minimum wage jobs, which means they're not always able to just go wherever whenever. This night I was out alone. It only meant I would leave my house alone, and arrive at the club alone. I'm sure I'll see at least a few people I know, of course talk to some of them, hopefully meet any cute single friends they dragged out with them, and hopefully either get them to come home with me or go home with them. I'm not picky, I'll take what I can get. Dating has never been easy for me, aside from visualizing what I want most in the end, which is a boyfriend. I'm getting better at overcoming hopelessness and accepting the fact that everyone has to start somewhere, and that somewhere always seems like it's so far away that I'll never achieve it. I hope I meet someone who wants to stick it out with me, but I know goals like this don't achieve themselves, and I have to do something to make that happen. So, I'm assertive. I go up to cute guys and tell them I think they're cute. They either are sweet, or turn into bitchy egotists right after, and you never really know how they're going to act.
The reason Misha could never go up to guys he didn't know was because he was fundamentally insecure. Can't blame a person for that, there are many people like that in the world. I'm young, so I like to go out on Friday or Saturday nights. I still have a lot of energy, and even though occasionally on weekends I still have to work, but as long as I don't work until late I always find time to go out. Something, anything is better from sitting on the couch and watching TV while I go on the Internet. Life is so short, I want to grab it by the horns and have the most fun I can. I like to forget about everything bad that happened or is happening to me. Yeah, I haven't been able to really do anything with my life, I know superlatives are a total joke in the sense that the most or best are not realistically possible. Never will I be the most attractive, the richest, or the funniest guy in the club. I know I'll never be a star, although that's what I wish for more than anything- a way to get everyone to love me. I know the real reason I never get guys is cause I don't have a car. But tonight, I'm going to dance to amazing house music and be the fiercest fucker any of these club yuppies have ever laid eyes on. That can be something to want.
For many years I just assumed everyone was conspiring against me, that the rest of the world only existed to subvert my goals and give me nothing but opposition. I still think it's true, to a lesser extent, but from living outside of mainstream society, I was always horrified at the notion of the direction in which direction my life would go. I'll never wear a suit to work and sit at a desk taking advantage of people in 3rd world countries to increase profit margins. I'll never have a 9-5, never drive a nice car, never own my own house, and I know all my dreams aren't going to come true. I've accepted the fact that I'll never get married, and I'll never have kids. Even though this life can be so liberating, it's also terrifying. I forget sometimes that life isn't certain for anyone, however security is much more certain for the lucky ones, and many are practically guaranteed it. So what else is there to want? Just to have a good time I guess.
I was with Misha long enough for him to memorize my work schedule, and I know he listened to me enough when I spoke to remember some key details about me and what I like. I hoped that I wouldn't fun into him, and I'd been lucky so far, but I knew the eventual moment in time would come where we meet, and he's either nice and really fake or will start acting like a bitch immediately. I hoped for the best, realistically expecting the worst. I guess tonight was my lucky night. In the middle of a conversation with a nice guy I feel a tap on my left shoulder. "Well, look at which ho decided to come out and parade her ass through through the bars tonight," he said with a smirk, but I couldn't tell if he was trying to be hurtful to make himself feel better, or to try to make me insecure in front of other people.
"Girl, I have thick highlights. I can do, say, or be whatever the fuck I want." Since English was my first language, there were some ways that he could just never beat me. Sure he's taller, cuter, buffer, and arguably more interesting than I am, but definitely not smarter. Or maybe I just psych myself up to thinking that's true and that's what makes it true. It's anyone's guess what really makes some people smart and others stupid. The guys standing around me laughed him. Gay guys can usually read people fairly well. It comes from having the rest of the world read us on a daily basis. "Look, if you want to talk you know I'm always here for you. You know I'm not trying to make your life harder. I told you a million times I hope you get what you want." If I've had sex with someone before it creates an unspoken bond for life. I'll always think back back to them at various points throughout my life forever, just purely from the fact that I'd crossed boundaries with them that I hadn't crossed with just anyone. I'm one of those people who can remember all the guys I've been with. I was being diplomatic yet real.
"Why would I want to talk to you? You're only good for fucking, and that's it. Your mouth ain't made for talking, and you know that." I could tell he was still upset when I explained that as far as our compatibility goes, it was purely sexual. Why he is trying to embarrass me in front of peers? Ironically, it wasn't going to work considering that everyone knows I'm not a slut. "OK fine. Then don't expect me to use it to speak to you, in that case. Don't follow me around tonight. I'm trying to be charming. Don't follow me to the other places I'm going to go. I was hoping that we could be cordial but you're being too immature about the situation." I always seemed to have to take the authority and speak to him like a parent. Usually he liked to be told what to do. I wonder if he ever had a real parental figure in his whole life. It's unfair to expect your significant other to be your parents. And it sets the relationship up for a quick failure.
Parallel, he always got really pissed whenever he thought I was talking down to him. "Seriously, you need to leave me alone tonight! Look, I'll talk to you soon, but now is not a good time, OK!?" I put a lot of stress on the word OK in the hopes my tone would send a message. They say most of communication is not the words one speaks, but the tone in which one speaks. I didn't understand what it was about the way I was communicating him that was being so ineffective, cause he looked at me like like he was looking right though me. I wonder what it feels like to be so powerful? He gave me the look of a sad child who's done something wrong, but only for a split second. The look quickly contorted into anger. He wasn't getting what he wants. Opposition. All of us face it. How can one still be powerful in face of opposition? "Look, I'm going somewhere else. All my friends are just going to talk shit about you anyways." Shit, that wasn't what I meant. I know he really cares what people think. I'm not trying to set him off, or make him look bad in front of potential boyfriends.
I got in a cab with one of my close friends Rob and we went across town to the SOMA. Sure the guys will be 2 decades older and most likely HIV positive, you know what else? They're only going to be nice, and only serving big plates of smiles. They'll respect boundaries when you tell them no, and if you think they're judging you it's totally projected. They're only want to make me feel good about myself. Drama free is the way to be. I'm trying to get negative forces out of my life cause I'm psychically, physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. I'm tired of all the time, and I know it's from psychic vampires. I'm sure you can guess what I mean. I'm referring to those people who although special and magical in their own way, have this strange power in that they are able to suck the life out of people around them, or suck all the energy out of an entire room of people just by being themselves. Or perhaps, the friend who is upset so they call you purely for the attempt to make you upset as well. These people are to be avoided at all costs. Besides, I'm the only psychic vampire who is allowed to take others energy.
So we went to Club 8, which seems to draw a younger crowd. I take pleasure in the fact that all the major porn production companies shoot all that sexy gay porn within a 10 block radius of where I'm standing right now. The sexual force of nature from the 70s never really left, and even now you can always see guys walking around in pigs masks on a daily basis. Sometimes, it scares me. I guess I mean it makes me feel inadequate, like sex means nothing to me because I can't be it. I can't be sex. It wasn't long before a cute Mexican guy made friends with Rob, so they went upstairs probably just to make out and feel each others dicks through jeans. This club, in the big scheme of things is upscale, and it wasn't a former sex club and they don't have a place for sex inside it. I don't mind that, in face it takes the pressure off me. I don't really want to get off with someone unless they're my man or could potentially become my man. You have to always try things out first to make sure they're good. The bathrooms are clean but they still smell like piss.
10 mins went by, and the first article of the gay constitution, I found someone to fuck so we'll talk some other time, was now in full effect. I accepted the fact that I would probably not see Rob again tonight, and was excited that he found someone to get off with. It's cool, I saw 2 guys I recognized from school, so that gave me the chance to shoot the shit with someone. I always like to meet new friends. And new old friends. The music was ok. The club was cool, but after the second drag performance I was getting tired. Misha was making me nervous earlier and I still had the residual feelings deep inside my stomach. I didn't want to have sex with anyone tonight. I was drinking earlier but now I was just coming down. I'd actually been out of the house for about 3 or 4 hours now and it was cold. I put on my jacket and stood against the back wall. I'd always dreamed about this as a kid- a room full of hot guys all of whom were attracted to me. Does this mean dreams really do come true? I accepted this happy realization and tried to make it linger. I try to keep hold of good feelings as long as I can.
The world is so fundamentally dark. If you're not in your bed, it seems like everything is cold, hard, and inviting. We live in concrete mazes, stone and glass, sharp and clean, hard like my heart, with no romantic illusions of changing the world. Opposition faces you at every turn and nobody ever seems to get what they want. Who gives a shit? I was fierce tonight, and everyone wanted me. I always get whatever I want. I looked behind me and noticed Misha walking through the club. He knows I come here, so he probably was looking for me... I wonder if he's been to my other stomping grounds tonight. Regardless, this was all bad, so I went out the back door. I hoped he didn't notice me leave, because I do have a somewhat memorable walk. People come from around the world to admire my killer ass. We never made eye contact but like a Siamese fighting fish, he always quickly goes on the attack. I looked behind me and noticed that Misha followed me through the back doors and out of the club. The cold wind hit me like a ton of bricks, as it always does, because I hate the cold and never seem to escape it. Statistically, San Francisco has a colder yearly average than Alaska. It's the weather that will eventually make me leave.
But it was that fucking asshole back at the club that made me leave tonight, he was really bumming my stone! You know I bet the reason Misha never wears a coat is because it probably snowed in Russia. I liked how he sweated easily here, I liked the way his balls smelled. "So now you got some more clothes on, I guess," he said to me running up from behind. I wasn't mad but I was annoyed. I just couldn't deal with his bull shit, and whenever situations arise in which I'm probably going to crazy on some bitch's ass, I usually like to take myself out of the situation completely, I've found that it's the only thing that works for me. "What do you want from me? What do you want me to say or do?" I asked furtively. I was hoping to scare him off off tonight by being aggressive. "I want for you to say you love me," he yelled, when I expected him to wimper it.
I wondered what was going through his brain? Who has time to follow someone around all night. "I love you! I fucking love you so much it's making me sick. You're the best baby, the only man for me." I was being obviously sarcastic, due to the fact he couldn't always pick up subtleties like sarcasm or humor since he was foreign. "You're the best dick I've ever had!" Misha grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me against a concrete wall. It only hurt my shoulder blades themselves. I pushed him off of of me but it only seemed to fuel his fire. He grabbed me again and did the same thing. "Misha, stop it! What the fuck is your problem? I could give a shit less about your shitty and fucked up ghetto past. You can't just do whatever you want to, whenever you want to. You're acting like a crazy bitch."
"You do this to me. You love to torture me." I mean, in a way what he was saying was true, but not how he meant it. I like to be the one in control, and if someone in a love relationship with me is going through some power struggle with me then yes, I would love to tortue them. Only if they do something to deserve it. There can be only one. And in a healthy relationship like this things of this nature never even pop up, they're never even an issue.
"You're crazy. I keep telling you I wish you the best and I hope all your dreams come true and shit. How may time have to told you I hope you get what you want, it just can't be me? You're damaged. You lower my worth." I never like to be nasty, but he was giving me no choice. He pushed me up against a building again, the concrete wall of a barely lit warehouse. I wonder how many porno movies Raging Stallion had filmed here under the same premise of forced sex. He put his right forarm over my collar bone. I tried to push him off but he was too strong. Also his emotions were pumping away, so that can make one even more powerful than high functional strength. He pressed his face against me and tried to kiss me. Maybe I should say he forced his tongue inside my mouth and stuck his hand down my pants at the same time. My dick wasn't hard. I was thinking of too many things and I didn't want to do anything with him tonight. "Let it happen," he kept saying. The idea of biting faces always grossed me out, but I bit his lip and tasted blood. He pulled his face back and I tasted more. I spat it in his face, and then he punched me in the face. I saw stars, yet kept thinking that having his blood in my mouth is a health risk.
"Don't I don't like it! Don't! Stop!" I was trying to cause a scene, but I was in a random alley way, under the freeways at night, in a somewhat questionable part of town. I'd been mugged before, which made me realize that no matter how much or how loud you scream, ain't nobody going to come and help. Ironically, the top floors of all the buildings are filled with expensive loft developments, but the wealthy who live in them hear people die on the street or whores getting raped on a daily basis. A few more nondescript screams aren't going to get the cops over here.
"Don't stop? OK, I won't then!" I realized that he had already taken his dick out and was already sporting a semi. What does one do in this situation? He wrestled me to the ground and started pounding on the back of my head with both of his fists. I guess I shouldn't have told him all that useful information I learned in those anatomy classes of the fastest ways to kill people or make them loose consciousness quickest. He was trying to make me black out. I saw stars, but managed to get him off off of me long enough to punch him in the stomach and he doubled over. His dick was out but pants were still up around his mid thighs. I figured this was my chance and totally thought I was about to get away. As I made run for it, he grabbed my ankle with one hand, the other hand still clutching his stomach. I fell to the ground and my arms covered my face, which all slammed against the concrete. It made me disoriented. He climbed on top of my back and held me down with all his body weight. The combination of all these intense experiences made me groggy, but obviously I knew what was happening. He was about to copulate with me. I always think it's strange how men always want to stick their dick in any hole, regardless of who or what it's on. More wasted jizz that will never turn into a baby.
With is upper body and big arms he held my torso to the ground. His front of his ribs were digging into the back of mine and he kept my face to the ground with one of his arms as he put his other one under my pelvis, raising my ass up. "Get your hole up here," he said, 2nd world spit trailing onto the back of my neck. Somehow he'd gotten my black 2xist tank top up and over my shoulders. That shit is paper thin, I was surprised he didn't just rip it off. I was also missing my pants, and my shoes, so I guess my skinny jeans had taken my shoes off as he wrenched me out of them. I was naked except for socks.
I was already thinking how if I went to the police they would do nothing but make my life more difficult, and probably even think "Get the fuck off of me you sick twisted fuck! I'm going to call the fucking police," I tried to think of where my phone could be. I guess somewhere in my pants, or somewhere in the alley way. I tried to squirm my way out from under him, but he had either fucked up my vision from hitting me in the back of the head, or the combined trauma from my forehead hitting the ground as well has me totally out of it. I thought it was totally fucked up that instead of raping me after giving me GHB or Special K, he decided to just fuck my brain up for reals. Who does that?
"You're going to take it bottom bitch. If you call the police I'll fucking kill you." It was at that moment I realized just how serious he was. Sure, I know people who break the law on a daily basis, and yes, I know people who know how to make drugs. At the end of the day, me and my peer group are living on the fringes of society. But I never thought I knew anyone that could or would kill. How deep did this shit go? Had he killed boyfriends before, cut their heads off and dumped the bodies in a ditch? I know the police never really care about bodies when they belong to ghetto faggots or sex workers. Wow, he really was a bitch I could roll with. He spat all over his index and middle finger and also in my hole. I was totally clenching, because I was nervous. I'd been fucked a lot, but my asshole wasn't super loose. Definitely not loose enough to be fucked sans lube. He stuck 2 fingers in me at once, and once again remembered why I never let him finger me. He never cut his finger nails and even when he did they were usually black underneath cause he was a ghetto bartender, always touching dirty shit. His dick had been rubbing against by butt cheek, his dick was hard and already wet at the end of it. "I have the best cock in the world, and I know you want it bitch. You always want it. You go crazy for it. You want it to happen."
Normally I like to bottom, especially if the cock is attached to a hot guy such as this one. I like to watch their bodies thrust me, it makes me feel like I'm the object of desire, which is in many ways powerful in my opinion. I love being hard while a dick is hitting all the right spots deep inside me. I have to be relaxed and into it, you know? In this case my dick could not have been more flaccid, looking at it was disgusting to me, cause it was an obvious barometer of how much fun I was having. I knew he was going to fuck me without a rubber, and I didn't want his 2nd world dick inside my shitbox without a plastic barrier device. I had no clue as to how many people he'd fucked, and even if I asked I knew he would never tell the truth about it. That's how guys are.
Before I knew what was happening, he'd put his penis inside my ass. I was yelling, how come nobody heard? Everyone in the club had the excuse because the music in there covers up anything. What about the hundreds of people who live in earshot of my screams. My mind wandered back to my childhood, when my mom told me about a famous murder that took place in the middle of the street, in the middle of downtown NYC, in the middle of the day. Some girl got stabbed to death in front of hundreds of witnesses, and nobody intervened or did a single thing to help. That seems like a good example of the way humans really are. If someone stumbled upon what was happening to me they'd probably just go home and jerk off to it anyways. At least his dick had a lot of slack to it because he was uncircumcised. Drips of pre-cum, blood, and smelly spit were dripping down my guiche and onto the back of my balls, before coming to a stop on the ground underneath my crotch. I felt like a little kid, when my dad would always touch my penis and stick his meth addict fingers inside my asshole. I was totally powerless.
I'm no stranger to getting pounded, but when it's essentially unwarranted, it's torture. "Get the fuck off me! I don't want to get AIDS!" I yelled, but just like the 10 minute tumbles in the sheets guys call sex, I could tell that he was really turned on and most likely was going to bust a nut soon. I never let a guy fuck me without a condom, especially him, mostly because I had no idea how many times he'd fucked raw. He claimed to have an AIDS test but he never showed it to me, so that might have been the truth and it might have been a lie. There's a big power in not telling people the truth, setting them up to live in a fantasy world of self design.
With the inside of his elbow he pulled my neck up, which at the same time made my ass go down. My legs were half apart, but not totally spread, so he was probably trying to tighten me up? He used to always bust nuts in condoms cause he liked cumming in my hole. I'd always prefer if a guy just pulls the condom off and jerks off all over me, cause it makes me feel like I'm good at something. After a little more I could feel him squirt inside me, which at any other time would have been comforting. He pulled his dick out of me and I could tell my hole would have retained the size of his dick, cause it was torn up and bleeding. I could feel drops of jizz falling off his dick all over my butt cheeks. My endorphins were going crazy but I still couldn't move. I rolled on to my back, my whole body in searing pain. I wasn't thinking about my hole because my head hurt so much. I knew I'd have a headache for at least 2 days. He picked up my pants sans underwear, and threw them on my chest.
He looked down at me with a supercilious look, like a child who'd just gotten an A on his or her math test. "See, I tell you I'm the best fuck babe," he told me, simultaneously pulling his pants up at the same time.
TO BE CONTINUED
Some people like being out of control; conversely some like to be controlled. I always find the most interesting dynamic in a sado-masochistic relationship that it's really the masochist who is in control the whole time, meaning they're the one who is really powerful, yet at the same time they achieve this power through total release of power & submission.... I'm not into S&M and wouldn't ever really get close to anyone who was. It seems unhealthy, like it's the result of abuse or trauma. That's beside the point. I guess that example just serves to illustrate my notion of how power is never the same, essentially existing in more than one place, at more than one time. I want to be powerful. They say we have the right to an education, and I wish I never dropped out of college cause I'm fascinated by psychology. I'm also fascinated by sex and power, because they're both part of the few overall themes of life. Sex, death, love, power, money, beauty, pain... all of these words mean the same to everyone, with respect to both value and expense.
I try to find ways in my life to be powerful, or to make myself more powerful. I've always been into rough sex. I mean, nothing too crazy, and I don't want to only have rough sex all the time. I guess it's a reflection of the way I feel at the time, which is always changing. Some of the best lays I've had haven't been the hottest guys or had the biggest dicks. Every time I got with a really hot guy I feel like he was just posing, and there was nothing more to him than the way he looks. I mean, I catch myself doing that too, but that's beside the point. If I'm bottoming for a guy I do like it when he spanks my ass, holds me down, throws me on the bed, bites, scratches, and bruises. I carry around bites and bruises with pride- it says "I am desirable enough to get people to have sex with me" and I don't mind people thinking I'm fucked up. I'm not good all the time, and I don't expect to be treated like a prince, cause I'm a pauper. You know, I always said that the first guy who could tell me what to do is the guy I'd spend the rest of my life with. Treats me like the bitch I am.
One of the hottest hookups I had was named Misha. I've always had a thing for Russian guys, because they're sketchy as fuck. They always have the exotic hard to find drugs like G.H.B. or Special K. I like their uncut penises, and tight eastern European bodies. I've noticed that mainly, there are 2 types of Russians- the lighter skinned ones to the Northwest, who look vaguely British only with way better bone structure and teeth, and then the dark ones who look mixed. Genetically speaking, many eastern Europeans are actually Chinese, due to a long term intermingling between the Caucasian and Mongoloids ancestral DNA combining throughout Eastern Europe and Western Asia. Misha was the latter... he looked Mongolian if anything, but was really into being Russian. He had such great cheekbones I always wondered why he chose to have long hair, because it totally hid those important lines. I wondered why he was so into his Russian heritage although he was obviously not just genetically Russian. It's strange when people see themselves as something just because it was the setting they grew up with.
He had really pretty tan skin with blue eyes, which I've always found to be the most appealing combination of coloring in my opinion. I love it when Black people wear grey contacts. What I liked most about him is how possessive he was over me, it really turned me on. He was taller than me by a few inches, and I think that he liked to look at me as something perfect, small and powerless that needed him to protect me. He grew up on the streets in Russia, and although he never really revealed the details of his past extensively, I had a feeling that he'd seen some shit. I met him through a mutual friend, and from the moment we gave each other a first meeting hug, I knew we had a lot of sexual chemistry. Touching him was electric; the first thing I noticed was his really meaty and perfectly symmetrical shoulder blades. He has a strong back, I thought to myself. He probably has a lot of confidence, that's pretty powerful.
"What it is, your name?" He asked me. "I think you are so cute." His accent was too good! It made me want to fall in love immediately. We don't have to talk anyways. I though it must be fun to be the hot foreigner, cause then everyone wants you so they all compete, and you get to pick the very best one. Aside from the shoulders, the other thing I notices was his great cheekbones, and perfect jaw line. No amount of plastic surgery can ever give someone good bone structure, cause it's genetic. We started having sex soon after that first meeting, at our friend's party. At first I was glad he was so much, it was fun being around him, and he has a very adventurous side which guaranteed anyone who spent an evening, or an early morning with him, a very good time indeed. He was always getting into trouble, in some way, most of the time. He told me a few times all his problems were from having bad luck, but at the end of the day he could have turned it all around if he wanted to. After the third time we had sex he started checking my phone, reading all my texts right in front of me. He had huge trust issues, and was always convinced I was sucking someone else's dick, yet at the same time always talked about wanting to have threesomes with me.
The sex was so good that I didn't want to get with anyone else, but he never believed me; the more I reassured him that I wanted to stick with him seemed to only further his feelings of self-doubt and powerlessness over the situation. His friends told me that he was always talking about how I was the one, and how he'd never been so much in love before, but has a weird way of showing it. What I liked about him is that he was so kinky. Sometimes, I tell a guy I have no limits, just so I can see how they react to that. I really don't have any limits. Well, I do. I'm not going to get anyone stick a hydrant up my ass, or kill me to get off on it in a sex type way. Misha really didn't seem to have any, and sometimes I wonder if he did some things to get himself off or for no reason at all. I always had cuts and bruises after a weekend with him, and I'm glad to say I always leave my mark on whichever guy I happen to be having sex with. I even let him drink my blood, which I thought was really hot. I never really knew anything about the last time he was tested, so I chose not to ingest any of his fluids, although we did pee on each other all kinds. What I liked a lot is that he would forcefully hold me down while fucking me, or punch my in the stomach in order to get me to submit to him. To make a long story short, the sex was amazing... but I guess that was mostly it. Misha has a shitty personality, and although he's really adventurous and passionate about life, he really wasn't that fun or happy, and wouldn't let me have a single guy friend. He was just too jealous to allow me to have any males in my life except for him.
Since our relationship was so hot, sometimes really scalding, it did have to get cold at some points. We had some legendary fights, even though I really hate conflict and do my best to avoid it at all costs. It's just so devolved to me. I would never try to claim that I got all wrapped up in an abusive relationship, because it's not the case. I hit him too, all the time. With guys, you have to be like that, especially if they're as crazy and ghetto as this motherfucker, because getting physical is the only way they will respond. However, the makeup sex after would just be so good that I couldn't help but ache for him, the center of which was deep inside my pelvis. He was such an amazing fuck, and although we'd usually only see each other a few times a week we'd always have sex for at least several hours. I'd always tell him he was just too good, and that was the only reason I couldn't quit him. I always knew he was bad for me. Because our relationship was so much all the time, it predictably fizzled out after 5 months. It just became too much to always deal with his constant bullshit and jealousy, and being treated like a possession. I never break up with guys, because I always want it to last as long as it possibly can... I really do try to believe in love at the end of the day, regardless of how delusional that happens to be.
Misha was the one guy I had to end it with, because even though he made me feel ways that no man was ever able to make me feel, he isolated me too much. He didn't really have any friends, and didn't want me to have any either, he wanted to be the only figure in my life. I understand where these feelings come from, essentially he tried to control me cause he was totally out of control of his own life. When the time came to end things, I could tell he would take it really hard. I couldn't really remember exactly what I said, cause I had never broken up with a boyfriend previously. I guess something to the effect of it's not working out. "How can you do this to me? You told me you loved me..." he said pitifully. I didn't know what to do! I wanted to love him, but I couldn't. He made it impossible. All I could think of was about all the times this has happened to him before. It seemed like more than a couple guys had probably taken all they could from this poor dude until getting totally over it and getting rid of him, never really giving it a second thought. He never really told me that much about himself, which is fine because I really didn't care anyways. I don't care who you are, or what you did. Still, my heart goes out to anyone who can't really get things right, and I'm always a sucker for hard luck stories. Even though everyones' lives are so different, and not everyone wants the same thing, when it comes to the main themes of life, everyone really does. Everyone wants most what they can't have, and he wanted me- probably 10 times more now that I told him he couldn't have me. Isn't wanting what you can't have the basis for attraction?
A few weeks went by, and aside from manic calls at four or five in the morning from a gaked out Russian, the only other ways he tried to contact me was through texts and e-mails. I replied to a text or two, just letting him down easy, insisting that we could still be friends, and insisting that he would totally get over me and find someone way better anyways. When boyfriends broke up with me in the past I totally would cut off 100% of communication, thinking it better to have them be totally out of my life if that's what they really wanted. There's something intensely powerful is cutting someone totally out of your life, essentially it's the worst way to hurt them, and hurt them the most. See, even when guys break up with me they come to regret it hella quickly, and always to re-establish a line of contact. But, if someone breaks my heart, it means I won't forgive them, and I will soon forget them. If someone hurts you bad enough then forgiveness is the reaction of a fool.
So one Saturday I went to a place I'm known to go to. Sometimes I go out alone. Sometimes I think that sounds really pitiful, but then sometimes I think that sounds really awesome, and shows my independence. Most of my friends work minimum wage jobs, which means they're not always able to just go wherever whenever. This night I was out alone. It only meant I would leave my house alone, and arrive at the club alone. I'm sure I'll see at least a few people I know, of course talk to some of them, hopefully meet any cute single friends they dragged out with them, and hopefully either get them to come home with me or go home with them. I'm not picky, I'll take what I can get. Dating has never been easy for me, aside from visualizing what I want most in the end, which is a boyfriend. I'm getting better at overcoming hopelessness and accepting the fact that everyone has to start somewhere, and that somewhere always seems like it's so far away that I'll never achieve it. I hope I meet someone who wants to stick it out with me, but I know goals like this don't achieve themselves, and I have to do something to make that happen. So, I'm assertive. I go up to cute guys and tell them I think they're cute. They either are sweet, or turn into bitchy egotists right after, and you never really know how they're going to act.
The reason Misha could never go up to guys he didn't know was because he was fundamentally insecure. Can't blame a person for that, there are many people like that in the world. I'm young, so I like to go out on Friday or Saturday nights. I still have a lot of energy, and even though occasionally on weekends I still have to work, but as long as I don't work until late I always find time to go out. Something, anything is better from sitting on the couch and watching TV while I go on the Internet. Life is so short, I want to grab it by the horns and have the most fun I can. I like to forget about everything bad that happened or is happening to me. Yeah, I haven't been able to really do anything with my life, I know superlatives are a total joke in the sense that the most or best are not realistically possible. Never will I be the most attractive, the richest, or the funniest guy in the club. I know I'll never be a star, although that's what I wish for more than anything- a way to get everyone to love me. I know the real reason I never get guys is cause I don't have a car. But tonight, I'm going to dance to amazing house music and be the fiercest fucker any of these club yuppies have ever laid eyes on. That can be something to want.
For many years I just assumed everyone was conspiring against me, that the rest of the world only existed to subvert my goals and give me nothing but opposition. I still think it's true, to a lesser extent, but from living outside of mainstream society, I was always horrified at the notion of the direction in which direction my life would go. I'll never wear a suit to work and sit at a desk taking advantage of people in 3rd world countries to increase profit margins. I'll never have a 9-5, never drive a nice car, never own my own house, and I know all my dreams aren't going to come true. I've accepted the fact that I'll never get married, and I'll never have kids. Even though this life can be so liberating, it's also terrifying. I forget sometimes that life isn't certain for anyone, however security is much more certain for the lucky ones, and many are practically guaranteed it. So what else is there to want? Just to have a good time I guess.
I was with Misha long enough for him to memorize my work schedule, and I know he listened to me enough when I spoke to remember some key details about me and what I like. I hoped that I wouldn't fun into him, and I'd been lucky so far, but I knew the eventual moment in time would come where we meet, and he's either nice and really fake or will start acting like a bitch immediately. I hoped for the best, realistically expecting the worst. I guess tonight was my lucky night. In the middle of a conversation with a nice guy I feel a tap on my left shoulder. "Well, look at which ho decided to come out and parade her ass through through the bars tonight," he said with a smirk, but I couldn't tell if he was trying to be hurtful to make himself feel better, or to try to make me insecure in front of other people.
"Girl, I have thick highlights. I can do, say, or be whatever the fuck I want." Since English was my first language, there were some ways that he could just never beat me. Sure he's taller, cuter, buffer, and arguably more interesting than I am, but definitely not smarter. Or maybe I just psych myself up to thinking that's true and that's what makes it true. It's anyone's guess what really makes some people smart and others stupid. The guys standing around me laughed him. Gay guys can usually read people fairly well. It comes from having the rest of the world read us on a daily basis. "Look, if you want to talk you know I'm always here for you. You know I'm not trying to make your life harder. I told you a million times I hope you get what you want." If I've had sex with someone before it creates an unspoken bond for life. I'll always think back back to them at various points throughout my life forever, just purely from the fact that I'd crossed boundaries with them that I hadn't crossed with just anyone. I'm one of those people who can remember all the guys I've been with. I was being diplomatic yet real.
"Why would I want to talk to you? You're only good for fucking, and that's it. Your mouth ain't made for talking, and you know that." I could tell he was still upset when I explained that as far as our compatibility goes, it was purely sexual. Why he is trying to embarrass me in front of peers? Ironically, it wasn't going to work considering that everyone knows I'm not a slut. "OK fine. Then don't expect me to use it to speak to you, in that case. Don't follow me around tonight. I'm trying to be charming. Don't follow me to the other places I'm going to go. I was hoping that we could be cordial but you're being too immature about the situation." I always seemed to have to take the authority and speak to him like a parent. Usually he liked to be told what to do. I wonder if he ever had a real parental figure in his whole life. It's unfair to expect your significant other to be your parents. And it sets the relationship up for a quick failure.
Parallel, he always got really pissed whenever he thought I was talking down to him. "Seriously, you need to leave me alone tonight! Look, I'll talk to you soon, but now is not a good time, OK!?" I put a lot of stress on the word OK in the hopes my tone would send a message. They say most of communication is not the words one speaks, but the tone in which one speaks. I didn't understand what it was about the way I was communicating him that was being so ineffective, cause he looked at me like like he was looking right though me. I wonder what it feels like to be so powerful? He gave me the look of a sad child who's done something wrong, but only for a split second. The look quickly contorted into anger. He wasn't getting what he wants. Opposition. All of us face it. How can one still be powerful in face of opposition? "Look, I'm going somewhere else. All my friends are just going to talk shit about you anyways." Shit, that wasn't what I meant. I know he really cares what people think. I'm not trying to set him off, or make him look bad in front of potential boyfriends.
I got in a cab with one of my close friends Rob and we went across town to the SOMA. Sure the guys will be 2 decades older and most likely HIV positive, you know what else? They're only going to be nice, and only serving big plates of smiles. They'll respect boundaries when you tell them no, and if you think they're judging you it's totally projected. They're only want to make me feel good about myself. Drama free is the way to be. I'm trying to get negative forces out of my life cause I'm psychically, physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. I'm tired of all the time, and I know it's from psychic vampires. I'm sure you can guess what I mean. I'm referring to those people who although special and magical in their own way, have this strange power in that they are able to suck the life out of people around them, or suck all the energy out of an entire room of people just by being themselves. Or perhaps, the friend who is upset so they call you purely for the attempt to make you upset as well. These people are to be avoided at all costs. Besides, I'm the only psychic vampire who is allowed to take others energy.
So we went to Club 8, which seems to draw a younger crowd. I take pleasure in the fact that all the major porn production companies shoot all that sexy gay porn within a 10 block radius of where I'm standing right now. The sexual force of nature from the 70s never really left, and even now you can always see guys walking around in pigs masks on a daily basis. Sometimes, it scares me. I guess I mean it makes me feel inadequate, like sex means nothing to me because I can't be it. I can't be sex. It wasn't long before a cute Mexican guy made friends with Rob, so they went upstairs probably just to make out and feel each others dicks through jeans. This club, in the big scheme of things is upscale, and it wasn't a former sex club and they don't have a place for sex inside it. I don't mind that, in face it takes the pressure off me. I don't really want to get off with someone unless they're my man or could potentially become my man. You have to always try things out first to make sure they're good. The bathrooms are clean but they still smell like piss.
10 mins went by, and the first article of the gay constitution, I found someone to fuck so we'll talk some other time, was now in full effect. I accepted the fact that I would probably not see Rob again tonight, and was excited that he found someone to get off with. It's cool, I saw 2 guys I recognized from school, so that gave me the chance to shoot the shit with someone. I always like to meet new friends. And new old friends. The music was ok. The club was cool, but after the second drag performance I was getting tired. Misha was making me nervous earlier and I still had the residual feelings deep inside my stomach. I didn't want to have sex with anyone tonight. I was drinking earlier but now I was just coming down. I'd actually been out of the house for about 3 or 4 hours now and it was cold. I put on my jacket and stood against the back wall. I'd always dreamed about this as a kid- a room full of hot guys all of whom were attracted to me. Does this mean dreams really do come true? I accepted this happy realization and tried to make it linger. I try to keep hold of good feelings as long as I can.
The world is so fundamentally dark. If you're not in your bed, it seems like everything is cold, hard, and inviting. We live in concrete mazes, stone and glass, sharp and clean, hard like my heart, with no romantic illusions of changing the world. Opposition faces you at every turn and nobody ever seems to get what they want. Who gives a shit? I was fierce tonight, and everyone wanted me. I always get whatever I want. I looked behind me and noticed Misha walking through the club. He knows I come here, so he probably was looking for me... I wonder if he's been to my other stomping grounds tonight. Regardless, this was all bad, so I went out the back door. I hoped he didn't notice me leave, because I do have a somewhat memorable walk. People come from around the world to admire my killer ass. We never made eye contact but like a Siamese fighting fish, he always quickly goes on the attack. I looked behind me and noticed that Misha followed me through the back doors and out of the club. The cold wind hit me like a ton of bricks, as it always does, because I hate the cold and never seem to escape it. Statistically, San Francisco has a colder yearly average than Alaska. It's the weather that will eventually make me leave.
But it was that fucking asshole back at the club that made me leave tonight, he was really bumming my stone! You know I bet the reason Misha never wears a coat is because it probably snowed in Russia. I liked how he sweated easily here, I liked the way his balls smelled. "So now you got some more clothes on, I guess," he said to me running up from behind. I wasn't mad but I was annoyed. I just couldn't deal with his bull shit, and whenever situations arise in which I'm probably going to crazy on some bitch's ass, I usually like to take myself out of the situation completely, I've found that it's the only thing that works for me. "What do you want from me? What do you want me to say or do?" I asked furtively. I was hoping to scare him off off tonight by being aggressive. "I want for you to say you love me," he yelled, when I expected him to wimper it.
I wondered what was going through his brain? Who has time to follow someone around all night. "I love you! I fucking love you so much it's making me sick. You're the best baby, the only man for me." I was being obviously sarcastic, due to the fact he couldn't always pick up subtleties like sarcasm or humor since he was foreign. "You're the best dick I've ever had!" Misha grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me against a concrete wall. It only hurt my shoulder blades themselves. I pushed him off of of me but it only seemed to fuel his fire. He grabbed me again and did the same thing. "Misha, stop it! What the fuck is your problem? I could give a shit less about your shitty and fucked up ghetto past. You can't just do whatever you want to, whenever you want to. You're acting like a crazy bitch."
"You do this to me. You love to torture me." I mean, in a way what he was saying was true, but not how he meant it. I like to be the one in control, and if someone in a love relationship with me is going through some power struggle with me then yes, I would love to tortue them. Only if they do something to deserve it. There can be only one. And in a healthy relationship like this things of this nature never even pop up, they're never even an issue.
"You're crazy. I keep telling you I wish you the best and I hope all your dreams come true and shit. How may time have to told you I hope you get what you want, it just can't be me? You're damaged. You lower my worth." I never like to be nasty, but he was giving me no choice. He pushed me up against a building again, the concrete wall of a barely lit warehouse. I wonder how many porno movies Raging Stallion had filmed here under the same premise of forced sex. He put his right forarm over my collar bone. I tried to push him off but he was too strong. Also his emotions were pumping away, so that can make one even more powerful than high functional strength. He pressed his face against me and tried to kiss me. Maybe I should say he forced his tongue inside my mouth and stuck his hand down my pants at the same time. My dick wasn't hard. I was thinking of too many things and I didn't want to do anything with him tonight. "Let it happen," he kept saying. The idea of biting faces always grossed me out, but I bit his lip and tasted blood. He pulled his face back and I tasted more. I spat it in his face, and then he punched me in the face. I saw stars, yet kept thinking that having his blood in my mouth is a health risk.
"Don't I don't like it! Don't! Stop!" I was trying to cause a scene, but I was in a random alley way, under the freeways at night, in a somewhat questionable part of town. I'd been mugged before, which made me realize that no matter how much or how loud you scream, ain't nobody going to come and help. Ironically, the top floors of all the buildings are filled with expensive loft developments, but the wealthy who live in them hear people die on the street or whores getting raped on a daily basis. A few more nondescript screams aren't going to get the cops over here.
"Don't stop? OK, I won't then!" I realized that he had already taken his dick out and was already sporting a semi. What does one do in this situation? He wrestled me to the ground and started pounding on the back of my head with both of his fists. I guess I shouldn't have told him all that useful information I learned in those anatomy classes of the fastest ways to kill people or make them loose consciousness quickest. He was trying to make me black out. I saw stars, but managed to get him off off of me long enough to punch him in the stomach and he doubled over. His dick was out but pants were still up around his mid thighs. I figured this was my chance and totally thought I was about to get away. As I made run for it, he grabbed my ankle with one hand, the other hand still clutching his stomach. I fell to the ground and my arms covered my face, which all slammed against the concrete. It made me disoriented. He climbed on top of my back and held me down with all his body weight. The combination of all these intense experiences made me groggy, but obviously I knew what was happening. He was about to copulate with me. I always think it's strange how men always want to stick their dick in any hole, regardless of who or what it's on. More wasted jizz that will never turn into a baby.
With is upper body and big arms he held my torso to the ground. His front of his ribs were digging into the back of mine and he kept my face to the ground with one of his arms as he put his other one under my pelvis, raising my ass up. "Get your hole up here," he said, 2nd world spit trailing onto the back of my neck. Somehow he'd gotten my black 2xist tank top up and over my shoulders. That shit is paper thin, I was surprised he didn't just rip it off. I was also missing my pants, and my shoes, so I guess my skinny jeans had taken my shoes off as he wrenched me out of them. I was naked except for socks.
I was already thinking how if I went to the police they would do nothing but make my life more difficult, and probably even think "Get the fuck off of me you sick twisted fuck! I'm going to call the fucking police," I tried to think of where my phone could be. I guess somewhere in my pants, or somewhere in the alley way. I tried to squirm my way out from under him, but he had either fucked up my vision from hitting me in the back of the head, or the combined trauma from my forehead hitting the ground as well has me totally out of it. I thought it was totally fucked up that instead of raping me after giving me GHB or Special K, he decided to just fuck my brain up for reals. Who does that?
"You're going to take it bottom bitch. If you call the police I'll fucking kill you." It was at that moment I realized just how serious he was. Sure, I know people who break the law on a daily basis, and yes, I know people who know how to make drugs. At the end of the day, me and my peer group are living on the fringes of society. But I never thought I knew anyone that could or would kill. How deep did this shit go? Had he killed boyfriends before, cut their heads off and dumped the bodies in a ditch? I know the police never really care about bodies when they belong to ghetto faggots or sex workers. Wow, he really was a bitch I could roll with. He spat all over his index and middle finger and also in my hole. I was totally clenching, because I was nervous. I'd been fucked a lot, but my asshole wasn't super loose. Definitely not loose enough to be fucked sans lube. He stuck 2 fingers in me at once, and once again remembered why I never let him finger me. He never cut his finger nails and even when he did they were usually black underneath cause he was a ghetto bartender, always touching dirty shit. His dick had been rubbing against by butt cheek, his dick was hard and already wet at the end of it. "I have the best cock in the world, and I know you want it bitch. You always want it. You go crazy for it. You want it to happen."
Normally I like to bottom, especially if the cock is attached to a hot guy such as this one. I like to watch their bodies thrust me, it makes me feel like I'm the object of desire, which is in many ways powerful in my opinion. I love being hard while a dick is hitting all the right spots deep inside me. I have to be relaxed and into it, you know? In this case my dick could not have been more flaccid, looking at it was disgusting to me, cause it was an obvious barometer of how much fun I was having. I knew he was going to fuck me without a rubber, and I didn't want his 2nd world dick inside my shitbox without a plastic barrier device. I had no clue as to how many people he'd fucked, and even if I asked I knew he would never tell the truth about it. That's how guys are.
Before I knew what was happening, he'd put his penis inside my ass. I was yelling, how come nobody heard? Everyone in the club had the excuse because the music in there covers up anything. What about the hundreds of people who live in earshot of my screams. My mind wandered back to my childhood, when my mom told me about a famous murder that took place in the middle of the street, in the middle of downtown NYC, in the middle of the day. Some girl got stabbed to death in front of hundreds of witnesses, and nobody intervened or did a single thing to help. That seems like a good example of the way humans really are. If someone stumbled upon what was happening to me they'd probably just go home and jerk off to it anyways. At least his dick had a lot of slack to it because he was uncircumcised. Drips of pre-cum, blood, and smelly spit were dripping down my guiche and onto the back of my balls, before coming to a stop on the ground underneath my crotch. I felt like a little kid, when my dad would always touch my penis and stick his meth addict fingers inside my asshole. I was totally powerless.
I'm no stranger to getting pounded, but when it's essentially unwarranted, it's torture. "Get the fuck off me! I don't want to get AIDS!" I yelled, but just like the 10 minute tumbles in the sheets guys call sex, I could tell that he was really turned on and most likely was going to bust a nut soon. I never let a guy fuck me without a condom, especially him, mostly because I had no idea how many times he'd fucked raw. He claimed to have an AIDS test but he never showed it to me, so that might have been the truth and it might have been a lie. There's a big power in not telling people the truth, setting them up to live in a fantasy world of self design.
With the inside of his elbow he pulled my neck up, which at the same time made my ass go down. My legs were half apart, but not totally spread, so he was probably trying to tighten me up? He used to always bust nuts in condoms cause he liked cumming in my hole. I'd always prefer if a guy just pulls the condom off and jerks off all over me, cause it makes me feel like I'm good at something. After a little more I could feel him squirt inside me, which at any other time would have been comforting. He pulled his dick out of me and I could tell my hole would have retained the size of his dick, cause it was torn up and bleeding. I could feel drops of jizz falling off his dick all over my butt cheeks. My endorphins were going crazy but I still couldn't move. I rolled on to my back, my whole body in searing pain. I wasn't thinking about my hole because my head hurt so much. I knew I'd have a headache for at least 2 days. He picked up my pants sans underwear, and threw them on my chest.
He looked down at me with a supercilious look, like a child who'd just gotten an A on his or her math test. "See, I tell you I'm the best fuck babe," he told me, simultaneously pulling his pants up at the same time.
TO BE CONTINUED
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Chad 5,955
Everyone is fucked up. It's stupid to try and pretend otherwise. I guess the first time I realized love isn't real is when my father started having sex with me, my mom essentially turning a blind eye even though she knew everything. They say something like 30 percent of kids are sexual abuse survivors, but that's probably just the ones who say something. Every guy likes to fuck kids. Not me though. I'm younger for older. I love beefy older guys, tore back faces, the kind of blue collar look that makes you realize how much a hard life can age you. I like to see people's life stories written on their faces. The harsh lines of suffering that life bestows upon us all.
I guess it's the ruggedness that I find attractive, attractive cause it's powerful, powerful because it's inaccessible for me. I like something to make them human- a scar, an imperfection, anything to make it feel real and dispel the unrealistic fantasy of perfect beauty. Yet, at the same time, and at the risk of sounding egocentric, I do happen to be perhaps the most beautiful man of our time. At least that's what people who pay me for sex tell me. It's for this reason that I make a living off selling my body, appealing to people's most basic instincts. Life isn't sacred, and this body's not a temple. Someone like me is often put the position of realizing just how base and disgusting yet predictable people, but especially men, happen to be.
I have a lot of friends who think of their holes as cum dumpsters, but I'm not that stupid. I like to think of these people as jizz receptacles. I've never let anyone come in me, because at the end of the day, regardless of how miserable I really am, and no matter how much I accept the fact that life is totally meaningless, I can never do anything to hurt myself or stop my life. Life wants to exist, and it's a natural progression in life to always want more life. I don't believe in anything, except for that life wants to exist. Self-preservation at any cost. That's why I have to figure some way to make money, cause I really will die if I keep earning less than 20K a year. In this economy? Bitch plz. It's ridiculously easy work. Doing something with my body has always seemed like one of the easiest things, perhaps because developmentally speaking, movement comes first. First we crawl until we walk, then walk until we run. It's not soon after that we start to fuck, and even eunuchs never seem to loose that urge. I always felt like anything physical is just about as easy at it comes...
Obviously, I realize I'm someone who, in the big scheme of things, doesn't really have any boundaries. Or maybe any boundaries left. It's scary to realize that at times, I put myself into very dangerous situations. Sex and death are so closely aligned it's sometimes hard to tell the difference. On a more basic instinct level, I realize one boundary I'm missing is burning thee candle at both ends- I mean to say pushing my body to it's absolute physical limit. However, I do feel one learns a lot about one's self through doing things of this nature, I blame on it on your sped up blood flow, that's got to affect the way a brain operates what with more of everything pumping through it. Having sex with older guys is like walking on thin ice. Since HIV has been around since before I was born, I automatically see crow's feet and think positive. I never had a dad (who did?) and I often wonder if that's the reason why I find older guys so appealing, and being with them such a healing experience.
For a long time I wrestled with my attraction... why would I like something considered by many to be bad? I guess by many people I mean to say people within my peer group. What was it about these kinds of people that I find attractive? It this cause I never had a dad and have always been desperately seeking the approval of a father figure? Moreover, how can someone as complex and multidimensional as me be so predictable, essentially weak minded? Whenever I see 2 guys hugging I always want to be in the middle... but only if they're big and beefy with 2 big hairy bellies pressing against one another. I like body hair, all over. It really turns me on. 2 daddies are better than none, and since me and everyone I've ever met has no daddy, it means there's a huge daddy hole up in the motherfucker, I'll take what I can get.
***
My Saturday mornings usually start out very differently, but always seem to end the same. Obviously, since I get paid to have sex with guys, as a result I get laid a lot in one sense. However, since I rarely have more than 5 or 6 paying customers a month, I still have a huge unfulfilled sexual emptiness inside. All those recent studies say that you're supposed to have at the very least one orgasm a day. I care about my sexual health, like I said I never let guys bust a nut in me, and I never swallow. Not even if I were to have a boyfriend do I think I would swallow. It tastes like shit. I wish that I could be a high priced escort, but in reality I'm a cheap whore, and rarely get paid more than $100 for any encounter. To put it into perspective, the cheapest of street crack whores will rarely go under 40. Ironically, peep shows only pay bitches $4 to show off their pussy holes! People who come to me regularly give me shit about even paying that much... I have to hustle as hard as possible to squeeze every penny I can get out of these tightwad faggots. Just like everyone the dream is to fall in love and live happily ever, but that fantasy doesn't even come true for the elite, much less a mid priced sex worker such as myself. I find myself sometimes thinking if he could be the one regardless of who I'm with. I want it to be real, but I know the world doesn't work like that.
By Saturday night I'm always ready to get on the bus and go to the bars and clubs. To be honest, Saturday nights means the most men, which means the best possible opportunity for sex. True, many people are just tourists, people from the suburbs who aren't real city people I guess is what I mean to say. Obviously, there are lots of people there who are also residents, but I'm not opposed to going places, especially if they have a car and are going to drive me. I always feel safe in cars, even though you're more likely to die in a car crash than any other way. Well, excluding natural causes. I always feel like life is spinning out of control, that this is the real generation with no future, and I'm continually crossing boundaries that were never meant to be crossed. But when I'm in a car, I finally feel like I'm doing something, It makes me feel real, like I have nothing to worry about. What could possibly go wrong? I'm finally doing something, I'm actually going somewhere...
So I'm out enjoying the sights, seeing who's hot and playing the game. I like to gently brush my hands across men I'm attracted to as I walk past- never inappropriate, just lightly over the stomach of across their backs. I won't have sex with just anyone, after all. They have to pay. And when I fuck for pleasure I'm even more selective. Not to say I'm looking for perfection, because I myself am not even perfect, although I like to think I am. I have nice skin, and a well laid out face, good bone structure and a tight body. Everyone cares so much about bodies, but I'm obsessed with faces. I like scars, something to make them human, real, and tangible. But yeah, I think I touched on that before. I hate meth but I like meth scratched faces. I like beards and stubble. I like beefy, but I also like beer guts. I guess I mostly like masculinity. I like guys who look like they could protect me if tricks want to get fresh and rob me... or kill me and dump my body in a ditch somewhere.
So I have threesomes a lot. On the off chance that I happen to be looking at porn, I pretty much only watch orgy or sometimes gangbangs. Just 2 dicks are so boring. I like having threesomes and fourgies, but it's sometimes harder to come... I guess cause there's so much going on, and so much dick. When I'm with just one person, and it's not work, what gets me off is the mutual pleasure. We can make each other feel good. But when guys pay me for sex they always want their boyfriend to join in, or in some cases just watch/videotape. Not like I mind, as far as jobs go mine is pretty cushy, and if I can make a few hundred in just a few hours per month, who is the real idiot? The whore who works maybe 15 hour a month total or the tool in a cubicle wasting 70 hours of life per week? I could never live a 9 to 5 lifestyle. In fact, I don't think it's healthy. All of the studies suggest it.
What I like about San Francisco is all the sex fairs. I have a young face, so I do sometimes get insecure in a sense and feel out of place, mostly because I project a discriminating and critiquing eye onto all those who gaze upon me. I know others think that I think that I'm too good for them, that I'm hot shit, when in reality I'm not that picky, and someone as ghetto as I am, who lives on the fringes of society can't afford to be picky. I'm kinky too, and I'm into fucked up shit. Obviously, people go places like Folsom and Up Your Alley cause they're into S&M, and I'm really just not. I just want to have sex with the people who look like they might be into it. Ruff stuff. When you go to bars and clubs the guys are so clean cut, so corporate, desperately trying to fit into society, they're all tops but would bottom for the right guy (they're all bottoms) and instead of trying to get creative and inventive, choose to try and have sex like straight people. Clearly defined roles, objectives, expectations, and lives. God how boring.
So sometimes I go to the Powerhouse in the attempt to go home with a hot daddy or daddies. In the immortal words of Sandra Hope, founder and CEO of Mate Check, "Guys are all the same." When you fully accept this axiomatic truth, it becomes SO easy to deal with men. All you have to do is tell them that you think they're cute, and that really is all it usually takes. Guys want to fuck all the time, and if they know they can fuck you they will. This makes it laughably easy to manipulate them, and then do whatever you want. So here I am on a Saturday night. The moon is full, the booze is being poured, and everyone is either discreetly or not so discreetly doing his drug of choice. Most like hard drugs, but for me just a drink or two is enough. I only smoke cigarettes if I'm drinking booze. Watch me never get addicted.
I understand why addiction exists, but I've always found that overall, the way that drugs make people feel is the same way I can make myself feel. I like to remember things, even though happy times are few and far between, and I remember the bad times all too well. I came to the club with a friend, who promptly said bye to me after he found someone to go home with. I always do that to other people, there's no animosity in my tone. Just jealousy. I love it when people are on a mission, and find someone to go home with before 11 pm. Skills! Or maybe its just that everyone is equally filthy and desperate on the inside, and the only way to mitigate, to derive some sense of value is through the approval of others. Proving to oneself that one is desirable and desired. When someone says I love you, they really mean to say I love the way you make me feel about myself. When someone says they're addicted to you, what they really mean is I'm addicted to the way you make me feel. You see, all of these feelings are simply internal, they're not for the world, and hardly external. All it takes is the smallest action, the simplest of initiations. A glance, a touch, or maybe just an offer to get someone a drink...
"What's your name? You've got to be the cutest boy in the club tonight. Can I get u something to drink?" His forearms were big and hairy, but he was actually an inch and a half shorter than I am. He had a really friendly face, and I could tell this one at some point lifted weights. Black collared shirt, probably from h&m but with expensive dark denim jeans. Why do men always call me a boy when I'm a man? Guy works just as well. Nicely shaped shoulders, with chest hair sticking out of the middle of the color. What hair he had left was mostly salt and pepper, but he had softness to him that was really appealing.
"My name is Chad, short for Chadric," I replied while smiling with my eyes. I don't understand why some people find a club setting the perfect stage to scowl and pout. People go to clubs to meet people. I want to meet people. I don't like to be alone. I wondered to myself what this guy did this morning, and throughout the day leading to the eventual decision to come to a club. I guess if he asks I won't say I'm a prostitute. "I guess just a shot of jager. I've seen you here before. What's your name, and where are you from?" I was telling the truth cause I had seen him before, around. But I've seen everyone before, someplace at some time. I guessed he was not from California, cause he carried himself in the way that hot people who don't know they're hot tend to carry themselves.
"My name's Tom, short for Thomas. I'm from Georgia originally. I've got to tell you, you have such beautiful skin- it glows, even in the darkest recesses of a seedy gay club." I definitely appreciate anyone with a sense of humor. Life is so shitty all the time, might as well laugh at something if possible. I knew that tonight, or should I say early this morning, I was probably going to get fucked. I like that feeling, anticipation of what's yet to come. Pardon the pun. "So what do you do for a living?"
"I work at a non-profit," I replied, which is usually what I say when people ask. I like to keep secrets, especially when they might be ones that could potentially cause me problems. He invited me over to a group of men from the same demographic. They seem nice I guess. These are the kinds of people who pay me to do nasty things. There were a lot of guys out, and people don't usually arrive to bars and clubs until about midnight or 12:30. The music was hot, and there were guys all around, so in between mingling with my newly found friends and showing of on the dance floor I still managed to get a couple of drinks bought for me. I love it when people do things to please me. People should worship me as the deity that I happen to be.
Eventually it was time to leave the club. I got into Tom's car. 2 of his friends got in, I think their names were John or Jacob- or something biblical sounding like that. It was at that moment I realized that tonight, or should I say early this morning, I was probably going to get fucked by at least 2 guys. Tom drove a BMW, but it was kind of old, so although I was impressed it's still whatever. Besides, it's my dream to drive a Mercedes, Infiniti, or Lexus. It will never happen, but a person has to dream. "Do you want to come home with me tonight?" Tom asked, his voice going up in pitch at the end of the question. Pleading with me. I wonder what he wanted to do to me sexually. A lot of times they want you to stick your dick in their ass.
"Only if I can drive!" It's that boyish sense of adventure and mystery of the world that they wanted, because theirs had long since burned out. I had enough to spare. Stay young forever, never grow old, and never die. He told me he lived in upper market, so I knew I'd only be behind the wheel for like 10 mins. I love to drive, it's really reassuring for me, cause I'm finally doing something. There's nobody in my life to hold me accountable, so that's why I slipped through the cracks and wasn't able to do anything with my life. On the way back all they talked about was trying to loose weight and failing or about money. Old people can be so boring, why do they have to be so real? One of Tom's friends was talking about not being able to get a man... it was at that moment that I realized how crazy they really were, and it was all generational. They'd been made to feel dirty and disgusting their entire lives. I wonder if that affects people negatively? If they're not happy then it's cause they think they're not worth it.
After we dropped one of his friends off, we got to Tom's house. I was a little drunk, but I'll never get a D.U.I. because I can always hold my shit together, as some people can. John and Tom followed me upstairs through the apartment complex, it was as if I was following an internally led path. I always try to follow my intuition. He lives in a nice area but probably has to work the bullshit office job from hell. I was nonetheless excited for all the boundaries I was going to cross with these guys tonight. Another person, another boundary to cross. I'm short and somewhat on the thin side, and I'm vers, but never just the bottom bitch people usually see me as being. I couldn't wait to turn it around on them and stick my dick in both their asses. After we got inside, I couldn't help but start touching these guys. They were sweet, and I know they would only make me feel good tonight.
Tom pushed me down on his bed and got on top of me, I could feel the whole weight of his body everywhere. He kissed me deep, he had stubble everywhere and it was really turning me on. He was a good kisser, I suppose, but was trying to pull all of this porn star bullshit and sticking his tongue out way too much. Maybe he was trying to turn his friend on. Maybe they'd been lovers in the past, but it didn't seem that way, just cause they weren't sharing the inside jokes and references that people who are really close with one another tend to share all the time. John had already taken his clothes totally off and left just white briefs and socks on. I love to feel a man's weight on my body. He stuck his hand between my thighs and pushed down hard on my hard penis. I hope we can suck each others dicks. I wanted to such John's dick too. I struggled to get Tom off me and took my shirt off. John put his face up to mine and our mouths met, gently pulling back my hair as he looked down and sucked on my upper lip. He had nice skin, and was white but a little darker than Tom. Black hair everywhere all over his body, and looked somewhat fit, but mostly beefy if I had to describe them.
I love kissing, I really could kiss all night. Both of them kissed me and then I backed up and told them I want them to kiss each other really passionately and I'll watch. When I'm not working, I like to be lazy, I don't have to be in the middle of the action at all times. A ho has to be able to catch her breath. Shit. I watched Tom mount John, the same way he did with me, then bend down with and rub John's dick all over his tits and chest hair. He even was rubbing his dick on his stubble, which would hurt me but some guys seem to like it. He stuck his tongue out and flicked the end of it horizontally and vertically on John's frenulum. I saw him stick the tip of his tongue in John's piss slit, which is a trick I myself like to pull on guys. He put his thumb and index on the tip and the most sensitive part of his dick vigorously which made John's back arch in ecstasy. John was cut but he seemed to really enjoy the sensation. Maybe he had a lot of slack left. Seeing Tom being an oral top made me want to finger his hole and stick my dick in after. I always keep my finger nails super short to make sure not to hurt anyone. Seeing these guys getting it on was turning me on so much. I feel like I'm always performing, that all my sex is on stage, and I'm always trying to gauge what to do and how to act in order to turn the other person on and do whatever it is they want. It's fun, but after a while one just wants the client to hurry up and bust a nut. I watched him play with John's balls until I could no longer resist the urge to stick my face in John's guiche. I wanted to know what he smells like. I started to suck on one of his nuts, they were both really big but managed to get one in mouth and still be able to suck in air around the testicle, I knew that would feel good on his raphe. I usually put my mouth in the middle of balls and get all the skin I can into my mouth, while I trace the outline of the asshole with my finger. John was swampy, but I could tell it was just from being sweaty this evening. I wasn't going to lick his ass cause I only like to lick ass on younger guys. Their holes are still tight and really sensitive, so you can lick it all night and they still won't want to be fucked, even though they're going crazy.
"Let's get your friend naked," I said to John. John pulled off Tom's shirt while I undid his jeans, and pulled his pants and underwear off both at once. He had hard hairy balls held close to his body. They were connected to a very white, fat dick, and I could tell his asshole was probably pink too, cause his skin was pretty light all over. His dick was hard, and he was uncut, but the only one of us who was. I like uncut penis cause it's easier to make it cum, nothing sucks more than being really turned on and not able to bust a nut, because you're nervous or whatever. His penis was a pretty light shade of tan, and the hair on his thighs was blond, but pubic hair was brown. I love blond body hair, and could not but help myself to run my hands up and down this man's thick calves. Fuck, calves turn me on so much, I think that's probably my favorite part of a man's body. I guess he has the blond body hair cause of the light eyes.
"Stick your dick in his ass. I want to see you fuck him," I said with a smirk. John got on all fours, and I slapped his ass hard with my left hand. I fingered his ass for a min, then Tom buried his big face in his friend's hole. Since John obviously wasn't one for manscaping, and Tom's face was really scratchy I hoped no tissues back there got damaged in the vigorous ass eating I was watching. I got John to lay on his back and sat on his face, his tongue was really talented. I've been fucked a lot but my hole is still pretty sensitive, and my dick was rock hard the whole time. John licked my ass, as Tom licked his ass while jerking off. Tom rolled on a condom, and stood up. He rubbed the end of his dick around John's asshole, getting him ready to be penetrated. He poured a bunch of lube around the outside of his friend's ass, then put some all over his cock. He slapped the end of his dick against the hole, then slid it in with ease, deep all the way in, then pulled it more than half way out. I guess he was loosening his friend up. I got on top of John and started to suck his dick. It kind of smelled cause another person had been sucking it that night. His dick was so hard, and from the curve and the angle I was able to deep throat and hold it in for such a long a time that I impressed even myself. It must feel good to fuck and get fucked at the same time.
Tom told me that he was vers, so I asked if I could fuck him and he said yes. I rolled on a rubber, and stood behind him, and spit all over his hole and my hand, and worked his hole so he'd be turned on while I was fucking him. Safe sex is so important. Tom's dick was securely in John's shitbox, but I'm sure his hole was a little worked out. Tom had a nice backside, the hole was a little loose but still felt good to put my dick all the way inside. When I top guys I like to go really slow and gentle, usually go balls deep and just take it out a little. It feels best to a bottom if you try to go all the way in and just make sure the tip is hitting all the right spots up inside. Topping well can make a soft dick on a bottom get a lot harder. It feels good on my penis, but I want to make sure Tom likes me fucking him. I love making a guy come when my dick is inside him cause the hole spasms when they shoot loads, and it feels so good, almost like you're fucking an ass and getting head at the same time. At this point there were hella assholes getting fucked. Sometimes guys can't get that hard while being penetrated, but these ones didn't seem to have any problems. I guess it's because they've they'd had an awful lot of practice at this point, and they know how to "feel" really quickly, as well as knowing what to expect. I always try to be someone's best fuck, I want to be a sexual force of nature that has huge impacts on others lives.
I fucked Tom while standing up, and he fucked John missionary. My dick kept falling out of Tom's ass, but he always moaned when I put it back in. I wonder what he thinks about when he's jerking off? It's kind of hard to fuck someone who's fucking, especially if he thrusts a lot. I guess Tom thinks the motion of his hips is what turns a bottom on, but I know if I'm bottoming I just want to feel a talented dick that hits me in all the right places, and the thrusting has very little to do with it. Tom was Jerking John off, and even though his dick was hard I had a feeling that he wasn't going to cum soon. I didn't know about Tom, just because it seemed like he was turning himself on a lot just by the way he fucks.
I pulled my dick out of Tom's ass because I didn't want to cum. I like sex to last a long time, and only 20 minutes had gone by. 20 mins is a long time to take a dick as well, in my opinion. I never understand when guys apologize for sex taking too long. Nobody wants to fuck for a minute or two. "I want to suck you guys off," I offered. I sat down on my butt, and Tom stuck his dick in me, then thrusted in and pushed it down the back of my throat with made me gag. I could see he wanted to be in control, but I grabbed the base of his cock hard, and held it back, which I think should send a message. I tongued the tip, and sucked hard on the end of his dick. It seems like forceful sucking seems good to most guys. John had been blowing me, but I wanted both dicks in my face. I motioned for John to stand up, and he slapped his fat dick against my cheek as I sucked on Tom's penis. John tried to stick his dick inside my mouth at the same time, and as sexy as that was it was hard to get both dicks inside. I guess my mouth is kind of small. Pleasuring these guys was getting me off a lot, cause I like to make guys feel good. Whenever I see groups of guys standing around, I always wish it was me sucking all their dicks.
"Tom, do you want to fuck me?" I asked. "If you do you have to lick my butt first. "
"I've been wanting to stick my dick in you since the first time I saw you," he replied. I made him lay down on his back, cause I have to sit on a dick to get it in me. I figured I would switch positions with him still inside me so I could suck John's dick later, just cause once I get the dick inside me I'm lazy and dont want it to come out and then go back in. I sat on Tom's face while he ate me out. I like it when guy's faces are in my ass. The answer to everything you say is yes when your asshole is in someone's face. I sucked on John's dick as I sat on Tom's face. After he ate me out for a little I sat on his dick, and after maybe 30 seconds got it in. I have stong thighs, so I was boucing up and down on his dick, and I'm happy to say my dick was hard the whole time, boucing up and slapping against my stomach.
"Let's switch to doggy style, cause I want to suck on John more," I said. There's something about a dick in my ass and mouth at the same time that I always loved. Tom and both fell forward on his bed without his dick coming out of my ass. John repositioned himself with the dick in my face, and as I sucked on his member I reached up through his chest hair and grabbed one of his tits. I'd totally forgotten about those. Tom reached around with his left hand and stoked me, while he put his big right forearm over my lower back, which kept my hips in relatively the same place. He kept his pelvis close to mine cause I told him I can't cum when he's thrusting too much. I hate to be the first one to cum, but I couldn't help it case he was really flicking the tip of my dick with each hand stroke. I didn't remember him putting lube on his his hand, so it must have been a combination of my precum mixed with spit mixed with other fluids. All of a sudden I came, John's dick dropped out my mouth and I straightened out my back so they could watch me shoot a load all over the bed instead of just dropping a load all over it while on my hands and knees.
"Wow you come a lot and it's so thick," one of them said. About a minute later Tom pulled his cock out of my ass and came all over my lower back. "Damn you've got a bomb ass hole," he told me. I thought it was funny, so I laughed, if you can't laugh at things that are funny then there really is no point to living. John still hadn't came yet, so me and Tom looked at each other with determination. Tom started working on his shaft, while I sucked on his balls. It took maybe 5 more minutes of constant stimulation to bring this guy off, but it seemed like it was kind of nervous to begin with. When John came, it seemed like Tom swallowed some of his jizz, but I guess since they knew one another that's not as gross. John was the last to come, but he had the biggest load. Perhaps he hadn't played with himself in a while, cause there was semen spilling out everywhere on both sides of Tom's all too eager mouth.
I found Tom's shirt on the ground, and wiped myself off- my crotch, back, between my thighs and even my face. I like wiping cum on other people's towels or clothes. It can seem both disrespectful yet endearing at the same time, I guess just depends on the situation. I thought about staying and cumming again, but it was so early, maybe like 1:45 a.m. so I was feeling restless already. I looked over and saw the 2 guys kissing, John holding Tom close to his body. Their faces were red with the flush that comes with sexual activity.
"Are you tired, don't you want to rest?" Tom asked me. He was running his palm flat up Jon's chest to feel the coarseness. I hoped they'd fall in love and spend the rest of their lives together. Maybe they'd never had sex, and I was the catalyst. I couldn't get involved enough to know.
"Maybe another time," I replied smiling. I let myself out of the front before they could say anything else. "Make sure you lock the front door guys!" I said as I was leaving. This is a nice area, but still. I wondered what else was going on at the after hours clubs? The night was just beginning...
I guess it's the ruggedness that I find attractive, attractive cause it's powerful, powerful because it's inaccessible for me. I like something to make them human- a scar, an imperfection, anything to make it feel real and dispel the unrealistic fantasy of perfect beauty. Yet, at the same time, and at the risk of sounding egocentric, I do happen to be perhaps the most beautiful man of our time. At least that's what people who pay me for sex tell me. It's for this reason that I make a living off selling my body, appealing to people's most basic instincts. Life isn't sacred, and this body's not a temple. Someone like me is often put the position of realizing just how base and disgusting yet predictable people, but especially men, happen to be.
I have a lot of friends who think of their holes as cum dumpsters, but I'm not that stupid. I like to think of these people as jizz receptacles. I've never let anyone come in me, because at the end of the day, regardless of how miserable I really am, and no matter how much I accept the fact that life is totally meaningless, I can never do anything to hurt myself or stop my life. Life wants to exist, and it's a natural progression in life to always want more life. I don't believe in anything, except for that life wants to exist. Self-preservation at any cost. That's why I have to figure some way to make money, cause I really will die if I keep earning less than 20K a year. In this economy? Bitch plz. It's ridiculously easy work. Doing something with my body has always seemed like one of the easiest things, perhaps because developmentally speaking, movement comes first. First we crawl until we walk, then walk until we run. It's not soon after that we start to fuck, and even eunuchs never seem to loose that urge. I always felt like anything physical is just about as easy at it comes...
Obviously, I realize I'm someone who, in the big scheme of things, doesn't really have any boundaries. Or maybe any boundaries left. It's scary to realize that at times, I put myself into very dangerous situations. Sex and death are so closely aligned it's sometimes hard to tell the difference. On a more basic instinct level, I realize one boundary I'm missing is burning thee candle at both ends- I mean to say pushing my body to it's absolute physical limit. However, I do feel one learns a lot about one's self through doing things of this nature, I blame on it on your sped up blood flow, that's got to affect the way a brain operates what with more of everything pumping through it. Having sex with older guys is like walking on thin ice. Since HIV has been around since before I was born, I automatically see crow's feet and think positive. I never had a dad (who did?) and I often wonder if that's the reason why I find older guys so appealing, and being with them such a healing experience.
For a long time I wrestled with my attraction... why would I like something considered by many to be bad? I guess by many people I mean to say people within my peer group. What was it about these kinds of people that I find attractive? It this cause I never had a dad and have always been desperately seeking the approval of a father figure? Moreover, how can someone as complex and multidimensional as me be so predictable, essentially weak minded? Whenever I see 2 guys hugging I always want to be in the middle... but only if they're big and beefy with 2 big hairy bellies pressing against one another. I like body hair, all over. It really turns me on. 2 daddies are better than none, and since me and everyone I've ever met has no daddy, it means there's a huge daddy hole up in the motherfucker, I'll take what I can get.
***
My Saturday mornings usually start out very differently, but always seem to end the same. Obviously, since I get paid to have sex with guys, as a result I get laid a lot in one sense. However, since I rarely have more than 5 or 6 paying customers a month, I still have a huge unfulfilled sexual emptiness inside. All those recent studies say that you're supposed to have at the very least one orgasm a day. I care about my sexual health, like I said I never let guys bust a nut in me, and I never swallow. Not even if I were to have a boyfriend do I think I would swallow. It tastes like shit. I wish that I could be a high priced escort, but in reality I'm a cheap whore, and rarely get paid more than $100 for any encounter. To put it into perspective, the cheapest of street crack whores will rarely go under 40. Ironically, peep shows only pay bitches $4 to show off their pussy holes! People who come to me regularly give me shit about even paying that much... I have to hustle as hard as possible to squeeze every penny I can get out of these tightwad faggots. Just like everyone the dream is to fall in love and live happily ever, but that fantasy doesn't even come true for the elite, much less a mid priced sex worker such as myself. I find myself sometimes thinking if he could be the one regardless of who I'm with. I want it to be real, but I know the world doesn't work like that.
By Saturday night I'm always ready to get on the bus and go to the bars and clubs. To be honest, Saturday nights means the most men, which means the best possible opportunity for sex. True, many people are just tourists, people from the suburbs who aren't real city people I guess is what I mean to say. Obviously, there are lots of people there who are also residents, but I'm not opposed to going places, especially if they have a car and are going to drive me. I always feel safe in cars, even though you're more likely to die in a car crash than any other way. Well, excluding natural causes. I always feel like life is spinning out of control, that this is the real generation with no future, and I'm continually crossing boundaries that were never meant to be crossed. But when I'm in a car, I finally feel like I'm doing something, It makes me feel real, like I have nothing to worry about. What could possibly go wrong? I'm finally doing something, I'm actually going somewhere...
So I'm out enjoying the sights, seeing who's hot and playing the game. I like to gently brush my hands across men I'm attracted to as I walk past- never inappropriate, just lightly over the stomach of across their backs. I won't have sex with just anyone, after all. They have to pay. And when I fuck for pleasure I'm even more selective. Not to say I'm looking for perfection, because I myself am not even perfect, although I like to think I am. I have nice skin, and a well laid out face, good bone structure and a tight body. Everyone cares so much about bodies, but I'm obsessed with faces. I like scars, something to make them human, real, and tangible. But yeah, I think I touched on that before. I hate meth but I like meth scratched faces. I like beards and stubble. I like beefy, but I also like beer guts. I guess I mostly like masculinity. I like guys who look like they could protect me if tricks want to get fresh and rob me... or kill me and dump my body in a ditch somewhere.
So I have threesomes a lot. On the off chance that I happen to be looking at porn, I pretty much only watch orgy or sometimes gangbangs. Just 2 dicks are so boring. I like having threesomes and fourgies, but it's sometimes harder to come... I guess cause there's so much going on, and so much dick. When I'm with just one person, and it's not work, what gets me off is the mutual pleasure. We can make each other feel good. But when guys pay me for sex they always want their boyfriend to join in, or in some cases just watch/videotape. Not like I mind, as far as jobs go mine is pretty cushy, and if I can make a few hundred in just a few hours per month, who is the real idiot? The whore who works maybe 15 hour a month total or the tool in a cubicle wasting 70 hours of life per week? I could never live a 9 to 5 lifestyle. In fact, I don't think it's healthy. All of the studies suggest it.
What I like about San Francisco is all the sex fairs. I have a young face, so I do sometimes get insecure in a sense and feel out of place, mostly because I project a discriminating and critiquing eye onto all those who gaze upon me. I know others think that I think that I'm too good for them, that I'm hot shit, when in reality I'm not that picky, and someone as ghetto as I am, who lives on the fringes of society can't afford to be picky. I'm kinky too, and I'm into fucked up shit. Obviously, people go places like Folsom and Up Your Alley cause they're into S&M, and I'm really just not. I just want to have sex with the people who look like they might be into it. Ruff stuff. When you go to bars and clubs the guys are so clean cut, so corporate, desperately trying to fit into society, they're all tops but would bottom for the right guy (they're all bottoms) and instead of trying to get creative and inventive, choose to try and have sex like straight people. Clearly defined roles, objectives, expectations, and lives. God how boring.
So sometimes I go to the Powerhouse in the attempt to go home with a hot daddy or daddies. In the immortal words of Sandra Hope, founder and CEO of Mate Check, "Guys are all the same." When you fully accept this axiomatic truth, it becomes SO easy to deal with men. All you have to do is tell them that you think they're cute, and that really is all it usually takes. Guys want to fuck all the time, and if they know they can fuck you they will. This makes it laughably easy to manipulate them, and then do whatever you want. So here I am on a Saturday night. The moon is full, the booze is being poured, and everyone is either discreetly or not so discreetly doing his drug of choice. Most like hard drugs, but for me just a drink or two is enough. I only smoke cigarettes if I'm drinking booze. Watch me never get addicted.
I understand why addiction exists, but I've always found that overall, the way that drugs make people feel is the same way I can make myself feel. I like to remember things, even though happy times are few and far between, and I remember the bad times all too well. I came to the club with a friend, who promptly said bye to me after he found someone to go home with. I always do that to other people, there's no animosity in my tone. Just jealousy. I love it when people are on a mission, and find someone to go home with before 11 pm. Skills! Or maybe its just that everyone is equally filthy and desperate on the inside, and the only way to mitigate, to derive some sense of value is through the approval of others. Proving to oneself that one is desirable and desired. When someone says I love you, they really mean to say I love the way you make me feel about myself. When someone says they're addicted to you, what they really mean is I'm addicted to the way you make me feel. You see, all of these feelings are simply internal, they're not for the world, and hardly external. All it takes is the smallest action, the simplest of initiations. A glance, a touch, or maybe just an offer to get someone a drink...
"What's your name? You've got to be the cutest boy in the club tonight. Can I get u something to drink?" His forearms were big and hairy, but he was actually an inch and a half shorter than I am. He had a really friendly face, and I could tell this one at some point lifted weights. Black collared shirt, probably from h&m but with expensive dark denim jeans. Why do men always call me a boy when I'm a man? Guy works just as well. Nicely shaped shoulders, with chest hair sticking out of the middle of the color. What hair he had left was mostly salt and pepper, but he had softness to him that was really appealing.
"My name is Chad, short for Chadric," I replied while smiling with my eyes. I don't understand why some people find a club setting the perfect stage to scowl and pout. People go to clubs to meet people. I want to meet people. I don't like to be alone. I wondered to myself what this guy did this morning, and throughout the day leading to the eventual decision to come to a club. I guess if he asks I won't say I'm a prostitute. "I guess just a shot of jager. I've seen you here before. What's your name, and where are you from?" I was telling the truth cause I had seen him before, around. But I've seen everyone before, someplace at some time. I guessed he was not from California, cause he carried himself in the way that hot people who don't know they're hot tend to carry themselves.
"My name's Tom, short for Thomas. I'm from Georgia originally. I've got to tell you, you have such beautiful skin- it glows, even in the darkest recesses of a seedy gay club." I definitely appreciate anyone with a sense of humor. Life is so shitty all the time, might as well laugh at something if possible. I knew that tonight, or should I say early this morning, I was probably going to get fucked. I like that feeling, anticipation of what's yet to come. Pardon the pun. "So what do you do for a living?"
"I work at a non-profit," I replied, which is usually what I say when people ask. I like to keep secrets, especially when they might be ones that could potentially cause me problems. He invited me over to a group of men from the same demographic. They seem nice I guess. These are the kinds of people who pay me to do nasty things. There were a lot of guys out, and people don't usually arrive to bars and clubs until about midnight or 12:30. The music was hot, and there were guys all around, so in between mingling with my newly found friends and showing of on the dance floor I still managed to get a couple of drinks bought for me. I love it when people do things to please me. People should worship me as the deity that I happen to be.
Eventually it was time to leave the club. I got into Tom's car. 2 of his friends got in, I think their names were John or Jacob- or something biblical sounding like that. It was at that moment I realized that tonight, or should I say early this morning, I was probably going to get fucked by at least 2 guys. Tom drove a BMW, but it was kind of old, so although I was impressed it's still whatever. Besides, it's my dream to drive a Mercedes, Infiniti, or Lexus. It will never happen, but a person has to dream. "Do you want to come home with me tonight?" Tom asked, his voice going up in pitch at the end of the question. Pleading with me. I wonder what he wanted to do to me sexually. A lot of times they want you to stick your dick in their ass.
"Only if I can drive!" It's that boyish sense of adventure and mystery of the world that they wanted, because theirs had long since burned out. I had enough to spare. Stay young forever, never grow old, and never die. He told me he lived in upper market, so I knew I'd only be behind the wheel for like 10 mins. I love to drive, it's really reassuring for me, cause I'm finally doing something. There's nobody in my life to hold me accountable, so that's why I slipped through the cracks and wasn't able to do anything with my life. On the way back all they talked about was trying to loose weight and failing or about money. Old people can be so boring, why do they have to be so real? One of Tom's friends was talking about not being able to get a man... it was at that moment that I realized how crazy they really were, and it was all generational. They'd been made to feel dirty and disgusting their entire lives. I wonder if that affects people negatively? If they're not happy then it's cause they think they're not worth it.
After we dropped one of his friends off, we got to Tom's house. I was a little drunk, but I'll never get a D.U.I. because I can always hold my shit together, as some people can. John and Tom followed me upstairs through the apartment complex, it was as if I was following an internally led path. I always try to follow my intuition. He lives in a nice area but probably has to work the bullshit office job from hell. I was nonetheless excited for all the boundaries I was going to cross with these guys tonight. Another person, another boundary to cross. I'm short and somewhat on the thin side, and I'm vers, but never just the bottom bitch people usually see me as being. I couldn't wait to turn it around on them and stick my dick in both their asses. After we got inside, I couldn't help but start touching these guys. They were sweet, and I know they would only make me feel good tonight.
Tom pushed me down on his bed and got on top of me, I could feel the whole weight of his body everywhere. He kissed me deep, he had stubble everywhere and it was really turning me on. He was a good kisser, I suppose, but was trying to pull all of this porn star bullshit and sticking his tongue out way too much. Maybe he was trying to turn his friend on. Maybe they'd been lovers in the past, but it didn't seem that way, just cause they weren't sharing the inside jokes and references that people who are really close with one another tend to share all the time. John had already taken his clothes totally off and left just white briefs and socks on. I love to feel a man's weight on my body. He stuck his hand between my thighs and pushed down hard on my hard penis. I hope we can suck each others dicks. I wanted to such John's dick too. I struggled to get Tom off me and took my shirt off. John put his face up to mine and our mouths met, gently pulling back my hair as he looked down and sucked on my upper lip. He had nice skin, and was white but a little darker than Tom. Black hair everywhere all over his body, and looked somewhat fit, but mostly beefy if I had to describe them.
I love kissing, I really could kiss all night. Both of them kissed me and then I backed up and told them I want them to kiss each other really passionately and I'll watch. When I'm not working, I like to be lazy, I don't have to be in the middle of the action at all times. A ho has to be able to catch her breath. Shit. I watched Tom mount John, the same way he did with me, then bend down with and rub John's dick all over his tits and chest hair. He even was rubbing his dick on his stubble, which would hurt me but some guys seem to like it. He stuck his tongue out and flicked the end of it horizontally and vertically on John's frenulum. I saw him stick the tip of his tongue in John's piss slit, which is a trick I myself like to pull on guys. He put his thumb and index on the tip and the most sensitive part of his dick vigorously which made John's back arch in ecstasy. John was cut but he seemed to really enjoy the sensation. Maybe he had a lot of slack left. Seeing Tom being an oral top made me want to finger his hole and stick my dick in after. I always keep my finger nails super short to make sure not to hurt anyone. Seeing these guys getting it on was turning me on so much. I feel like I'm always performing, that all my sex is on stage, and I'm always trying to gauge what to do and how to act in order to turn the other person on and do whatever it is they want. It's fun, but after a while one just wants the client to hurry up and bust a nut. I watched him play with John's balls until I could no longer resist the urge to stick my face in John's guiche. I wanted to know what he smells like. I started to suck on one of his nuts, they were both really big but managed to get one in mouth and still be able to suck in air around the testicle, I knew that would feel good on his raphe. I usually put my mouth in the middle of balls and get all the skin I can into my mouth, while I trace the outline of the asshole with my finger. John was swampy, but I could tell it was just from being sweaty this evening. I wasn't going to lick his ass cause I only like to lick ass on younger guys. Their holes are still tight and really sensitive, so you can lick it all night and they still won't want to be fucked, even though they're going crazy.
"Let's get your friend naked," I said to John. John pulled off Tom's shirt while I undid his jeans, and pulled his pants and underwear off both at once. He had hard hairy balls held close to his body. They were connected to a very white, fat dick, and I could tell his asshole was probably pink too, cause his skin was pretty light all over. His dick was hard, and he was uncut, but the only one of us who was. I like uncut penis cause it's easier to make it cum, nothing sucks more than being really turned on and not able to bust a nut, because you're nervous or whatever. His penis was a pretty light shade of tan, and the hair on his thighs was blond, but pubic hair was brown. I love blond body hair, and could not but help myself to run my hands up and down this man's thick calves. Fuck, calves turn me on so much, I think that's probably my favorite part of a man's body. I guess he has the blond body hair cause of the light eyes.
"Stick your dick in his ass. I want to see you fuck him," I said with a smirk. John got on all fours, and I slapped his ass hard with my left hand. I fingered his ass for a min, then Tom buried his big face in his friend's hole. Since John obviously wasn't one for manscaping, and Tom's face was really scratchy I hoped no tissues back there got damaged in the vigorous ass eating I was watching. I got John to lay on his back and sat on his face, his tongue was really talented. I've been fucked a lot but my hole is still pretty sensitive, and my dick was rock hard the whole time. John licked my ass, as Tom licked his ass while jerking off. Tom rolled on a condom, and stood up. He rubbed the end of his dick around John's asshole, getting him ready to be penetrated. He poured a bunch of lube around the outside of his friend's ass, then put some all over his cock. He slapped the end of his dick against the hole, then slid it in with ease, deep all the way in, then pulled it more than half way out. I guess he was loosening his friend up. I got on top of John and started to suck his dick. It kind of smelled cause another person had been sucking it that night. His dick was so hard, and from the curve and the angle I was able to deep throat and hold it in for such a long a time that I impressed even myself. It must feel good to fuck and get fucked at the same time.
Tom told me that he was vers, so I asked if I could fuck him and he said yes. I rolled on a rubber, and stood behind him, and spit all over his hole and my hand, and worked his hole so he'd be turned on while I was fucking him. Safe sex is so important. Tom's dick was securely in John's shitbox, but I'm sure his hole was a little worked out. Tom had a nice backside, the hole was a little loose but still felt good to put my dick all the way inside. When I top guys I like to go really slow and gentle, usually go balls deep and just take it out a little. It feels best to a bottom if you try to go all the way in and just make sure the tip is hitting all the right spots up inside. Topping well can make a soft dick on a bottom get a lot harder. It feels good on my penis, but I want to make sure Tom likes me fucking him. I love making a guy come when my dick is inside him cause the hole spasms when they shoot loads, and it feels so good, almost like you're fucking an ass and getting head at the same time. At this point there were hella assholes getting fucked. Sometimes guys can't get that hard while being penetrated, but these ones didn't seem to have any problems. I guess it's because they've they'd had an awful lot of practice at this point, and they know how to "feel" really quickly, as well as knowing what to expect. I always try to be someone's best fuck, I want to be a sexual force of nature that has huge impacts on others lives.
I fucked Tom while standing up, and he fucked John missionary. My dick kept falling out of Tom's ass, but he always moaned when I put it back in. I wonder what he thinks about when he's jerking off? It's kind of hard to fuck someone who's fucking, especially if he thrusts a lot. I guess Tom thinks the motion of his hips is what turns a bottom on, but I know if I'm bottoming I just want to feel a talented dick that hits me in all the right places, and the thrusting has very little to do with it. Tom was Jerking John off, and even though his dick was hard I had a feeling that he wasn't going to cum soon. I didn't know about Tom, just because it seemed like he was turning himself on a lot just by the way he fucks.
I pulled my dick out of Tom's ass because I didn't want to cum. I like sex to last a long time, and only 20 minutes had gone by. 20 mins is a long time to take a dick as well, in my opinion. I never understand when guys apologize for sex taking too long. Nobody wants to fuck for a minute or two. "I want to suck you guys off," I offered. I sat down on my butt, and Tom stuck his dick in me, then thrusted in and pushed it down the back of my throat with made me gag. I could see he wanted to be in control, but I grabbed the base of his cock hard, and held it back, which I think should send a message. I tongued the tip, and sucked hard on the end of his dick. It seems like forceful sucking seems good to most guys. John had been blowing me, but I wanted both dicks in my face. I motioned for John to stand up, and he slapped his fat dick against my cheek as I sucked on Tom's penis. John tried to stick his dick inside my mouth at the same time, and as sexy as that was it was hard to get both dicks inside. I guess my mouth is kind of small. Pleasuring these guys was getting me off a lot, cause I like to make guys feel good. Whenever I see groups of guys standing around, I always wish it was me sucking all their dicks.
"Tom, do you want to fuck me?" I asked. "If you do you have to lick my butt first. "
"I've been wanting to stick my dick in you since the first time I saw you," he replied. I made him lay down on his back, cause I have to sit on a dick to get it in me. I figured I would switch positions with him still inside me so I could suck John's dick later, just cause once I get the dick inside me I'm lazy and dont want it to come out and then go back in. I sat on Tom's face while he ate me out. I like it when guy's faces are in my ass. The answer to everything you say is yes when your asshole is in someone's face. I sucked on John's dick as I sat on Tom's face. After he ate me out for a little I sat on his dick, and after maybe 30 seconds got it in. I have stong thighs, so I was boucing up and down on his dick, and I'm happy to say my dick was hard the whole time, boucing up and slapping against my stomach.
"Let's switch to doggy style, cause I want to suck on John more," I said. There's something about a dick in my ass and mouth at the same time that I always loved. Tom and both fell forward on his bed without his dick coming out of my ass. John repositioned himself with the dick in my face, and as I sucked on his member I reached up through his chest hair and grabbed one of his tits. I'd totally forgotten about those. Tom reached around with his left hand and stoked me, while he put his big right forearm over my lower back, which kept my hips in relatively the same place. He kept his pelvis close to mine cause I told him I can't cum when he's thrusting too much. I hate to be the first one to cum, but I couldn't help it case he was really flicking the tip of my dick with each hand stroke. I didn't remember him putting lube on his his hand, so it must have been a combination of my precum mixed with spit mixed with other fluids. All of a sudden I came, John's dick dropped out my mouth and I straightened out my back so they could watch me shoot a load all over the bed instead of just dropping a load all over it while on my hands and knees.
"Wow you come a lot and it's so thick," one of them said. About a minute later Tom pulled his cock out of my ass and came all over my lower back. "Damn you've got a bomb ass hole," he told me. I thought it was funny, so I laughed, if you can't laugh at things that are funny then there really is no point to living. John still hadn't came yet, so me and Tom looked at each other with determination. Tom started working on his shaft, while I sucked on his balls. It took maybe 5 more minutes of constant stimulation to bring this guy off, but it seemed like it was kind of nervous to begin with. When John came, it seemed like Tom swallowed some of his jizz, but I guess since they knew one another that's not as gross. John was the last to come, but he had the biggest load. Perhaps he hadn't played with himself in a while, cause there was semen spilling out everywhere on both sides of Tom's all too eager mouth.
I found Tom's shirt on the ground, and wiped myself off- my crotch, back, between my thighs and even my face. I like wiping cum on other people's towels or clothes. It can seem both disrespectful yet endearing at the same time, I guess just depends on the situation. I thought about staying and cumming again, but it was so early, maybe like 1:45 a.m. so I was feeling restless already. I looked over and saw the 2 guys kissing, John holding Tom close to his body. Their faces were red with the flush that comes with sexual activity.
"Are you tired, don't you want to rest?" Tom asked me. He was running his palm flat up Jon's chest to feel the coarseness. I hoped they'd fall in love and spend the rest of their lives together. Maybe they'd never had sex, and I was the catalyst. I couldn't get involved enough to know.
"Maybe another time," I replied smiling. I let myself out of the front before they could say anything else. "Make sure you lock the front door guys!" I said as I was leaving. This is a nice area, but still. I wondered what else was going on at the after hours clubs? The night was just beginning...
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Ryan
I first started having sex when I was 16 years old, I guess it seems like the normal time for gay guys to have their first experience, whether it be with a friend, and older man, or whatever. Growing up, I was always alone, so I always yearned for closeness. I've always been hoping for love, but until that happens I just seem to fall into things. I've always been weak, in some ways I've seen myself as a victim throughout every life situation that I happen to go thru, and for some reason I think I just made that realization.
Anyways, when I was a kid growing up, I went to Sandcastle play center in __________, CA. I don't think it's around anymore, considering I'm a child of the 80s, and the woman who ran it was in her 50s at the time. She made me eat the crusts off my sandwiches, and I hated that bitch. I remember she made one foster kid who went there sit in the bathroom because she refused to smile. Her name was Phyllis Bartlet.
I guess the fist boundaries I ever started to cross would have been in my childhood. At first, other boys at the day care would encourage me to show them my penis, which I did so willingly, and the action was frequently reciprocated. There were long gaps when we would be unsupervised after nap time, and the back yard gave us the makeshift privacy that we weren't really consciously looking for, considering we were all under 5 years old. The first time I saw an uncircumcised penis and understood that it looked different from mine was at the age of 3 or 4, it belonged to a little blond boy named Torren. As a child, I knew I was drawn to other boys, I wanted to spend time with them and make them feel good, obviously, I wasn't thinking about pounding or sucking until I hit puberty. Anyways, the other little boys would eventually start touching me, and I would touch them too, any boundaries I had quickly would disappear. As I got older, teen aged years led to me sneaking out of the house and meet my other teen boyfriend in the park, where we would kiss each other and jerk off, the "sex" would be over with after a few minutes, but it still felt satisfying I guess. Eventually I went away to college, and as soon as I did I got to go to 18 and over clubs, which is where I'm at now.
***
It was about 6 p.m. on Friday night and I was getting ready for Club Fuck. Normally, I just kind of blend in and I don't make an effort, but to be honest I'm really hot, and when I dress up I get a lot of attention. My body was still young and tight from running track, a high school past time that I was somehow responsible enough to keep up with even though my whole life got thrown out of balance from starting my life over (not that I wasn't grateful for getting to "start over" because I had been waiting my whole life to reinvent myself). I can still do 5 miles in 40 minutes, and I'm proud of my accomplishment. My upper body's not that great, but I'm toned, and when I wear a tight shirt it doesn't look cheesy, it just looks cute. I have pictures to prove it. Club Fuck is this cool, yet in the end incestuous club, and it's the hot place for guys to hook up at, of course it's in the gay ghetto, but in the end I feel grateful for places like this, as well as to the older generation who made it all possible. I hope they don't think us kids aren't grateful, because we really are. It was a lot harder for them to grow up, so I feel somewhat protective over the spaces they've created.
Anyways, I go to this club every Friday. In a lot of ways, it's been the highlight of my evening for the past 6 months, so much so that sometimes I won't do another night event that week, because that one night was satisfying enough. Who knows what I'll be all about next year, but right now I've got it all figured out. Sometimes it gets awkward, like if someone else is wearing the same article of clothing as me (although I usually look better, yeah and I mean it too) or I see more than 2 people in one night that I've had sex with. It just makes me feel like I have to put on a show, at the same time the need to show off comes with the feeling that it was just another boundary I wasn't supposed to cross. 'Is that going to be your look tonight?" my friend JR asked me. He was referring to my skinny black jeans, black Lacoste shoes, black tank top, and light brown fitted leather jacked I had on. I was applying blush- but that's the only makeup I wear, and it's only once in a while. It makes one look healthy and youthful, but really only looks good if you have good skin in the first place. Sometimes. I put Vaseline on the top of my cheekbones- it makes you look really refreshed. Beauty tips from me, your host, Ryan.
"Yeah, it's going to work," I replied with a smile. Simple usually looks best. We got in the car, and made our way to the club while smoking a joint on the way there, we got a parking spot not too far away, so we were already having good luck. I should say that I hooked up with JR once, but it was totally on accident, and totally oral, and it was when we were both really wasted and not really in our right minds. It didn't make our friendship weird, thank god, because we were both worried it would right away. Now, we just have each other's back and point each other in the right direction. Sometimes, one will pretend to be the other's boyfriend in case an undesirable or a party desperate tries to hit on one of us. And, ok, one time we did make out really hard in order to make this one guy jealous, but we're not going to go into that right now, because it's so trivial we basically forgot all about it.
We got in the club, got drinks, and all of a sudden I saw this one acquaintance I hooked up with a while ago, a one night stand. We waved to each other, ok, cool, it won't be weird. I always think how it's weird, and even sort of unnatural considering the boundaries we'd crossed with each other, yet we really didn't know anything about one another at all aside from basic information and names, and we obviously never felt a deep emotion together such as love. One thing that keeps me coming back to club trash each week it the music, and the DJ was really laying it down tonight. Loving it. As I was moving around on the floor, a cute guy started grinding on me. I was feeling it. and he put his hands around my waist, and stuck his fingers inside the elastic of my briefs, and felt the top of my pubes. I smiled, but I wasn't going home this with this one tonight, he had good features, but bad skin. I hate when that happens! I hope that, by the way, everybody knows that you can seriously catch that shit from people who I have it, so my advice to you is that you not rub your face on someone whose face is tore back. It's just called being health conscious, I mean your skin is your largest organ. But still, if a guy wants to touch me, I'll let it happen.
I'm looking for the love of my life, even though I know fairy tales really don't exist, and no matter how hard you try, nobody can be with you forever. But, you never know, I might find him here tonight, in the nightclub. I always keep my options open, because you never know when an opportunity will come, and that opportunity is your only chance. I saw a cute guy in the corner, he had a good smile and I was attracted to him. Ok, I never buy drinks for guys, but this one had a smile- cute and simple, it almost gave his face a delusional look. He looked like he was from middle America- dressed really normally. I like country boys, cause when they're hot they don't know it. "Hi, what's your name?"
"Jack," he replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you. What's yours?" he asked me.
"Ryan, but all my friends call me HB. Why am I telling you that?" I smiled and looked up and to the right, when you look down people think you have low self esteem. "I want to get you a drink, what do you like?" After we warmed up over mixed drinks, I thought to myself that if I were to go home with someone, it would be this guy. He just seemed so good natured, and he seemed sweet and gentle, also he was really physically affectionate- I mean it could have been the booze I got him, but he had a really natural way of touching me, and I let him put his hands under my shirt and feel my chest, abs, and let him tug on my nips. I always think to myself about how I would love you forever when I'm with a guy. Just don't leave me, and I'll love you forever. An hour later I was sure that I could never love a guy who claimed to be a gay christian. Next.
I'm always really attracted to black men. In the past, I have wondered if it was because I grew up around them a lot- I try to tell black men that I'm black too, that I'm a guy they could roll with, but they never really get it. It always backfires on me, and then people think I'm racist, when I'm really just culturally black. But yeah, I want to find a hot brother who is ghetto, sells drugs, shoots guns, but is always really sweet to me and calls me baby boi. So many boys, so little time. But I'll love you forever, you don't even have to say a single thing. I'll always be true. All of a sudden I saw the one. Not that one, the one. The one that matters. I'd been introduced to him before through a mutual friend, why couldn't I remember his name! That would have been convenient. "Hi, I met you a few weeks ago through Tyler. I'm Ryan, what was your name again?"
"Hey I was wondering if I was going to see you again. My name is Sam, better not forget it, because I'm going to be famous some day," he said with a smirk. I'm one of those people who if you are talking to me, and let me know that you're the shit, then that's seriously all I need. I'll never understand why people can't figure out how to be smooth, cause it's all about attitude. And sass. And it all comes from within. Within a few minutes we were on the floor, and his arms were around me like an octopus. We were grinding face 2 face, and kissing really hard, sometimes I think it's weird how I can know somebody for just a few minutes, and if I'm attracted to them, then I'll cross all sorts of boundaries with them and not give a fuck. This one had a really good face, and I'm really into faces. Sam hadn't shaved for a day or 2, and I love stubble. His skin was pretty dark, and really clear and smooth. His contrast would look good against my skin in pictures, but as I discovered with my previous relationship, when you start to make porn with the one you're dating, that means your relationship only has 2-3 months left in it, so I'm not going down that road again.
Sometimes, I just want to rub my face against another man's- it feels like sandpaper in a good way. It makes me hard. But yeah, Sam was a freak, and he could do all these ghetto moves, and if a guy can hold it down on the floor, then that of course means he'll be able to deliver in the bed. I found JR and told him he has to be designated driver, because I'm bringing this guy home tonight. On the ride home we made out the whole way in the back seat, while mounting each other, and feeling each other up (but only thru jeans). At this point my dick was so wet with precum that I noticed a small wet spot on my jeans even though they were black. I don't know what it is about black guys- maybe this long left over taboo about crossing a boundary that my white parents would not be proud of. Black dick is just so..... superior.
***
We got into my room, and Sam pulled his shirt over his head. I pushed him on my bed, and climbed on top of him, I was still wearing jeans and socks at this point, and he was still wearing pants. I kissed his neck, which soon turned into kissing his shoulders, and his inner biceps. Then I revisited his mouth, and didn't hold anything back. Guys often tell me kissing me is like having somebody eat their face, but it seems like when in doubt, be aggressive. His skin tone was dark and even, I wonder how he got such good skin. Hi wasn't as dark as Alek Wek, for example, but he was close- I wondered to myself if he was actually from Africa (or maybe his parents) because he had very striking features- maybe Chinese Jamaican? I couldn't find a single imperfection on his face. Maybe he drinks a lot of water. I wanted to suck his dick really bad. After kissing his stomach for about 2 seconds, I pulled off his cargo shorts and briefs, while I liked his urethral opening and tried to stick my tongue in it. Guys usually like it when I lick the dick slit. His dick was big and more importantly fat, which means I probably couldn't really deep throat it for more than a few seconds, and it also seemed too big to get fucked by it. I started sucking on his head, and he started to moan. He didn't let me suck on it for long, "Get your dick up here, I want to 69," he told me, and I was more than happy to oblige, cause 69ing is my favorite. We were blowing each other, and I stuck my thumb in his ass, and pushed up hard on his prostate, he was turning me on and I wanted to fuck this guy, cause he kept bringing me too close by sucking my dick.
We kept sucking on each other. I find a strange comfort in 69ing, I guess cause essentially everyone is being pleased. In many ways, its hard for me to cum, just cause when I'm doing shit to a guy's penis I end up focusing all my attention on that. I love dick and everything about it. I love how it smells, I love to bury my face in guy's nuts and really get a sense of him. This niggas shit smelled amazing, I made a quick mental note to make him let me keep his underwear, so I can smell him again later. We were laying on our sides, which eventually let me to being on top and sitting on his face. I was glad I took a shower this morning, and finished my digestion earlier in the day. You planned this whole thing, didn't you?
"Yeah babe, lick my hole. Lick that shit nigga." My nightstand was in reaching distance, so I pulled out my flesh light. They're so much more fun to play with when there's 2 guys instead of one. It feels good to fuck things, it's almost like having a threesome. I spat in it but it was already a little swampy from me using it last night, even though I cleaned it out. I put it over his penis and he got really vocal, taking his lips off my asshole. "You wanna fuck, nigga?" I asked. Of course he does, everyone wants to fuck. His dick was really big, and I kept it going with constant stimulation. The night thing about fucking a flesh light is that the fucking plastic shit can't give anyone aids, and doesn't play host to any viruses. Unlike human orifices, they aren't vectors. Ironically, all orifices are moist warm transitional zones. I thought about putting my penis inside Sam's tight chocolate hole. I wanted him to fuck me to. It's so fun being gay because there's not just one way to have sex, and you have to get creative right off the bat. There's a million things you can do to somebody to make them feel good. Or make them cry out in pain.
But right now, I was all about pleasing this hot black dick. I'm not a bottom but I always fantasize about getting gang banged by 7-8 black guys. Not as the only hole, but essentially the focal point of the orgy. I love black men, and I always get off on pleasing them. They're physically superior to white people, I guess I always noticed differences from living in 2 different worlds my whole life. Anybody who I get with, it's going to be interratial right off the bat. I kept using the flesh light on Sam's dick, taking it all the way down to his balls to get maximum stimulation. His cock would sometimes pop out the end, cause it was big and fat. I liked watching the head pop out the end, and would occasionally lick it. He fingered my hole white I sucked his dick in and out of my toy. He was also jerking me off, which is the easiest and fastest way to make me cum. Luckily, his motions were hitting more of the top of my dick instead of the frenulum on the underside. I wasn't going to cum super fast. "I love watching your cock fuck," I told him, cause I did. "It's really beautiful."
I pulled his dick out and threw the toy on the ground. We lined up side to side cause it's easier to cum that way. A 15 minute tumble in the sheets is usually gay sex (in my experience) unless ass fucking is involved, in which case the preparation and clean up add on that extra time. I'll probably just wait until I'm in a relationship, purely for the fact that I hate using condoms, but I'm still paranoid about sex killing me. I kept sucking his dick and fingering his a hole until he exclaimed, "Shit, I'm going to cum! I don't want to cum yet!" I ignored his pleas and deep throated his penis, he came a second later and I gagged on all the jizz, I tried to swallow it but a lot came spilling out of my face and onto his thighs. He jerked my dick off and stuck his tongue in my ass, and I ejaculated really quickly (I'm glad I took a shower before I went out, cause I was kid of swampy earlier in the day). A fat pool of jizz covered my stomach, and Sam put his fingers in it, rubbing it around my stomach, but I noticed he didn't taste it. After that, I needed a few minutes because I couldn't see, but he flipped around and kissed me for a little but, I love coming down after sex, even though it usually means I'll just be getting horny again and want to mess around even more.
We kept sucking on each other. I find a strange comfort in 69ing, I guess cause essentially everyone is being pleased. In many ways, its hard for me to cum, just cause when I'm doing shit to a guy's penis I end up focusing all my attention on that. I love dick and everything about it. I love how it smells, I love to bury my face in guy's nuts and really get a sense of him. This niggas shit smelled amazing, I made a quick mental note to make him let me keep his underwear, so I can smell him again later. We were laying on our sides, which eventually let me to being on top and sitting on his face. I was glad I took a shower this morning, and finished my digestion earlier in the day. You planned this whole thing, didn't you?
"Yeah babe, lick my hole. Lick that shit nigga." My nightstand was in reaching distance, so I pulled out my flesh light. They're so much more fun to play with when there's 2 guys instead of one. It feels good to fuck things, it's almost like having a threesome. I spat in it but it was already a little swampy from me using it last night, even though I cleaned it out. I put it over his penis and he got really vocal, taking his lips off my asshole. "You wanna fuck, nigga?" I asked. Of course he does, everyone wants to fuck. His dick was really big, and I kept it going with constant stimulation. The night thing about fucking a flesh light is that the fucking plastic shit can't give anyone aids, and doesn't play host to any viruses. Unlike human orifices, they aren't vectors. Ironically, all orifices are moist warm transitional zones. I thought about putting my penis inside Sam's tight chocolate hole. I wanted him to fuck me to. It's so fun being gay because there's not just one way to have sex, and you have to get creative right off the bat. There's a million things you can do to somebody to make them feel good. Or make them cry out in pain.
But right now, I was all about pleasing this hot black dick. I'm not a bottom but I always fantasize about getting gang banged by 7-8 black guys. Not as the only hole, but essentially the focal point of the orgy. I love black men, and I always get off on pleasing them. They're physically superior to white people, I guess I always noticed differences from living in 2 different worlds my whole life. Anybody who I get with, it's going to be interratial right off the bat. I kept using the flesh light on Sam's dick, taking it all the way down to his balls to get maximum stimulation. His cock would sometimes pop out the end, cause it was big and fat. I liked watching the head pop out the end, and would occasionally lick it. He fingered my hole white I sucked his dick in and out of my toy. He was also jerking me off, which is the easiest and fastest way to make me cum. Luckily, his motions were hitting more of the top of my dick instead of the frenulum on the underside. I wasn't going to cum super fast. "I love watching your cock fuck," I told him, cause I did. "It's really beautiful."
I pulled his dick out and threw the toy on the ground. We lined up side to side cause it's easier to cum that way. A 15 minute tumble in the sheets is usually gay sex (in my experience) unless ass fucking is involved, in which case the preparation and clean up add on that extra time. I'll probably just wait until I'm in a relationship, purely for the fact that I hate using condoms, but I'm still paranoid about sex killing me. I kept sucking his dick and fingering his a hole until he exclaimed, "Shit, I'm going to cum! I don't want to cum yet!" I ignored his pleas and deep throated his penis, he came a second later and I gagged on all the jizz, I tried to swallow it but a lot came spilling out of my face and onto his thighs. He jerked my dick off and stuck his tongue in my ass, and I ejaculated really quickly (I'm glad I took a shower before I went out, cause I was kid of swampy earlier in the day). A fat pool of jizz covered my stomach, and Sam put his fingers in it, rubbing it around my stomach, but I noticed he didn't taste it. After that, I needed a few minutes because I couldn't see, but he flipped around and kissed me for a little but, I love coming down after sex, even though it usually means I'll just be getting horny again and want to mess around even more.
"Thanks, I really needed that. You're so fucking hot, Sam," I said. Why was I thanking somebody for getting me off? I was totally feeling this brother, and I already thought a lot about him, even though I didn't really know anything about him... oops. I mean, I knew all the important details, like his name and basic information. But at that moment, all I was thinking about was more. More of this man in my life. "I really want to see you again, you're a perfect 10," I offered, hoping that he had some sort of interest in me (aside from the physical). I have a lot to offer someone, I wondered if he'd be the one.
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Sam replied. My heart instantly broke. Why does this keep happening? All I want is to not be alone. Guys always see me as someone to have fun with, but not somebody to get with. I wish someone would hit it and stick with it.
"Why, what do you mean," I asked. Maybe he was just kidding. It's me, how can somebody not like me?
"You're really hot too, and there's a lot of amazing things about you, but I don't really see us dating or even really hooking up again. I mean, you seem like a great guy, don't get me wrong, but you've just got this reputation. What am I, guy 5,000? I find it hard to take you seriously." It wasn't like that! I wanted to love him. That's all I want, is that why it will never happen?
I've recently realized I'm someone who doesn't have any physical boundaries.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Mark 2,475
It seems like just about everybody has got one question on their minds. Who's your daddy? I didn't get lucky when it comes to dads, and only recently have I given up the search, after a several year long run of searching for one. Will you be my daddy?
When I moved away from my parents house and went to college, I thought socializing would come easier. I'd been popular in high school, I've always been really grown up for my age. It's ironic that I still look 16 even though I'm almost 21 now, but that's not my fault. I can't help it if when I smile my eyes don't wrinkle. I'm not disingenuous, it's merely the biological architecture of my face that makes me look so stoic. That and I'm hard. But that's another story.
The truth is life is like high school all over again, but in different places. Sometimes I get scared and think that this is how life is going to be forever. I got involved with a man, for purposes of the story I'll just call him the lawyer.
***
It was late afternoon/early evening on a Thursday. That morning I had been stuck in a rather stressful physics lab- in short the measurements my group was getting were not what they should have been, and when the lab instructor tells you to just lie about the numbers I always feel defeated. It makes me feel like I won't be a good scientist. Anyways, I was at Starfucks picking up my drink, forgetting the frustrations of the a.m. hours and anticipating the many more frustrations that seem to come my way daily. I quickly sat down to text my room mate and call a friend back, when a clean cut attractive blond man sat down next to me at the small 2 person table. All of a sudden he locked eyes with mine. "Hi, I couldn't help but notice you from across the room, you got the same drink as me. My name's John. What's yours?"
"Kyle," I responded. My name is Mark, but I never tell anyone I just meet my real name. When I'm feeling receptive yet cautious, my mouth usually spits out Kyle. When I'm feeling sexy and powerful it's Buck, but that's another story (rhymes with fuck).
"Kyle, I think you're really beautiful. You're just so statuesque..."
"Actually, my name is Mark." I don't know why I lied to a clean looking guy like that, I mean he probably has money. "I just tell people my name is Kyle if I think they're sketchy." Did I mention that I don't trust anyone? Everyone I ever loved ended up dead, or betraying me on a fundamental level. I don't even trust myself to do the right thing. The lawyer laughed.
"What's so questionable about me? Do you think I'm going to take you home fuck you then kill you? Or kill you then fuck you. Mark is a cute name anyways, you should be proud of it." All of a sudden I started feeling this guy, anyone with a sense of humor is someone I want to know. Nobody can ever make me laugh! Laughing is all I want. Laughter and passionate sex. "Why don't I just call you golden boy, cause you're the one who has what everyone else wants."
I love how people think they can get you on their side through compliments, because it usually works, which meant that I had to pull a fast one. Gotta keep em guessing, I always say. "You're old enough to be my dad," I said. I wonder how this cocky old asshole is going to act now. I was surprised that only a few seconds had gone by in this conversation, yet it had already (indirectly) went straight to sex. I often wonder if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach or his dick.
"I am old enough to be your dad. But you're old enough to make your own decisions, and enter into legally binding contracts, so I think it's ok if I talk to you." I searched the man's face. Everyone just wants something from you, but what did think guy want from me? A challenge? Something young, beautiful, and pure that could be content to stand in someone's shadow and be a kept man? Cause I could so easily be that guy.
"So daddy, what do you do for a living?" I asked.
"I'm a high powered attorney," He replied. "Basically I lie, cheat, and steal for sketchy people who have so much money it does nothing but cause them problems." So, basically he was telling me he's a tool. I love it when people's lives mean nothing yet on the surface they appear to be successful. "What career path are you looking to go down, buddy?" Was he being dismissive? I know I'm white trash, but it's never ok when other people remind me. It makes me competitive.
"I'm studying to be a scientist so I can cure AIDS," I replied. "I mean, that's on my list, but I really have so many more schemes up my sleeve." His face looked older, but strangely attractive. I'm sure when he was young this guy was a stud. He looks healthy, maybe in his early 30s, but it's hard to tell. I wanted to see what his dick looked like.
"Wow, that sounds really ambitious," the guy said with a smile. I couldn't help but automatically wonder if this man before me happened to be HIV positive. I mean, I had just been socialized to expect that the generation before me is basically 100% pos. At the same time, I didn't mean to be abrasive to someone who could potentially benefit me. Stop acting like a bitch for no reason Mark, you're not in the club hooking up with another sweaty white trash nothing, this guy might be loaded. Act cute and smile, don't be negative. Tell them what they want to hear.
"It just makes me sad that we've already lost so many special gay people. I want to make sure it ends with me. More difficult things have been done than find a cure." The sad fact is what I was saying really was true. I love to get preachy, it makes me feel assertive.
"That really touches my heart. I've lost a lot of people close to me already. When I was goring up it was a very different time- there were not gay people on TV, or in political power. Back then, your friends were your family, so it made it so much harder to loose people. I've already been to too many funerals. Sex isn't supposed to kill." This personal anecdote was making this guy grow on me, even though I didn't really know why.
"Well, in case you are, you can always pay me to cure it, I already figured out a way to regrow an immune system." People always think I'm being facetious, when I'm trying to be real.
"I guess I just happened to get lucky. That's what other people tell me, that I'm lucky for being negative, but since I've seen so many people die I'm left to wonder if I actually am lucky. I've had a lot of sex, just not with a lot of people." Just because he was telling me that didn't make it true. Another post modern dilemma. I knew where this was going.
"Hey it's such a nice day, and we're so close to the beach. Do you want to go for a walk?" I offered. I had a feeling this one had beach front property."
"Yeah, let's go for a ride in my car. I live really close to the beach anyways. It's a Friday night, after all." What was that supposed to mean? Did he want to go to tiger heat with me, cause I wouldn't be caught dead in a public place with this guy, what would other people think? Basically, that he's my sugar daddy and I'm a gold digger, and I'm not. I can make my own way through this world, thank you very much. Mo money, mo problems, isn't that what Tupac said?
***
It was about 8 p.m. and the rusty crimson sky behind the flawless Malibu shoreline had just began to turn red from yellow. How did I get here, and why am I hanging out in a beach front mansion? I'm just another nothing from the inland empire. It's not like I let people know that, but it's the sad, broken truth. What about when this guy tries to get fresh with me? Am I supposed to oppose someone who is "powerful" and my second most pressing question- what is wrong with this guy? On the surface he seems perfect, which means that there's something fundamentally flawed underneath the exterior. Does he have a dungeon in the basement full of all sorts of terrible things he plans on doing to me?
"You told me you like jagermeister," he said, handing me a drink. I was surprised he remembered such a minor detail from our "romantic walk on the beach" which consisted of him asking me about myself and me talking about myself. I think he could tell that I'm guarded, which I am, but I will reveal anything about myself if somebody just asks. I'm so not mysterious, I wish I could answer questions with questions and be untouchable and exotic.
"I'm surprised that you remembered," I replied.
"Actually, I remember everything you told me. You were born a few days after me surprisingly, only in 1986, which makes me 19 years older than you- in short old enough to be your father. Your real father fucked you as a child, then disappeared for good when you were in your early teens. Your mom was a tool, but you can't help loving her, same as most gay boys. People used to make fun of you, and you were really unpopular until you turned 16, and became super hot, which made you humble, even though I'd go out on a limb and call you a diva. Your favorite movie is Hackers, and your favorite drink is jagermeister. You have no religious views, and find christianity to be a cult, which is is. You've been registered with the green party since you've been able to vote. You want to get rid of all the pollution through bioaugmenting single celled organisms, among other things. Your favorite color is yellow, and you have a pet rat named Cher. You want to be as famous as Madonna. Do you want me to go on?" Was this guy a psychic vampire, and trying to steal all my energy? Maybe I reminded him of himself at a much younger age. Why did he care enough to remember?
"Wow, I'm surprised you were listening that entire time, now I wish I hadn't disclosed so much information. In fact, you know too much, so now I have to kill you." The lawyer laughed. It makes me feel good when other people like my dark sense of humor- it's the only way for me, I just can't help hating slapstick. Why doesn't everyone have a dark sense of humor- have then never been through shit before or not? It seems like the darker the sense of humor, the worse the person suffered. "Well, let me rack my brain about your past. You grew up on the east coast to a wealthy family, then got shuffled through systems, institutions, and avenues of affluence that were pre set up for white men until you arrived in law school, where you schmoozed your way into a position of power using a combination of good looks and good personality." Should I go there? Yeah, I think I should. "But at the end of the day, you're left alone. Your heart holds deep sadness, because you know at the end of the day, your life is just as meaningless as the Mexican woman who cleans your toilet. You haven't done anything to make the world a batter place, in fact you have used your intelligence and hard work to nothing aside from preserve money to the upper class in our unequal, stratified society. You've always wanted it all, but somehow you've managed to amass such a large amount of wealth that you now realized nobody will ever love you for you, and any guy you get with will only be after one thing- your money. So, you try to find wholeness through working out, traveling, and telling yourself you're very fulfilled, that you have everything, and your life is perfect. Does this sound like an accurate read?"
His eyes were dark, and if they were seeing inside his brain. "How do you know so much?" was all he could say. I would try to explain my psychic powers, but I knew that would just come out sounding a little too new age, and that's not even me cause I'm an abercrombie and fitch kind of guy in the first place.
"Well, there's a million guys like me in the world, guys with big dreams and lofty ambitions that we both know are never going to really materialize. But, just like there's a million guys like me, there's a million guys like you too. You're not a unique person, in spite of not being average. Our brains are just running on scrips and schemas, we're both playing a role. Didn't I mention my theory about how life is one big reality TV episode?"
"I really want to kiss you, Mark. I don't think you're white trash. You're a really cool guy." That's what they all say. His mouth latched onto my fat lower lip and he sucked gently. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and his face was stubbly, which felt good. I wondered if he was going to shave in the morning, or if I would even be in this house when it was morning. Why do I insist on reliving my childhood issues over and over? Was this guy going to feed me, because all I had since breakfast was starfucks, and I was really hungry and basically broke until Tuesday (I had been scouring my college apartment for saltines).
To make a long story short, I messed around with the lawyer too many times that I fell in love, and it really hurt me when he wouldn't try to take the next step with me. Our whole sex life consisted of us kissing, and him touching me or sucking my dick, it was pretty one sided. Maybe I should have been more open, it seemed like he didn't get off on the idea of molesting me.
When I moved away from my parents house and went to college, I thought socializing would come easier. I'd been popular in high school, I've always been really grown up for my age. It's ironic that I still look 16 even though I'm almost 21 now, but that's not my fault. I can't help it if when I smile my eyes don't wrinkle. I'm not disingenuous, it's merely the biological architecture of my face that makes me look so stoic. That and I'm hard. But that's another story.
The truth is life is like high school all over again, but in different places. Sometimes I get scared and think that this is how life is going to be forever. I got involved with a man, for purposes of the story I'll just call him the lawyer.
***
It was late afternoon/early evening on a Thursday. That morning I had been stuck in a rather stressful physics lab- in short the measurements my group was getting were not what they should have been, and when the lab instructor tells you to just lie about the numbers I always feel defeated. It makes me feel like I won't be a good scientist. Anyways, I was at Starfucks picking up my drink, forgetting the frustrations of the a.m. hours and anticipating the many more frustrations that seem to come my way daily. I quickly sat down to text my room mate and call a friend back, when a clean cut attractive blond man sat down next to me at the small 2 person table. All of a sudden he locked eyes with mine. "Hi, I couldn't help but notice you from across the room, you got the same drink as me. My name's John. What's yours?"
"Kyle," I responded. My name is Mark, but I never tell anyone I just meet my real name. When I'm feeling receptive yet cautious, my mouth usually spits out Kyle. When I'm feeling sexy and powerful it's Buck, but that's another story (rhymes with fuck).
"Kyle, I think you're really beautiful. You're just so statuesque..."
"Actually, my name is Mark." I don't know why I lied to a clean looking guy like that, I mean he probably has money. "I just tell people my name is Kyle if I think they're sketchy." Did I mention that I don't trust anyone? Everyone I ever loved ended up dead, or betraying me on a fundamental level. I don't even trust myself to do the right thing. The lawyer laughed.
"What's so questionable about me? Do you think I'm going to take you home fuck you then kill you? Or kill you then fuck you. Mark is a cute name anyways, you should be proud of it." All of a sudden I started feeling this guy, anyone with a sense of humor is someone I want to know. Nobody can ever make me laugh! Laughing is all I want. Laughter and passionate sex. "Why don't I just call you golden boy, cause you're the one who has what everyone else wants."
I love how people think they can get you on their side through compliments, because it usually works, which meant that I had to pull a fast one. Gotta keep em guessing, I always say. "You're old enough to be my dad," I said. I wonder how this cocky old asshole is going to act now. I was surprised that only a few seconds had gone by in this conversation, yet it had already (indirectly) went straight to sex. I often wonder if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach or his dick.
"I am old enough to be your dad. But you're old enough to make your own decisions, and enter into legally binding contracts, so I think it's ok if I talk to you." I searched the man's face. Everyone just wants something from you, but what did think guy want from me? A challenge? Something young, beautiful, and pure that could be content to stand in someone's shadow and be a kept man? Cause I could so easily be that guy.
"So daddy, what do you do for a living?" I asked.
"I'm a high powered attorney," He replied. "Basically I lie, cheat, and steal for sketchy people who have so much money it does nothing but cause them problems." So, basically he was telling me he's a tool. I love it when people's lives mean nothing yet on the surface they appear to be successful. "What career path are you looking to go down, buddy?" Was he being dismissive? I know I'm white trash, but it's never ok when other people remind me. It makes me competitive.
"I'm studying to be a scientist so I can cure AIDS," I replied. "I mean, that's on my list, but I really have so many more schemes up my sleeve." His face looked older, but strangely attractive. I'm sure when he was young this guy was a stud. He looks healthy, maybe in his early 30s, but it's hard to tell. I wanted to see what his dick looked like.
"Wow, that sounds really ambitious," the guy said with a smile. I couldn't help but automatically wonder if this man before me happened to be HIV positive. I mean, I had just been socialized to expect that the generation before me is basically 100% pos. At the same time, I didn't mean to be abrasive to someone who could potentially benefit me. Stop acting like a bitch for no reason Mark, you're not in the club hooking up with another sweaty white trash nothing, this guy might be loaded. Act cute and smile, don't be negative. Tell them what they want to hear.
"It just makes me sad that we've already lost so many special gay people. I want to make sure it ends with me. More difficult things have been done than find a cure." The sad fact is what I was saying really was true. I love to get preachy, it makes me feel assertive.
"That really touches my heart. I've lost a lot of people close to me already. When I was goring up it was a very different time- there were not gay people on TV, or in political power. Back then, your friends were your family, so it made it so much harder to loose people. I've already been to too many funerals. Sex isn't supposed to kill." This personal anecdote was making this guy grow on me, even though I didn't really know why.
"Well, in case you are, you can always pay me to cure it, I already figured out a way to regrow an immune system." People always think I'm being facetious, when I'm trying to be real.
"I guess I just happened to get lucky. That's what other people tell me, that I'm lucky for being negative, but since I've seen so many people die I'm left to wonder if I actually am lucky. I've had a lot of sex, just not with a lot of people." Just because he was telling me that didn't make it true. Another post modern dilemma. I knew where this was going.
"Hey it's such a nice day, and we're so close to the beach. Do you want to go for a walk?" I offered. I had a feeling this one had beach front property."
"Yeah, let's go for a ride in my car. I live really close to the beach anyways. It's a Friday night, after all." What was that supposed to mean? Did he want to go to tiger heat with me, cause I wouldn't be caught dead in a public place with this guy, what would other people think? Basically, that he's my sugar daddy and I'm a gold digger, and I'm not. I can make my own way through this world, thank you very much. Mo money, mo problems, isn't that what Tupac said?
***
It was about 8 p.m. and the rusty crimson sky behind the flawless Malibu shoreline had just began to turn red from yellow. How did I get here, and why am I hanging out in a beach front mansion? I'm just another nothing from the inland empire. It's not like I let people know that, but it's the sad, broken truth. What about when this guy tries to get fresh with me? Am I supposed to oppose someone who is "powerful" and my second most pressing question- what is wrong with this guy? On the surface he seems perfect, which means that there's something fundamentally flawed underneath the exterior. Does he have a dungeon in the basement full of all sorts of terrible things he plans on doing to me?
"You told me you like jagermeister," he said, handing me a drink. I was surprised he remembered such a minor detail from our "romantic walk on the beach" which consisted of him asking me about myself and me talking about myself. I think he could tell that I'm guarded, which I am, but I will reveal anything about myself if somebody just asks. I'm so not mysterious, I wish I could answer questions with questions and be untouchable and exotic.
"I'm surprised that you remembered," I replied.
"Actually, I remember everything you told me. You were born a few days after me surprisingly, only in 1986, which makes me 19 years older than you- in short old enough to be your father. Your real father fucked you as a child, then disappeared for good when you were in your early teens. Your mom was a tool, but you can't help loving her, same as most gay boys. People used to make fun of you, and you were really unpopular until you turned 16, and became super hot, which made you humble, even though I'd go out on a limb and call you a diva. Your favorite movie is Hackers, and your favorite drink is jagermeister. You have no religious views, and find christianity to be a cult, which is is. You've been registered with the green party since you've been able to vote. You want to get rid of all the pollution through bioaugmenting single celled organisms, among other things. Your favorite color is yellow, and you have a pet rat named Cher. You want to be as famous as Madonna. Do you want me to go on?" Was this guy a psychic vampire, and trying to steal all my energy? Maybe I reminded him of himself at a much younger age. Why did he care enough to remember?
"Wow, I'm surprised you were listening that entire time, now I wish I hadn't disclosed so much information. In fact, you know too much, so now I have to kill you." The lawyer laughed. It makes me feel good when other people like my dark sense of humor- it's the only way for me, I just can't help hating slapstick. Why doesn't everyone have a dark sense of humor- have then never been through shit before or not? It seems like the darker the sense of humor, the worse the person suffered. "Well, let me rack my brain about your past. You grew up on the east coast to a wealthy family, then got shuffled through systems, institutions, and avenues of affluence that were pre set up for white men until you arrived in law school, where you schmoozed your way into a position of power using a combination of good looks and good personality." Should I go there? Yeah, I think I should. "But at the end of the day, you're left alone. Your heart holds deep sadness, because you know at the end of the day, your life is just as meaningless as the Mexican woman who cleans your toilet. You haven't done anything to make the world a batter place, in fact you have used your intelligence and hard work to nothing aside from preserve money to the upper class in our unequal, stratified society. You've always wanted it all, but somehow you've managed to amass such a large amount of wealth that you now realized nobody will ever love you for you, and any guy you get with will only be after one thing- your money. So, you try to find wholeness through working out, traveling, and telling yourself you're very fulfilled, that you have everything, and your life is perfect. Does this sound like an accurate read?"
His eyes were dark, and if they were seeing inside his brain. "How do you know so much?" was all he could say. I would try to explain my psychic powers, but I knew that would just come out sounding a little too new age, and that's not even me cause I'm an abercrombie and fitch kind of guy in the first place.
"Well, there's a million guys like me in the world, guys with big dreams and lofty ambitions that we both know are never going to really materialize. But, just like there's a million guys like me, there's a million guys like you too. You're not a unique person, in spite of not being average. Our brains are just running on scrips and schemas, we're both playing a role. Didn't I mention my theory about how life is one big reality TV episode?"
"I really want to kiss you, Mark. I don't think you're white trash. You're a really cool guy." That's what they all say. His mouth latched onto my fat lower lip and he sucked gently. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and his face was stubbly, which felt good. I wondered if he was going to shave in the morning, or if I would even be in this house when it was morning. Why do I insist on reliving my childhood issues over and over? Was this guy going to feed me, because all I had since breakfast was starfucks, and I was really hungry and basically broke until Tuesday (I had been scouring my college apartment for saltines).
To make a long story short, I messed around with the lawyer too many times that I fell in love, and it really hurt me when he wouldn't try to take the next step with me. Our whole sex life consisted of us kissing, and him touching me or sucking my dick, it was pretty one sided. Maybe I should have been more open, it seemed like he didn't get off on the idea of molesting me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)