Monday, October 31, 2011

Halloween Special: Eddie's Teddy

Today is Halloween, a time when many boys and girls dress up as ghosts or zombies or streetwalkers or whatever they had lying around the house when they woke up thirty minutes before the party with a hangover. It is also traditionally a time when small theaters in cities across the country open their doors late at night to allow the frightening and sexy group of fans who dress in fishnets and gold briefs to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The Rocky Horror Picture Show, for those of you who have never seen it (shame on you!) is a cult musical from 1975, and is known for being such a bad movie that people pay money to go see it, mock the actors, and shout insults and throw toast at the screen. Seeing the movie is always fun, but nothing compares to seeing it at a theater with a "shadow cast" of actors performing the film on stage in front of the screen. Many shadow casts are beyond skilled and beyond compare in their obsession with this film. And I should know. One summer I was a shadow cast groupie.

Allow me to explain: It was the summer after my senior year of high school. My two friends and I were obsessed with Rocky Horror. The shadow cast that had been performing in Maine for years was giving one final series of performances before retiring from shadow cast performances for good. They were going to be performing RHPS for six weeks, every Saturday at midnight, and my friends and I were determined to be there for every performance. And we were. We could be seen sitting out early in the night (usually getting there around 10pm if not earlier so that we could get the best seats) waiting for the theater to open, and talking with the shadow cast. We became very well recognized by all the members of the cast and they started looking forward to greeting us at the door.

After the final performance that summer, my friends and I stuck around to help clean, which was something we had tried to do as often as possible. With all the rice that gets thrown during the average Rocky Horror screening, it was quite a job and they needed all the help they could get. By helping, I was afforded the chance to go to the apartments some of the cast members had close by and enter with them. My favorite of the group, and the one who clearly favored me, was the man who played the character Eddie, portrayed by Meat Loaf in the movie.

Hot-Patootie! Bless my soul!
Eddie was a sexy younger man well on his way to becoming a hot bear daddy. I distinctly remember him wiping a picture of him on his forehead and then in his pants before giving it to me. You read that right. He and I got up to some interesting sexual antics in public along the lines of groping, kissing, and performing fellatio on a limp rubber dick. You might recognize the Mr. Limpy. There was a time when I gave a fake blow job to one of those on stage in front of a group of laughing onlookers. And I was not drunk. Such are the lives of the young.

Eddie and I didn't have an actual hook up until that last night when I followed him back to his apartment to drop some things off. My friends and I were already going to be meeting at the local 24 hour diner for the cast party, so hanging out with him was not a problem. When we got in the door he quickly started taking off his costume. "I'm going to take a shower." He was standing there in just his boxers. What was a seventeen year old boy like me to do?

"I'll jump in with you," I said, pulling my torn shirt over my head. I had already changed back in to fairly normal clothes, but I was still wearing a pair of small black briefs and fishnet leggings under my pants. I waited until that was all I still had on before adding, "If that's OK with you."

It was perfectly OK with him. Soon we were in the shower, naked, wet, and hard. Back then I shaved my face daily, but by almost three in the morning I had some serious stubble going on and so did he. I helped him wash his fake blood make up off before we dried off and moved in to the bedroom. It was there that I learned he had other toys besides the Mr. Limpy. One that he took a lot of pleasure in using first on himself and then on me was a vibrator that also had revolving beads in the shaft. Talk about making your head spin.

I was on all fours moaning into his pillow when he finally pulled the vibrator out of me and lined his own cock up to enter me. Like him, it was shorter and thick, and I was lucky he had opened me with a toy first because my ass needed to stretch to accommodate his size. It didn't take him long to cum, and when he did, he quickly flipped over and pushed his ass up at me. "I hope you give as good as you take," he said to me. Without further invitation, I slid into him and began fucking him. He was a moaner, and a loud one. I don't think any of his neighbors were wondering what we were doing.

After I came we both lay in bed, me slightly on top of him, sharing a joint as we felt the weariness of how long we had been awake and the activities we had just been a part of hit us. When the pot was gone, he shifted off the bed. We got dressed in a pleasant silence and rode over to the diner around four in the morning. Everyone else was only just arriving too, and they all looked just as tired as us. But once the group was together, all our energy jumped back up and we were having a ball, raising hell for the early morning diner staff.

By the time I got home it was after five-thirty, and probably closer to six in the morning. Somehow I managed to be up and at work by ten. As many times as I have seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show live since that night, it is still the night I remember the most.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Formspring and the Wonderful Saturday

I know I have been somewhat angst-ridden lately with how things are not going well for me and how I have portions of every day that go well, but never a full day, etc. I figured I would talk about how wonderful my day was yesterday. Those of you who follow me on Twitter heard bits and pieces, but what was probably the most telling notice that I was having fun was the lack of my online presence. It isn't that I don't like you guys, but when I'm having a good time I am much less likely to get on my phone and check the internet. I mostly do that when I'm bored or alone. And yesterday I was neither. I was able to finally hook up with a friend who lives in the city that I hadn't seen in almost a month (no joke, she and I have both been very busy).

I woke up after going to bed early and sleeping in and we met up early, then went off to lunch together. At lunch we related to each other many stories of our recent days and complained and shared joy, and by the time we left the restaurant, it was starting to rain pretty hard. We caught the subway and stopped on our way to seeing The Rum Diary to try and get an umbrella at the BU Barnes and Noble. Of course it was way too expensive, so we eventually found ourselves soaked and at a sports bar, getting drunk at 2:30 in the afternoon. I'm going to gloss over The Rum Diary because it was a truly awful movie in which we were forced to watch Johnny Depp be drunk and unattractive while his character did literally nothing. We wound up back at the bar after before going back to her apartment and finishing off the night with The Princess Bride and popcorn.

On my way home, the snow had piled up and the weather was cold. I passed a lot of angry drunk people and saw girls in nothing but underwear and a coat trying to keep warm. Apparently young women are stupid enough to go out in the cold rainy/snowy mix in naught but fishnets and panties on Halloween weekend. I hope being some frat boy's practice fuck was worth it. Yes. I'm judging them for being slutty. The irony is not lost on me. In any case, when I got home it was to see that some trees on my street were down (and landed on cars) causing me to actually have to cross to the other side of the street on my way back. Fortunately none of the downed trees were near me, but I am a little concerned about how the rest of the trees are going to handle the coming winter.

Now that all of that wonderful news is out of the way, I will step aside and let you all enjoy some Formspring questions. I love answering these, so feel free to ask me more. And as always, feel free to email me questions, or ask them in the comments.

Can guys fake an orgasm?

Oh yeah. Not as hard as you might think. Especially if you wear a condom and then take it off where the other person can't see it.

Are you angry that Horrible Bosses made a lot of money because it will encourage Jennifer Aniston to make more movies?

Woah. Who suddenly hates Jennifer Aniston. I actually found her quite funny in that movie. And I'm physically attracted to her. And I love Friends. What a strange question.

You're bisexual?!?!? Sigh.

I like all genders. Is that a problem? I really don't appreciate how there are men in the gay community that see bisexuality as a problem. Or a phase. Trust me: I've had sex with enough women and men to know that I'm not just confused. And I'm not just going to switch to one or the other eventually.

How much did you shave when you were swimming?

All of my body. Pubes, ass, back, everything. I even shaved my head two times, but don't look good like that at all.

Would you rather be rich or would you rather be in love?

Depends. Honestly, if I'm in love but can't afford food, I won't be in love long. Hunger truly does make love fly out the door. I've seen it happen to a couple I knew who were both in grad school full time. So if by not being rich, I'm dirt poor: I would rather be rich. However, I have comfortably lived in the lower middle class my whole life and would gladly stay there with someone I love.

Do most guys who swim and shave shave everything?

The ones who are serious about it do. If you don't shave what the suit covers, your hair will come through the pores in the spandex of the suit. This will cause drag at best, but at worst it will pull on those hairs while you swim. I don't know anyone who would swim the mile (my top event) while getting their pubes pulled out.

How do you deal with a family member who's a drama queen?

I don't deal with them. Too many of them in my family. If someone pulls that shit with me, it is over. I've cut family out of my life for shit like that.

Have you ever served on a jury? Do you think you could be impartial?

I have not, but for the most part, I think I can be impartial easily. I had to learn to be impartial to deviant behavior when I was a sociology major. It isn't that hard to give people a chance to explain themselves.

Are you a little monster?

Not really. I used to like Lady Gaga a lot, but I'm at a point with her music where not enough of it is good enough to keep me interesting. Give me some Tina Turner or Blonde any time and my fun-crazy lady fix is full.

What or who has frightened you since you were a child?

Spiders scare the fuck out of me, though I am getting better about that. The strange part is that I actually loved them when I was younger. I'd let them crawl on me and would play with them. Just the idea of that makes me shudder now.

That's all for this post. I hope you all have fun reading my responses and take the time to ask me more. I love answering these questions and sharing stuff that you wouldn't normally get through the blog.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Surprise Ending

People paying attention to the weather know it snowed in Boston last night. Whether from the snow or some other unrelated event, my cable and internet went out. So I am writing this shorter post on my phone instead of the longer one I had planned. I'm sorry if this post suffers because of using my phone. If I can, I will try to go over the post once the internet comes back.

It was the winter of my Freshman year in college and I had just returned from a passably enjoyable Christmas break (spoiled by a terrible training trip to Florida with my swim team during which time it actually snowed in Florida) and I was horny for some local fun. The guy I picked for my first ass to fuck of the new year was a man who had been chatting with me online a while before I left to go home. I had gotten a vaguely flaky vibe from him, but it seemed like everything was good to go and I would be meeting up with him and giving his ass a nice long fuck.

I did the usual amount of primping that I went through back then, shaving my face smooth in the shared bathroom while trying awkwardly not to look at the guys in the stalls (the stalls in my Frosh Men's Room had no doors so we all learned to get to know one another really well). Back then I also shaved my whole body so I stepped into the shower and did a quick once-over everything to get rid of the stubble that aggravated me to no end before I realized how much happier I am with fur. I washed my hair, brushed my teeth, and even did a shallow clean of my ass in case things flipped for me. The pictures I had seen of the guy showed a nicely-sized cock that I might want to ride for a while if he had any inclination to top.

When I was done I put on some warm clothes and trudged across the campus to my car. Things were in full swing at the time as classes got back in session, so I was happy to be away from all the bustling students for a while. The guy did not live very far away, a thirty minute drive according to mapquest. I was in high spirits as I drove out to meet him.

What answered the door was not what I had seen in the pictures. I've seen guys fudge with older pics before, but this was the worst case I have ever experienced. Not only did he not have much hair on his head when the picture clearly showed a full covering, but his nose was crooked from (I assume) being broken and he was a lot heavier than he claimed. I didn't turn around at the door, however, like I know some people do. For one, I would have found that extremely rude, but for the other, I don't have a problem with older and larger men. It was just a surprise to see someone so clearly different from his pictures. And he hadn't even suggested that what was sent was not recent. Many guys will say, "This isn't what I look like, exactly, but a good idea." None of that came up at all.

I was willing to go through with it though. I stepped into the house which was nice to look at, still had Christmas decorations up, but smelled like wet dog. There was no dog that I ever saw. He excitedly ushered me to the bedroom where he began undressing like mad, kissing me all over my body. I was thankful that his kisses were nice and not gross like I had been expecting. We made out a bit before he finally gave me space to start taking off my own clothes.

"Do a little strip tease for me," he said. One of the few words he had spoken to me since I had arrive only moments earlier.

I complied, doing my best to sexily pull a hoodie over my head. I was having fun teasing him with bits of flesh while he sat on the bed jerking off and watching. I pulled off my t-shirt and then started slowly undoing my belt, pulling it out loop by loop. He cheered me on with his "oh yeahs" while I did a little lap dance for him, and I was really starting to enjoy myself regardless of how he looked. I started thinking, Well, he has a nice personality at least. This will be fun.

I bent over while pulling down my pants, exposing my tiny-brief clad ass to him and heard him yell, "Oh, oh god, yes!"

I stood up and turned in time to see the grande finale of his smallish cock releasing its last dribble of cum onto his hand. I was shocked. "Did you just cum?" I couldn't help asking.

"Yes," he said, still shuddering a bit in the aftermath.

"Oh. OK. I'm just going to go then." I picked up my clothes and put them on. I didn't even bother to wait for him to see me out. It was clear to me that he had gotten everything he wanted to get out of our encounter and I hadn't even gotten hard yet, so I just left. I even had time to catch a movie on my way back.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The Supermoon and Romeo

Some of you may remember the Supermoon (or the more technical term: perigee-syzygy of the Earth-Moon-Sun system) of March 19, 2011. I remember it very well as a turning point for me in a lot of ways. The night was warm, unusually so because Ohio had not quite warmed up to normal spring temperatures yet. There were some spots of snow still hanging around, mostly where the plows had piled it up really high, but things were progressing. The moon was huge in the sky that night, everything around my campus had long gone silent, and I had finished whatever major assignment had kept me from going drinking with friends that night.

It was around 5am and I was totally awake, staring at my wall, and I gave up my will to stay in bed.

Romeo had just gotten off his shift working late into the night. His job at one of the few restaurants in town open past bar-closing time meant that often he was not home until 4am on weekends. We had been trading text messages on and off, talking mostly about how I couldn't sleep and how he would not mind if I came over to visit him. I had told him that I was already in bed and was hoping to fall asleep soon, but the longer the conversation went on, the more and more I realized that I had little hope of sleeping at all.

Finally around 5:30am I relented, put on a pair of jeans, a shirt, and my leather jacket, and left the make the quick walk to his apartment. It was warm enough that I probably could have left the jacket at home, but the smell and creaking sound it made as I moved comforted me. Everything was empty in the moonlight, something that almost never happened. Even in the small town I lived in, there was usually someone else around. For a moment I stopped in the middle of a street and just inhaled the air, feeling a mixture of emotions. I could sense all the change that was coming for me. Soon I would graduate, soon I would be moving to a new home, soon I would be meeting new people, trying new things, experiencing a whole new life--one totally apart from what I had known these past four years in Ohio.

When I got to Romeo's apartment, the door was unlocked and I climbed up the stairs to his bedroom. He was lying there with the TV on to some movie or another. Maybe it was one of the TV shows that channels just fill their early morning time slots with. I don't remember. I took off my clothes, stripping down to just my briefs, and climbed into bed with him. We kissed and made out for a while, but it was clear to us both that we were tired and we were not going to be having sex. That was fine with me. I had come over for the promise of a warm body beside me and arms to hug me as I made my way to sleep. I was exhausted, and I wanted to feel loved as I fell asleep.

It did not take me very long under the warmth of his blankets to realize that sleep was going to continue to elude me that night. Romeo was passed out next to me, twitching and snoring in his sleep, but all I could do was once again stare at the wall. I played a game on my cell phone. I wished that he had not turned off the TV and that I could find the remote to turn it back on again. I gave it my best effort to lay down with him, but sleeping in that moment just did not feel right.

Finally, around 7:30 in the morning, I could see the sky start to lighten with the earliest moments of dawn. I kissed Romeo gently and said that I needed to leave, I couldn't sleep. I told him I was going to just go back to my apartment where I could be awake and not bother anyone. He grumbled slightly in his sleep, but I knew that he had heard enough of what I was saying that he would not be shocked to wake up to an empty bed. I put my clothes back on and left the apartment feeling a little like a zombie. There is a kind of loss one feels when one realizes that the entire night is gone, all that sleep is wasted. It is a sad feeling to know that those hours will never be the comfort they should have been. I was grieving as I walked home.

I stopped in the same street on my way back, still empty even though 7:30 is not so early that cars would have been a surprise. In fact, the whole town was still very quiet. I had a tugging feeling, like there was something I should do, pulling me down, down. So I laid down flat on the ground in the middle of the road, just looking up at the sky where the large moon still shone as the dawn grew. Stars began fading away and I wondered what would happen if a car were to come. But no car came by. I was in a perfectly peaceful place, enjoying the spirit of the town I had called my home for four years. I was embracing nature and letting myself go. I don't remember what I thought in that moment because I thought about absolutely nothing.

There was a moment, as if a trigger had gone off or a bell had rung, when I knew I was ready. I stood up, walked the rest of the way to my apartment, up the steps and into my room. I took off my clothes and jumped in to my bed. Before I knew it, my head was on the pillow and I was asleep.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Ace Candy: Belated Birthday Edition

So this is coming a little over a month late, and that is entirely my fault. These are pictures I took of three gifts I got from my reader and dear friend, johnnyboy, that came wrapped up for my birthday. I opened them on time, but these pictures never got posted. Apparently I swiftly hid these pictures from myself and only recently found them. Sneaky man that I am, I can hide things very well, even from myself. It became a creative endeavor to find new positions and body parts to pose with these books. Let me tell you, it is no easy feat to balance three books on your chest while taking a picture.

These books were all purchased from my Amazon wishlist, and, as I have promised, any gift I receive from my readers will be displayed here on the blog. Of course, if I maintain my habit of hiding the pictures, it will not be as soon as possible. I'm being a bit silly, but I really do need to apologize to johnny for not posting the pictures sooner. And to you all as well, for depriving you of the satisfaction.

I wonder what's inside!

I also found  a few more pictures of me that I can post later on. I am a little surprised at finding so many, and a little worried that I may have missed other gifts that have been sent. If you sent me a gift and I didn't post a picture of myself either wearing or holding it, I am sorry. I'm going to sift the folder I found these ones in to try and find more. I also have a few more books that have been sent my way which I should snap some photos of.

If you would like to buy me a gift at any time, my wishlist is always up, and I am always grateful for the presents. And the more you send, the more creative I will have to get with the pictures. Thanks so much to the readers who have already sent me gifts. You are all wonderful. 

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Formspring and Man Do I Love Kids

So I spent a significant amount of time yesterday taking care of the two youngest members of my family. From around 2pm to this morning, two girls aged six and three, as well as a dog and a cat, were under my supervision. And none of them died. Now that you've all had your fun sarcastically gasping at the screen, I have to admit that it was a really fun and enlightening experience for me. I have always known that I love kids and have always suspected that I want to have some, but this was the first time I got to experience having kids. It was exhausting and tiring, and at 9pm when I sent the oldest to bed, it felt like it was already well after midnight. But once I knew that both girls were in bed and asleep, I had this wonderful sense of everything feeling right. I was the only person still awake, I had the TV on, the dog at my feet, and even alone in the large house my cousin owns, I still felt right. I now fully believe that some day I am destined to own a nice house and have children who wear me out, but still bring me joy. While for some people that is a given reality, it has never been guaranteed for me. While I suspect that some or many of my readers are in the same boat as me, there is still the societal norm of having kids and a house in the suburbs. Last night was the first time I actually felt like I could live that life and not lose my distinct identity to the family ideal. I can see myself being the sexy father who fools around while still bringing his kids up well. This is all, of course, way in the future, but in this moment, I can see it on the horizon.

Anyway, enough of the future projections that may or may not come true. Time to get to the nitty gritty and answer some questions! As always, you can ask me anything on Formspring or use the contact info on the side to shoot me an email. I love answering these questions, so keep them coming!

Have you ever burned your testicles while cooking in the nude?

Not my testicles. But my arms and hands. Then again, I've burned those while cooking clothed. I don't generally make a mess cooking so I'm usually safe for naked stuff.

Have you ever been present at an autopsy? Would you like to be? Does that interest you?

Not at an autopsy, but I've been to a body farm before. I also got to watch a bit of cadaver dissection. Dating a forensic biology major and rooming with another one allowed me to learn all kinds of things about dead bodies.

Armpits: wear deodorant or go natural.

Depends on various things. If I'm going to have sex I usually won't wear any because I find that most men who like pits will want me to be natural. However, I don't go around without deodorant all the time. I sweat a lot and can get pretty rank on a hot day or after a lot of activity. Though, I have been complimented on having a more pleasant funk than most.

Have you ever turned your gold into cash?

I never had gold to begin with. I did turn in some silver once, but frankly the whole thing is a bit of a rip-off unless you sell at a local, family run appraisal business. You're better off selling your old gold and silver on ebay or something.

If you woke up a woman for a day, what would you do that only a woman could do?

Have my period. Just kidding. Really though, when I see this question I think, "Why would I want to be a woman for a day?" It isn't that I think women are worse than men. I just like being in MY body too much to switch. Even for a day.

Are you an optimistic person?

I'm generally very optimistic, especially outwardly when dealing with friends. I keep the positive attitude going. Sometimes, however, in my head I'm nothing but a pessimist and I don't give myself the benefit of the doubt. It sucks.

What is your favorite Feel Good Film?

Because I love movies and have seen more than I can count, there are a few I would say are my favorites. In no order: Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Princess Bride, and Barbarella: Queen of the Galaxy. Not a normal list, for sure, but those ones always make me smile, even when I have the jokes memorized.

IS 30 Minutes or Less One of the great disappointments of the cinematic year?

Haven't seen it, but I can say I thought it looked like a crap film. So if I saw it, I would probably feel vindicated more than disappointed. I just don't like bad movies.

Why Is Lionsgate Trying To Turn The Hunger Games Into Twilight?

Don't ask me to even pretend to care about these two travesties to the literary and film communities.

Are you the type of person who figures out the murderer in a book or movie?

Easily. Usually within the first 40 pages or 20 minutes. I have pegged the murderer simply by watching a trailer. I knew who the devil was in Devil from the trailer. Same with the ending of Shutter Island.

That's all for this week. See you all in the next installment.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Early Beginnings: Piss

Way back in June I wrote the first of what I claimed would be a long series of posts describing my early sexual developments and activities. I never thought it would take me this long to revisit this series, especially because the story I have to tell today is one that I am a bit fond of for the fun involved as well as the light-hearted innocence. Well, that is how I perceive it, anyway. For those of you who were reading all those many months ago, I am sorry that it has taken so long to come back to this topic. For those who were not reading back then, I recommend you go take a look. I think it can be very fun to see how children act. Plus, I was just adorable as a child.

The first time I ever was covered in piss, it was not in a sexual setting. It was years before I was entertaining thoughts of sex or sexual activities. I likely only had the most basic knowledge of how sex worked. Yet, I consider this story to be a part of my sexual development for a couple of reasons. The first, and possibly most obvious, is my current joy in piss play. I love to give and receive piss play as part of my sexual activities. It is not something that happens often (which is a shame), but I get a real kick out of it. The second reason I am including it is because I took pleasure out of it back then, but years later when including it in sex, I had to rediscover the sensation of being pissed on. It had become something dirty and forbidden to me. The process of turning something forbidden into something pleasurable is always interesting to me, and something I will explore in another post.

This story takes place when I am very young. I was in my early years of grade school, still at the time described in the earlier post, where I am kissing girls and learning about such things. It was the summer, and the summer recreation group I was a part of had taken a trip to some nearby river or another. I have actually wanted to return to this river in recent years but have no point of reference as to where it is. My buddy (we had a firm and set buddy system) and I were in our swim trunks and playing around by the water when both of us realized we had to go to the bathroom. We were far away from the public bathrooms, and we would have had to ask one of the adults to walk us there, which neither one of us wanted to do.

This buddy and I had been close all summer; being fast friends, then best friends, then extremely close friends. Already we had played the "show me yours, I'll show you mine" game multiple times. I don't really remember what I thought about when looking in his pants. The most I remember is an absolute lack of shock at anything I had seen. I had already been taking swim lessons for years at that point, and had plenty of experience seeing naked men in the locker room (a matter for a different post). At this point in our relationship he and I had little problem seeing each other naked and decided that the easiest thing to do in this situation was to walk a little in to the bushes beside the river and just pee there.

Standing side-by-side, we both dropped our swim trunks and began peeing. I remember it always felt like I had to pee forever back then, something that has been explained to me as being because of the urine having to get through the smaller penis. Whatever the reason, it felt like we had been peeing for a while. We started to joke around, aiming at certain leaves and areas, and then his stream accidentally hit my foot. In perfect childish form, I retaliated by spraying directly on his leg. This eventually created a piss war between the two of us, culminating in us both being soaked from the hips down and laughing our young heads off. We lifted our shorts and went back to the river to wash off.

Later that day (I assume after lunch) we had to pee again and decided to go back to the bushes. This time we decided to forget pretenses and just pee on each other. It was fun, and totally non-sexual. I enjoyed the feeling of the warm stream hitting different parts of my body and I moved to get as much under it as possible. He did the same. I have no idea why we did it, but it was very fun. And it brought us even closer together than we had been before. I have always said that there is little that can bring two men closer together than sharing piss, and it seems that I felt that way even back then. It was like we had become brothers or something. We played with each other's piss a few times after that day and never felt any kind of shame in what we did.

It was not until later that I learned to view piss as something gross to be avoided. It turned from a fun warm liquid into something to be avoided. I sometimes (ok, only a few times) wondered if this first play session was part of the reason I was able to so easily shed the idea of piss being gross. It was around seven years later when I was next pissed on. Seven years of stigma and societal norms. Yet, I was able to shed them shortly after being formally introduced to piss play. This event is the only explanation I can come up with.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

When Things Go Well

My last blog post was all about some of the problems I have had of late and how they have kept me from my major mode of interacting with you all, here on Blogger. This post I would like to dedicate to the things that have made me happy recently, things that I think have helped me keep my head above the surface these past few days.

The biggest point of joy in my recent life has got to be my dinner Thursday night. I've been pretty honest about the fact that I feel somewhat alone in Boston, I haven't yet been able to connect with people and make friends like I had hoped. All my stress has sort of prevented that from happening, sadly. I do want to get out there and make friends and maybe even be a regular at some place or another, but as of yet I have not had the ability or the will. I'm lucky if at the end of the day I have enough energy in me to make my way to the family owned shop on the corner for a sandwich. I have been very fortunate in that my great friend, Rob (who writes A Breeders Journal), knows a nice guy in the area and offered to introduce us. I have to say, I pretty much jumped at the opportunity. I love Rob dearly and was sure that if he thought this man was a good match for me, I would love him too. Well, we got to talking and sending messages back and forth for a while. He is a reader of both Rob's blog and my own, so he knew a lot more about me than I did about him. Still, it was very enjoyable to make my introductions and develop a dialogue with him.

Then we had dinner together. It started with us meeting at Harvard Square and moving to a nice cafe in the area that, while cozy, was not full of students like many places in the Cambridge area can be. We were able to talk very openly to one another. He was hilarious and enjoyed my often insane monologues. Somehow I managed to be nervous and charismatic at the same time while not scaring him away. He is a handsome bear with a scruffy face and a stud in his ear. We moved on to a place where I could eat meat and he could still be comfortable in his vegetarian diet. I kept losing track of time with him. It was five, then seven, then time for both of us to catch our separate subways home. I rode the train elated at the way the night had worked out and wondering when he and I would be able to get together again. I slipped in to bed that night feeling tired, but very happy to have made a new friend. I felt like a ridiculous kid, but he brought that out of me. Strange how that works.

There has also been a series of dream-related happenings that made me happy recently. And I am not so surprised that they all have had to do with Rob, who I realize I have been missing recently (pulling away from friends means that I have pulled away from him too). Rob appeared in a dream I had recently where I was at his house for part of the dream, and we were both playing video games. It was one of those moments of pure fun that you can have between two people who care about each other. I am not sure what game we were playing, but we were laughing and enjoying ourselves.

My second dream with Rob was much shorter, but also much more important to me. In this dream I was in bed, lying on my right side with my head tilted down towards the end of my bed. In the dream I opened my eyes and saw a familiar pair of feet playing lightly with my own. My eyes drifted up and enjoyed looking at a lovely pair of legs that ended at a crotch covered only by a pair of white trunks. I raised my head even more until I met his smiling face, looking right at me. I started to say, "Rob, what are you doing here?" But he cut me off by reaching out and grabbing the sides of my head, pulling me in, and lightly kissing my forehead. He looked in my eyes and said, "I love you," and I felt so wonderfully warm. The feeling carried over when I woke up, as if his sweet body were still wrapped around my own. I could still feel where he had kissed my forehead, as if the dream lips remained pressed to me. It was a beautiful start to my day.

And finally, yesterday morning, I told Rob I had been dreaming about him on Twitter. He replied that he had a dream about a golden retriever, suggesting that the dog had been me. The idea of me visiting this amazing man I care for deeply in his dreams as a playful dog made my heart jump and my spirit soar. The two of us even agreed that I had the same color hair, that it must have been me. It was wonderful, and the happy mood it put me in lasted throughout the day, in spite of a few unsavory events that followed it. Nothing could stop a smile from reaching my face every time I thought about it.

The last thing that has kept me going these past few days is the constant attention and contact I have gotten from friends I am very close to online. These are people who would never allow me to slip away from their sights even in my deepest of depressions. These people care about me, wish me well, and often times feel like family to me. These people, when they read this, will likely know who they are; men and women who hardly let a day go by without saying something to me, and who constantly check up on me the moment I let my bad mood show. Who think nothing of offering advice and comfort when I am feeling down. Thanks to you guys especially.

My readers, too, have kept me going in their own way. The support I got from you all for my last post was just amazing. I am moved beyond words at your replies. I expected very little feedback from you all. I wrote these two posts for myself and put the last one up expecting nothing more than a few pats on the back. But you all have shown me once again that I have the best readers out there. And you are all right, I should not let life get me down. And I should start asking help of others. And I should definitely not pull away from the support which you all have clearly shown me. Thank you all so much. It means a lot to me.

Monday, October 17, 2011

When Things Go Bad

Hi everyone. I'm afraid that today's blog post is going to be another one that is light on sex and heavy on Ace.

As my wonderful readers who have stayed with me since my life started to get rocky know, things have not been going so well for me lately. Problems have affected every aspect of my life, forcing me to have to take a step back a re-evaluate everything and even take a break from things. That is why the blog has been updating so irregularly lately. I am doing what I can, when I have time, and when I am in a place mentally that I can write, but some times days when I am able and willing are few and far between. This past week is a great example.

The week started out great, with me in a good head space about life and things in general. I even squeezed off a few posts, and enjoyed reading your comments.  I don't know what happened, but towards the end of the week my head space got cluttered and I got bogged down in drudgery and I just stopped posting blogs. Not even one of my weekly Formspring blogs. When people ask me what is wrong (and if they can help; you all are so kind!) I tell them that it is hard to point to any one cause of my bummed out mood. And that is true. It is not just one thing or another, it is a large number of things coming together and hitting me all at once. I try to get some breathing room, I try to even get ahead, but it never seems to last and I'm not sure why. Still, I am hopeful for the future.

What makes me hopeful? There are a few things. I know that these things come and go and everything happens to us for a reason. I know that, no matter what, I will rise to the occaision and fight back against my problems, fighting to save myself from sinking deeper and deeper into my own personal Slough of Despond or Doldroms (Pilgrim's Progress and The Phantom Tollbooth, for those who enjoy my literary references). I have been to my bottom, and I would like to never go back there again.

The biggest hope maker in my life right now is the fact that a lot of people I know are going through a bad time too. That may sound harsh, but it is not what it sounds like. The knowledge that other people are hitting walls and being bombarded with problems helps me feel like I am still connected to the rest of the world, I know I am not alone. They say that misery loves company, but maybe it is a way of helping ourselves, rather than keeping others down. I would rather be in pain with everyone else than feel like everything was only happening to me. I need to keep in contact with people, and I need to be around others. That is what truly helps me get by.

Sadly, I have caught myself slipping up. I am mostly alone in this city now that I have moved, so most of my connections are made online or on my phone. But lately the internet has held no interest for me. To the point that I have spent very little time on my computer the past few days. In fact, since I left for dinner last Thursday, I have probably spent a full seven or eight hours on my computer total. In all fairness, I have been tired and on Saturday I left the city to spend time with my family, but I have not done any of my normal online interactions. No blogs, no YouTube (which I watch obsessively), no Netflix, and very little email interaction. In fact, most of my recent computer time has been spent either filling out job applications or checking my online classes. Possibly the only thing that has saved me from total lock out on communicating with people I know is the fact that I get Twitter and Facebook on my phone, and I never leave my phone behind.

I can't tell if my lack of computer was from being tired (I have napped a lot during the day recently due to trouble sleeping at night), being depressed, or a little of both. Or, it may have to do with the fact that my school is all online and I just needed a break from my "campus." Whatever the cause, I am feeling a bit better now, and I'm slowly (but very surely) coming back to my love: the computer. Hopefully this is a good trend and one I continue. I don't like slipping back into the pit I know I carry with me, so I try my best to react when I see the signs.

I will tell you all that I am looking in to seeing someone to talk about my life and my recent problems. I have been to therapy before and it really helped me, so I hope that talking things out this time will help me put things in perspective and allow me a place to vent my frustrations and sorrows. I have always been and likely will always be an advocate for therapy, it really helps, at least for me. Hopefully we all will see the good that comes from it.

Next blog: When Things Go Well

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Ace Candy: Happy National Coming Out Day Edition

Today is National Coming Out Day and I wanted to put a post on my blog to honor those who are brave enough and in a safe enough situation to live their lives out of the closet. Today isn't just about coming out gay, either. You can come out about any aspect of yourself that you keep hidden. Are you a nerd? Do you leave piles of dirty dishes in the sink? Are you a (gasp) nose fetishist? Whatever you want to come out about, today is the perfect day to do it. Or, if you are already out, celebrate the fact that you are able to be honest while others are not so lucky.

As many of you know, I'm only out to my mother, not my father or anyone else in my family. In fact, there are some in my family who I would prefer die before they have even a hint of the activities I have engaged in during my short life. I'm out to many of my friends, but not all, because I know some of them wouldn't understand and the other usual reasons. The sad fact is I went to college in Northwest Ohio where people are not as accepting as downtown San Francisco. So many of my friends would have a problem with my lifestyle.

To honor those who are out, I will re-announce my status as a pansexual. What is a pansexual, you ask? Well, essentially it is a label. One that I think fits me best. My reasoning for being pansexual and not bisexual is that I don't really see the world in terms of two genders. I see all genders and all gender permutations (transgender, those who are fluid in gender) as equally sexual beings. It is probably a polite way of saying that I'll fuck a person if they're moving, but it is really how I feel. I also like that the word sounds like the god Pan, who I happen to resemble a great deal with my beard and mane of yellow hair.

Also, in honor of this wonderful day, I have decided to post a couple of pictures I recently took in my new apartment (I finally have a decent mirror).

Here I am in all my hard, naked glory.

Here is my cock and my hair brush side by side for size comparison.
So whether you're gay, straight, black, white, out, in, whatever. At least you get to look at some Ace Candy while you enjoy what I'm sure will be a wonderful Tuesday.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Cold Tile

The second man who ever fucked me did it in a restroom. He was not my second time getting fucked, but he was the second man to ever enter my ass. It was still the summer of my thirteenth year and I had only recently lost my cherry (something I have yet to write about). I had already started what would turn into a fairly long career of taking loads in a bathroom at the library. Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while will recall this as the bathroom where I first sucked off my mentor, Paul. There was a steady flow of guys cruising that bathroom who were more than happy to drop a load down an eager boy's throat, and I enjoyed the attentions I got from them. The dynamic there was very interesting. They knew that the spot was a good place so they kept it as discrete as they could and always looked out for me. They loved having me suck them off and did not want anything bad to scare me away. Eventually I was scared away to the point that I have never stepped a foot in that library again, but that is another story.

When I walked into the restroom that day there were two guys already inside playing with each other. One of them was a guy who I considered a "regular," someone who I could usually count on to be there if I came at a certain time and who was more than willing to give me a load. I had a few bathroom regulars there, some who even knew me by my name, when they shared theirs. If this guy gave me his name, I don't remember it, but I do remember he was one of the more protective of the guys I would suck off, one of the ones who would help block shady guys from getting their turn. Sadly there were plenty of guys who would have hurt me or done bad things to me there, thinking nothing of it, had there not been a few men who would stop them.

I was crouched down sucking the two guys off with my shorts open and my own cock hanging out when a third man walked in. Most of the men I serviced in that bathroom were either older men who had time to kill or college kids needing some relief. I got the odd business man, but most businesses were too far away for the library to be a good spot for them, and I was usually there at an off time for that kind of guy anyway. This new man was dressed nicely and looked the part of a business man. He either gave of some kind of raw, sexual force or I imagined he did because I got very excited when he walked over and joined the other two in getting sucked by me. What I remember most about him was his big fuzzy mustache and how what would seem goofy on another face, on him just seemed perfect.

He was new to me and I was focusing more on his cock than the other two, though I gave those guys a turn as well. This guy was handsy, rubbing my shoulders, my head, my back. Eventually his hands found their way down into the back of my shorts, grabbing my ass. He started reaching for my hole with a finger while I sucked one of the other guys off. I had never been fucked in the bathroom before, I figured it was too risky and most of the guys just wanted a quick cum anyway. But when his big hands pawed at me, I moved a bit to give him access.

"This one doesn't get fucked," the regular guy said.

"Are you sure?" the man asked, poking around my hole, "It feels like he does." And it was true, in a way. That morning I had lubed up a makeshift dildo I had created from a toothbrush travel case and fucked myself with it after a shower (something I did a lot back then) and there was still some lube around my hole.

"It's OK," I said to the room, "He can fuck me."

"Are you sure?"


I got on all fours and the man started poking his spit into my ass quickly while the regular watched. The other guy got down in front of me and he ended up shooting his load in my mouth soon after, before the business guy entered me. He stood up and watched though, instead of leaving, as his cock pressed against me and then entered. There wasn't much lube and I hadn't been dry fucked yet, so the sharp pain caused me to his and inhale quickly, but I knew better than to shout out. The man pressed forward, unrelenting, pushing me down to the floor.

My cheek was pressed to the hard tile and he propped himself up on my shoulders, pushing me down as if to push me through. He started driving in and out quickly, both of us grunting, though my grunts were tinged with pain. The regular and the other guy were giving me encouraging comments and egging the guy on, telling him to shoot in me. I felt my hard cock getting mashed to the tile and the cold pressing matched with his humping caused me to start shooting over myself and the floor. The business man came shortly after, filling me up with his load and pushing deeply in, pressing his head to my back.

He tried to pull out quickly but I grabbed him and made him move slowly. My hole was throbbing, still confused by the pain of the rough fuck but feeling a bit more used to the size. When he finally pulled out, it was a quick wash up and then he was gone, the guy who I had already swallowed following. The regular stood in front of me with his cock hard in my face. "I'd love to fuck you," he said, "But I know you're hurting."

I sucked him off and he shot a load quickly, and I swallowed it. Finally I was able to stand and pull my shorts back up correctly. My ass was hurting so I decided against waiting for more guys to come to the bathroom and just left the library.

Friday, October 7, 2011


Before I get into the gritty portion of today's blog, I know that some of you have been getting caught by your bosses or family checking my blog and other adult sites, so I have a link to the side now where you can subscribe to have my blogs sent directly to an email of your choice. Also good for keeping up to date when you're on trips and only have your phone or a hotel computer. Just another way I try to meet your needs here at Ace's Wild.

I am still wet from the shower, having only padded myself dry before laying the towel out. My chest hair is matted and darkened, and my long hair hangs in loose rings around my face. I stare at myself in the mirror, taking in each body part slowly, bit by bit. It is rare that I allow myself to openly look at my own naked form without criticizing, and I want to remember what is sexy, why I am perfect.

I lock on to my eyes, I love my eyes. They can sparkle with joy, but right now they are piercing, lust-filled orbs, deep blue like the sea. Stray hairs try to obscure my view, but I'm still drawing myself in, allowing my own eyes to seduce me gently. My gaze slips to my shoulder, to the way the bones of the collar and joint create a ridge on it. There is a slight pool of water there, and I resist the urge to brush it away. I don't want to touch just yet. Below my shoulder the hair from my pit peeks out in dense tufts, giving away exactly how much hair is in there. They are wet and curl onto my chest, my pectoral muscle, not as defined as normal thanks to lack of exercise and sickness this summer, but still a perfect form. My fur covers both of them in a soft wet brown-ish blond dusting, hiding and revealing the pale flesh below.

Then it is on to my nipples, hard and pointing out from the cold air in the room. Each nipple dangles a ring, and they wiggle with my breathing, shifting just enough to draw my gaze to the round black balls holding each one in. The nipples grow harder with my arousal, each pink nub pointing out, no longer flat because of the years of extensive play they have received. Again, I want to touch, to pinch and pull, but there is no need. As the nipple grow, even a slight breeze of the brush of my chest hair sends an electrified jolt through my entire body.

From there it is easy to follow the cascade of hair down my stomach, over the bumps that show where I once, in my days of competitive swimming, had a pronounced six-pack. The definition is gone, but the muscles are still there, though my ribs also poke through a bit from my recent weight loss. The hair closes in around my belly button, becoming tighter and a bit shorter. Rob Steed once told me that I have a perfect hair pattern, as if I trimmed it, but this is natural. I remember a swim coach from my youth telling an older swimmer she had troubles with that he needed to grown hair like mine. I am proud of my fur, though once I shaved it and thought it was ugly. I've come to see that my fur makes me attractive and again my hand wants to touch.

Instead I move my gaze to my cock and balls, surrounded by a reddish-blond forest of hair, and they are flush with the shower and my own arousal. It is not narcissism that hardens me when I look at myself, but truth. Though my cock is not yet at full mast, it is lifting its head, revealing my balls below it. The fur surrounding them splashes outward at every angle, spreading over the indentation where my hips and pelvis meet and getting lighter and sparser as it wraps around my ass and down my legs, past where the mirror can see.

Now that I have taken in my whole self, I allow my left hand to brush up my body in an arch, coming to rest atop my right nipple, gently putting pressure on it. My right hand reaches down under my balls where the heat of the shower and my own lust has already caused some sweating and some releasing of my scent. I cup my balls and rub my taint while the pressure on my nipple grows. For the first time I close my eyes and am invaded by the sensation of pleasure coursing through my body. I bring my right hand up and sniff the scent from my groin that is all me, can only be described as Ace's Scent. It is sweat, it is skin, and it has always held a bit of chlorine even though it has been years since I swam. It is also very rich and full and I can't stop my fingers from going into my mouth, not that I try. I like to taste myself as much as I like to smell myself.

When I open my eyes again I am seeing my own eyes staring back at me. The lustful look I was giving earlier has deepened into something more. Something that you can always see in the eyes of a man who is attracted to you and about to have sex with you. That mixture of lust, love, and pure power, and I am giving it all to myself. In this moment there is no other person but me. No one else's pleasure or needs or desire is important. This is the only time I can give myself exactly what I want.

My right nipple starts to hurt sweetly and I move to the left one, working it harder, quicker, to match its brother. The fingers in my mouth come out covered in saliva and I coat the right nipple before allowing that hand to grab my cock. It is so much harder now, and it jumps at my touch, eager to be a part of things. I move the loose skin back and forth, coaxing drops of pre-cum out and rubbing them over the head until it glistens. I run my nails down the length of my shaft, enjoying the nervous sense of almost pain as I scrape myself. I trust myself completely in my hands, I have been doing this long enough to have it down. Each scratch is followed by a jump from the muscles under the skin and more pre-cum oozing out. I scoop up a string of it and drip it into my mouth. Another string coats my nipples, shinning the rings, and then more for my mouth.

The pace I work my cock is increasing, and the pleasure is rising rapidly. I know I will be reaching that tipping point soon. With my right hand pumping, my left reaches down and cups my balls, pulling them, pressing my taint, a finger reaching back to stroke my hole. My pre-cum is a steady flow now and I can feel myself reaching that edge. I lock eyes with my reflection one last time as my orgasm strikes, watching the almost angry look of pleasure as I shoot, the relief of all that effort shaking every part of my body. I throb and my pulse is loud in my ears. I can see my breathless climax, my heaving and twitching, and I take joy in knowing that I was the one making the sexy body feel so good. I made it shiver at the final milking.

I stand, covered in my own cum, and look at myself again. The wetness on my body now is sweat, not water, and I can smell my sex smells wafting off my body. I start to scoop and lick up my cum, enjoying the taste and how much I have shot. I can cum multiple times, and can jerk off more than once a day, but it is rare I enjoy it so much. I love these times when I can take myself at my own leisure, seduce and clean myself up. I am exhausted, but I can't stop staring at myself. I love the body I have and the pleasure I have crafted with it. I love seeing it tired after a good working over. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, count to three, and remember the moment.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Formspring and a New Blog to Love

Before I do anything else today, I want to introduce you all to the new blog by a very good friend of mine. Those of you who also read A Breeder's Journal will recognize FelchingPisser from the steaming hot guest posts he has had there. Those of you who only read me (go give the Breeder a try, guys) might recognize him from the comments section of my blog. However, you know him, get ready to know him a lot better because he recently opened From My Side of the Sling where he plans to make us all horny and jealous of his sexual adventures. If we can scroll past that AMAZING picture of his hard cock, that is. Please, go give him some love and let him know I sent you. This is a man I hope to fuck a few asses with some day in the near future, so I would love it if you would give my friend some nice comments to welcome him to the blogosphere and let him know we aren't all crazy people. It will be totally worth your time.

Now that you've made the trip over to his blog, saved it, and promised to come back regularly (you DID, didn't you?), on to the rest of today's post: The Formspring questions. That's right, I'm doing this again. I know I don't get as many views or comments, but enough of you are interested in my answers and in the man behind that sexy picture at the top of the page, that I will keep going. As always, you can ask me more questions here or through email.

Ace, why do you keep having dreams about Meet the Breeder? I'd like to have dreams about him too, but I can't, because you're hogging him, and it's very selfish of you to keep him all locked up in your own dreams when I want him wander over to mine.

Well, I can't take all the blame for having him in my dreams. I suppose some of it has to do with the frequency with which I talk to him. He and I are very good friends on top of very good lovers, and I care for him very much. Because of that he is on my mind often, and I guess that trickles in to my dreams.

And, for a much more spiritual answer: He cares a lot about me too, and I've noticed that we often show up in the dreams of those we care for, as if we were protecting them in their sleep.

Ace, does the Breeder sleep on the left side or the right side of the bed? What would happen if you fell asleep on his side of the bed? Would he laugh it off? Or would he let you sleep there, but quietly seethe that your were snoring on his turf?

Hmm...Well, the night I spent sleeping in his bed he was on the right side, but I have no idea if that is "his side"...It may have just been the side closest to the bed-side table.

I think if I fell asleep on his side of the bed he would probably not even have a twinge of anger at me. I think instead he would pull the sheet up to keep me warm and then try not to disturb my sleep. He's a very kind, caring man.

And I don't snore.

(Edit: I found out after that apparently Rob IS very territorial, though he might not flip me off the bed. I'm not very big on sides, though, so I usually get in on the opposite of who I'm with. In my own bed I sleep in the center.)

Have you ever been to a Curandero?

Nope. I've been to an acupuncturist, but not a curandero...probably more because I haven't lived anywhere that would have a local shaman or anything like that. Plus, I tend to put more faith in modern medicine.

Have you ever pretended to be a virgin?

Oh my god, more times than I can count. I used to do it so often as a teen. So many guys just love it. I've done it recently too. I'm good at pretending I've never given a guy a blow job.

Do you think a woman is capable of raping a man if it's vaginal sex?

I can tell you without a doubt that a woman can rape a man with vaginal sex. In fact, penetration isn't required for rape. It is more of a mental thing instead of a physical thing. I am actually very much against the idea that female on male rape isn't real. Too many men suffer psychological trauma from rape and don't seek help.

Does it annoy you that the American teabaggers have taken the sexuality out of the term teabagging?

 I don't think they have. If anything, they've helped make more people in America know the sexual nature of the term. I knew what the word meant when I was 12 (from watching too many movies) and I can't tell you the number of people who came up to me after I had already realized the irony to tell me what the words was used to mean. It actually got annoying.

Which would be more of a turn off: smelly feet or bad breath?

Bad breath. Usually I can just avoid the feet.

Do you keep a secret diary that no one else reads? (online or offline)

Sort of. I used to be a lot better about keeping it, but now I just sort of haphazardly write my angst down when it comes and forget to write in my journal when it is gone. When I was younger it was a daily thing, and a little on the explicit side. I very carefully hid it from my mom so I wouldn't get caught.

i followed you on twitter we chatted now and then, i retweeted and helped get you followers, but you unfollowed me :( so all i have to say is what goes around comes around!

Huh. Cuz frankly, I don't remember unfollowing anyone recently, especially not someone I talked to. And definitely not someone who retweeted me and helped me out. Not sure what you're talking about, but you're clearly overreacting to a perceived insult I did not give either intentionally or (as far as I know) unintentionally. And calling me out on this anonymous forum instead of messaging me on Twitter to ask what happened leads me to believe that you are 1) lying and 2) someone I really don't want to talk to anyway. Have a nice day.

Have you been in love with a married man?

I have posted a blog entry about a time I fell in love with a married man and how he kind of fucked me over. You can read all about it here:

That's all for this round! Hope to get more questions and get back to posting regularly soon. I know I keep saying that, but until I get in a better spot, it just isn't going to happen. Thanks, everyone.

Saturday, October 1, 2011


This last winter was a fairly slow one for me. I got caught up in a lot of problems that stem from applying to graduate schools, like the INSANELY long essays about yourself and your likes and dislikes or the fact that they all seem to want the same thing, just in a totally different way. I had a fairly regular fuck in the form of a boy on my campus who is almost not worth mentioning. I don't mean to lessen his impact on my life, he just really didn't have any. He was one of those guys who really just doesn't understand sex too well, always trying to move into uncomfortable positions and either talking about school and homework during sex or not giving me any verbal contact at all. Obviously not the ideal person to fuck around with, but in the winter, for states that have fairly bad winters, it can be really hard to find someone to fuck with. So a lot of us get with who we can and stick out the cold months. I remember that Rob the Breeder began writing about Spencer around the time that I started pulling away from my easy fuck, and I remember wishing someone that special would appear in my life.

He did. At first I didn't realize it, but he was there. He and I had many conversations about our mutual attraction (though, initially he was more attracted to me than I to him). He was very caring and had just gotten out of a very serious relationship on his end that turned out to be a fling for the other guy. I was upfront with him about my situation. I didn't know where I was going to be once the school year was over, but there was a good chance I wouldn't stay in Ohio, even if no grad schools accepted me. I told him that I would never expect him to get serious with me because he had two kids already and I would not have him follow me out of state and leave them behind. He kept telling me it was ok, but I balked and avoided him. I said that I wasn't interested in a long term relationship at that time. And I wasn't. I was going to be leaving the state for good in May. What would have been the point of starting anything in January.

So we remained mostly friends while I continued applying to different colleges. My last due date for an application was in early February, and once that was done, I felt like I had time to breathe. My Romeo had asked about Valentine's Day, but like I had been, I said no. I didn't want a date, I didn't want a boyfriend, I just wanted to be alone. My roommate was spending the night at his girlfriend's dorm so I would have until early morning to be alone (my roommate, being a good Christian, never stayed the night). I turned on the TV and got ready for a stress-free evening.

There was a knock at my door. I walked over, not sure who it was. Most of my friends would text before coming over, so I half-assumed it was just my roommate back early after a fight with his girlfriend. But when I opened the door there was Romeo, standing there with a stuffed gorilla holding a red heart and a fake rose. "I know you don't want a boyfriend," he said, "But I would still like it if you would be my Valentine."

I melted. Here was this man, standing vulnerable outside my apartment, holding the sweetest, cheap gift anyone had ever given me. I pulled him inside and immediately began making out with him, holding him to me, happy to have a receptive body around my own. I had wanted a boyfriend, I had wanted romance. Hell, I had probably wanted a long term relationship after being single for so long. It almost hurt to let him hold me, but I loved every moment of it. He had seduced me so instantaneously that I hadn't had a chance to block it. All I knew was that we were on my couch passionately kissing and loving.

We ended up at his apartment where he made us dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread. It was delicious even though I was not super hungry having eaten a ton of chocolate before he showed up. After dinner we climbed the stairs to his room and we made love. There was no fucking or being fucked, there was just two bodies rolling around on top of each other and two men deeply in love exploring everywhere they could. He was a little chubby, but not in an unattractive way. His warmth felt good after the cold walk over, and his tongue ring clacked the inside of my teeth, sending strange shivers into my body every time. He enjoyed my hair and my nipples and could hardly keep his hands off my cock.

After what felt like hours of us rolling around together we both came to powerful orgasms, and I licked our mixed cum off his belly. In the dying minutes of Valentine's day we lay together in his bed, holding hands and looking in each other's eyes. In that moment I was very much in love with him and I knew that we would be great together. But that moment did not last, and neither did our relationship. After all, he was still looking to settle down with a man and I was on my way out. Neither of us were going to change in the coming months together. But in that moment, on that night, we were perfectly together and happier than I could remember being. The rest is a story for another day.