Sunday, August 19, 2007

Gay Sex, Redux


I spent some time at my boyfriend's, and we watched the movie, Boy Culture, a rather pathetic film about atmospheric gay hustling and domestic troubles in Seattle (and more than a little self-loathing). Considering the weather there, I'm not surprised.


Although the film is not pornographic, I was horny, and decided to hookup after leaving boyfriend. Here's where Manhunt.Net is a useful addition to the gay man's toolkit. For most of the guys on Manhunt, I'm way over the hill, but I figured I could find at least one other desperate, horny guy online. The online experience for older guys can be humiliating and disheartening, but I just tell myself to hang in there, and my luck will change.


Well, it did. And after about an hour on Manhunt, another guy emailed me, and a not so elaborate courtship began, which took about thirty minutes, then I had to go through the "cleaning process" (for those of you who are straight, you don't want to know; for those of you who are gay, you already know), and get the sin bin ready. He wanted me to host, and I wasn't going anywhere for the evening.


M turned out to be a very cute 30s hirsute Latino. His look and manner immediately appealed to me, and I think it was reciprocal (I was afraid to ask...). The glasses were a definite plus. The tank top and shorts were just right. The sandals set it all off, and he had a killer smile. I knew I was going to enjoy this.


You have to understand that it was now 11 p.m. or so, and past my bedtime (I'm an old man!). I was going to give this the old college try. The sex was really good. We both had what the other wanted. But better than the sex was the conversation afterwards. We laid there, talking about guys, about Manhunt, about hooking up, about dreams, dreams achieved, fears, and psychos. This is the moment of sex I like best, an intimacy and connection made real in the words between us. It's nothing earthshaking, although he did say I looked a lot older than my pictures (note to self, put new photos up...), but he quickly blurted, "It's okay, I like older men." I'm not sure that helped my self-esteem that much.


This guy is a power bottom, exciting swirls of hair cascading down his lower back into the cleft between his cheeks. M also knows exactly what he wants, and I'm always willing to let the other guy be a backseat driver. Half the joy of delivering to his backdoor is giving him exactly what he orders, and I'm very good at that.


One of life's mysteries is why nature has seen fit to make such a disparate ratio between tops and bottoms. If you read a guy's profile, and it says versatile, it means bottom. Bottom means bottom. Top sometimes means bottom. In the end though, tops have to do a lot of work. After three times of drilling the well, I was pretty much useless.


The evening included two catnaps, which I think add to the texture of the evening. It isn't quite like a sleepover, but it's very pleasant to snooze wrapped around another guy. I was happy the M didn't scamper out as soon as he had spilled his seed on my chest. I spilled my own seed shortly thereafter.


Finally, it is a religious experience, if somewhat devoid of faith, it certainly has hope. And whenever I thrust forward, he uttered, "Oh, God!" And whenever he descended down to my belly, his eyes rolled heavenward. I heard a few celestial tunes, too.

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