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10:10 p.m. - June 09, 2003
Gay sex 10. Talk about something new
I wonder why it is that as much as I fear and despise the past and seek to leave it behind, I continue to carry it with me less like a satchel and more like an unnecessary layer of skin. Slough off, molt, flay Ė do something, anything instead of making a grand attempt to convince myself I like being this way, that Iím one of those people who for better or worse prefer solitude and the safety of being immune emotionally, free from entanglements. I can nearly disassociate but not quite, sotto voce murmurs float out of range, you donít want this, you want more, you want to experience and revel in the flush of passion and let the little Jason out and rebuttals play catch-up with words already sent and heard.

Another event which will make a few readers shake their head: I met a guy who makes me dizzy, yet another one who finds my voice sexy and my smile alluring and this time it was I who made the move Ė me! Ė minutes after he inquired into a girlfriend Ė negative, I said Ė and then a boyfriend and I told the truth, blushed, said not any more and he gave me a big smile. Our meeting Ė yes, he is the district rep Ė ended at 2:00 but he didnít go home until 8:00. I took him into my bedroom and I was a top.

Iím feeling quite embarrassed.

Incredulous, unashamed yet.

When he came close I pushed him away, no kissing, and then I put my fingers in his mouth and I was turned on and I kissed him, sucked on his tongue, was shy when he said I am a good kisser. Off the bat he said I can tell I am more attracted to you than you are to yourself and I was taken aback and in that instant thought perhaps putting my tongue in his mouth conveyed mystical properties akin to the fear of a camera stealing oneís soul if photographed. I didnít respond but I was shy, my nervousness betraying any semblance of cool and experience but I told him clearly and without a hint of uncertainty: I want to be inside you and damn, those are powerful words. I leached confidence from the air I suspect and struggled to get inside but when I did Ė it felt like I was being pulled deep by iron fists clenched around my dick, almost like I was being swallowed up by a vacuum and each time I pulled it completely out it was as if I won a tug of war with an unseen pneuma. I worried I wasnít doing it right Ė after all, what tricks do I know (that is a poor pun) Ė and he pointed out his own hardon and I have only a partial frame of reference; sometimes with Spec I would stay hard when he was inside but not usually but apparently this is part of the deal.

Suddenly Iím feeling shy.

Damn it, I want to talk about this, review it, relish it.

I didnít know what to do immediately afterwards. Remember, all Iíve had this way was Spec and weíd cuddle and nap, talk. With the other guys itís been me leaving, thanking them, taking off as quickly as possible. I didnít know what to tell him Ė See ya? Thanks? Ė and he asked, have any porn? and I laughed, told him nothing heíd like and we kind of talked about my experience and in a few minutes I was up again, aching, and he rode it and I think this position is the silliest there is for two men; with Spec Iíd laugh some when he did that, but he Ė I need a name, donít I? An initial will suffice for now Ė T. began doing something that I liked and the second time was me finishing by jacking off onto his chest. I donít feel comfortable around cum; I become nervous and as effete as the term is, it applies: I get fluttery, queasy, a little scared. The guys that have given me head all swallowed (except one, but I didnít notice because my eyes were closed) and with Spec Ė well, I kind of like swallowing (heh.. thatís nasty! Remember when I was clueless?) Ė and immediately felt guilty, ashamed but T. smiled and then he came.

I donít want this to be prurient, simply a record. Iím bothered because I wasnít bothered then and Iím not bothered now [Editorís note: first wrote yet]; mostly Iím stunned Ė yet inordinately pleased Ė by these actions. We cooked dinner together and he was comfortable in my house, far more comfortable than I usually am. How odd to me. I didnít know how to tell him to go, to flee, to let me sink into that hatred I feel after sex. T. seemed entirely at ease though he did mention something potentially awkward (again, reminding me of those mystical powers) and we talked Ė I talked, he listened Ė and I talked almost nonstop - and I felt okay with it, I felt okay knowing someone used my bathroom, my shower, had sweat into my sheets, had come in my bedroom Ė hmm, that last phrase kills two birds, eh Ė and more importantly, I felt good. I didnít feel dirty or small or quiet or anything other than self-satisfied and a little abashed countered with a good deal of cockiness. I donít know if he shovels compliments but today I didnít mind them though I suspect he simply likes to see me blush. I think a little part of me didnít want him to go quickly and Iím glad he didnít; had he, Iím sure I would have felt bad immediately.

So all of this and finally he left; he called a few minutes ago. I decided to see him again.

Iíve never done anything quite like this before.

Five points for me today.

Of course, I may deduct points tomorrow when it hits me, but remember today, I had fun, I felt no guilt, no shame, no horror, only a tinge of incredulousness. And I liked it.

 

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