Longer-term readers of mine might recall, from a couple of months ago, an entry entitled A Fucking Rock Star, in which I was pawed, manhandled, and all but assaulted by a drunk in a gay bar who thought I was the hottest thing since a spilled cup of McDonald's coffee. (And really, I'm perfectly ready to overlook the fact that he was stinking drunk and concede that he was perfectly able to make a totally accurate judgment call on that last point.)
To save you guys the trouble of running back to read the entire encounter, I'll just remind you that his sales pitch ran roughly, I've got a wallet full of money, I've got a 1992 Benz sitting outside, and I've got a real big dick, so you are gonna get in the back seat of my car and I'm gonna fuck you underneath the underpass down the street.
I know. Irresistible, right?
Well. I thought I'd lived down the gentle humiliation of that particular evening now that my friend's blow-by-blow Facebook postings of it have faded from his immediate timeline. But there we were again this week. Same bar. Same friend. And in walks the same guy.
I winced slightly at the sight of him. "Isn't that—?" I turned to ask my buddy. But my question was already answered when I saw him fishing for his phone and firing up Facebook.
I pretended not to have noticed the man for a few minutes while he stood in line for a drink. I pretended not to hear my friend tell me every single time the guy looked my way, in the interim. And then I pretended to be oblivious when Mr. Gooddick was making a beeline in my direction, drink in hand. I was prepared for the worst, actually.
And you know what? I was pleasantly surprised to get the best, instead.
The guy was actually pretty mortified at his behavior during our previous encounter. He seemed to remember every awful thing he'd said, and he stumbled over himself in an effort to apologize. He was sincere, and very low-key, and actually very humble about the whole thing—plus he was more than a little surprised that I remembered his name.
His humility was so overpowering that all I could do is laugh, hug the guy, and tell him that of course I didn't bear any ill-will about him, or think any the less about the stuff he'd said. I told him that I was flattered he thought me fuckable, and didn't let him leave until it was clear all was well between us.
"I know you said you were taken," he said, nodding at the ring on my finger. "Your significant other must be an awfully good sport."
"Well," I drawled, with mock arrogance. I used my hand to indicate my hair, my clothes, my body, the whole Breeder package. "When you're married to a trophy stud like this, you've kind of got to be, right?"
Laughter is the cure for a whole lot of ills, I tell you.
Let's get to some questions collected from my formspring.me outings, shall we?
Have you ever had sex with a guy and you both left your shoes, boots or sneakers still on?
Oh, so many times. I love just to drop my pants around my ankles and go at it.
The daddy/son fantasy, turn on? or wrong?
If it's wrong, then about 95% of the men out there are pretty sick bastards.
Fantasy is just fantasy. In sex, fantasy is supposed to provide an element of excitement and fun. If no one's getting hurt and everyone's into the same fantasy, why question it? Just enjoy yourself.
Have you ever been someones' first? Was taking their cherry anything like when you lost yours?
I've had a lot of cherries. Some I knew about and tried to make as good as possible. Some I didn't know until afterward, when I'd find out they'd bluffed their way through because they didn't want me to think badly of them for not having bottomed before.
For most, the experience has been satisfying. I've had a couple who let their fear overtake them, and that always leads to a sore hole and a less-than-optimal fuck for the both of us.
You're on Craigslist checking out m4m adds, you are a bit horny. Some guy is in a hotel room blindfold and wanting to get fucked. When you get there you realize he's you best friend, do you fuck him? Do you let him know it's you, before or after you cum?
If he's blindfolded, obviously he doesn't want to know. Of course I'd fuck him, but he'd never hear it from me.
Favorite male celebrity you'd love to make your bottom boy? Top three?
I'm usually not attracted to the Hollywood prettyboy type—though I have had an attraction for Bradley Cooper since his 'Alias' days.
The typical male actors for which I fall are usually scruffy and have a certain hangdog expression. Jake M. Johnson of 'New Girl' is pretty much my dream beau. I get more of a crush on him every time I watch the show.
Chris D'Elia of 'Whitney' is also dreamy (and it's a shame that I find his show unwatchable).
I also have a huge crush on Andrew Lee-Potts of Primeval. I'll put his little rabbit teeth to good use.
For what celebrities do you guys have the hots?
Do you like watersports? Have you ever pissed in someone's mouth?
I do, and I have, quite often.
I won't do WS with someone on a first meeting, generally. There have been exceptions.
What is one thing that you have done sexually that makes you blush when you think about it?
There's not really any particular act of which I'm embarrassed. If you're ashamed of something, just don't do it—or learn not to be ashamed of the things you enjoy. Life is too short for that shit.
There are, however, many things I've done sexually that bring blushes to the cheeks of other people when I admit to them.
Top tips for organizing/participating in an orgy?
My first question is, are you sure you want to organize one? I know it sounds like an awesome amount of fun, but the organizer usually isn't enjoying himself as much as he thinks he will be.
Consider where you want to hold it, first of all. If it's at your home, even if you think you know and can trust the guys, you're going to have to be constantly on guard that no one's making off with your valuables. Have the party in a space in your home that's relatively blocked off and self-sufficient, to minimize people wandering off. A bedroom suite with its own bathroom and perhaps a mini-fridge or a cooler with drinks works, or a basement playroom with a bathroom.
If you're uncomfortable about having people into your home in those circumstances, consider a hotel or bathhouse orgy. You'll still have to be on guard about your personal items, but it's a good way to get your toes wet with hosting an orgy.
Think about who you'll be inviting. It's often difficult to find total tops to attend a party, so at least get a few guys who enjoy switch-hitting so that you don't have a bunch of bottoms sitting around staring at each other.
Make sure the men you invite are going to show up. Avoid inviting freaks and weirdos, or guys who are simply going to stand around, never undress, and never participate.
And most of all, it helps if you ask a very good buddy to act as your backup host, so that you can enjoy the proceedings from time to time.
After a hook-up, have you ever received the line "I think we're too different/incompatible"? Have you ever used it?
If I'd heard those words from some guys that, in my younger years, I chased after only to get a rebuff of silence, it would've been a mercy. I'd rather get the news straight out like that, than be kept on the hook and never let off except with repeated disappointment.
I've never used exactly those words when the vibe hasn't been right with someone. I have, however, said, "I don't think this is working out" and taken my leave, politely. And when a guy has been after me to see him again and I haven't wanted to, I've often told him that I didn't think we were really a good match for the other.