Get your own
 diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

11:21 p.m. - January 15, 2003
Don't read this one if you're offended by gay sex
Enough moral hand-wringing and deliberations on how the adage Know Thyself taunts me, enough equivocating and saying I'm different, therefore cannot be.

I had sex tonight with a guy and I'm stunned by my actions. This is pussy-footing. Aside from Spec, the (few) times I've had sex with another guy was limited: You suck me off, I go home; I don't talk, I don't want you to talk. Tonight didn't follow the pattern. I don't understand why and I'm disliking what I see.

I've known him for a while at Stanford and he had put two and two together about me and Spec, though never said anything to Spec himself (smart guy, him). We've talked occasionally since I left school and he was a perpetual flirt - always succeeded in making me blush and stammer - and intentions were double entendres and comments which only magnified my insecurities (You have such kissable lips). This afternoon I didn't think, I dialed and told him what I wanted and tonight found myself being abusive and I don't like what I did.

With Spec I was the submissive one and I admit, it was a turn on in many ways. Occasionally Spec would bottom for me but the roles were generally clear, though I wonder now if they were delineated less because of desires and more out of his machismo and obsession with being a Real Man. Tonight, I was the dominant one and it scared me the way I was demanding and simply used him. It was a bad porn plot, him sucking me off while I watched The Fresh Prince of Bel Air and then Friends, calling him names and talking nasty to him, pulling on his hair and slapping his face. And all throughout I thought What's the big deal? The deal is that I'm no better than the rest of what I still refer to as them; no better than anonymous sex in some dark alley and the more I thought about this the more dominant I was and the more he got into it. And it was so easy, so simple and this is not what I want.

The first time I came he swallowed and before I knew it was ready again and he kept going and I used him and didn't recognize myself at all. What does this mean? I felt a rush of confidence one minute and anger the next, angry that it takes a guy slurping on my dick to make me feel in control, self-assured. Cocky. And I was. I made him beg for it and he kept saying things like The quiet guys are the most fun and I was disgusted by him and by myself and the second time I came I smeared it across his face and said some awful things and left. It was wrong on many levels and immediately after I felt guilty and ashamed and conflicted - I say I don't want this but I won't deny I enjoyed it, I say I'm not like them but isn't this a fuck-buddy situation, I say I prefer love and relationships over the shallow pit of instant gratification and then I gratify myself.

Where did all this come from? And why? I can't put my finger on this matrix of when why where and how come, why do these wants manifest and in response to what stimuli, and how transparent my I'm not one of them truly is. I can't begin to rationalize this one and I'm at a loss. I'm disgusted with myself but there's a tiny part that cheers the intrepid and that's the part that I want most to squash.

I'm at a loss.

 

previous - next

 

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at DiaryLand.com!