Guys Like Me

Paul's Story Part 3

2012-02-07T04:00:00.000-08:00

Lost in a Kiss

While Jayson is still on a break, Paul Continues his "Bridging the Gap" story. Paul writes:

This is chronologically the follow up to my Post 1, which was my first time acting out as a married man.

After meeting the guy who sucked me for an hour in his hotel room, I continued answering ads in Craigs List. I may have even put in a few of my own, but I could only meet at some guy's house or hotel room, so it was limited. I would usually combine the visits with weekend errands, catching up with work or "runs". I am a marathoner and was doing a lot of running so there was nothing strange for my family about that, and my wife is such a homebody that it wasn't a problem for her.

Although I had only used CL to meet with other men, I was having pretty good success for someone in his late 40s. I can't remember how many guys it was, no more than a dozen, before I met Ken six weeks after the first guy. During that time I mostly had my cock sucked, but pretty sure I got to suck at least a couple of cocks after a 25 year hiatus.

It was a cold crisp autumn night when I finally sealed a hook-up after a few back and forths to meet a guy about my age a 10 min run from my place. It was about 9 at night, kind of late for a run, but what the heck, this guy seemed really worth it. Ken advertised himself as "Lean for Lean" since he was tired of getting hit up by overweight guys. And he didn't disappoint. He was about my height, bald with just a wide fringe of short hair, glasses, thinner than me and a little nervous. Ken offered me to join him in a glass of wine which helped him relax.

Ken was a single gay guy with his own house in a middle-class neighborhood, but rented out the basement apt to another gay guy. Ken said he was worried that we would disturb the downstairs neighbor, which seemed kind of strange since we were just sitting there. While he was figuring out if I was some kind of axe-murderer, I just wanted to get it on. I was not picky for these hook ups - it really didn't matter to me how good looking, well-hung, or in shape the other guy was. We weren't getting married or anything....I thought Ken was OK looking - nothing great - and seemed to have a good personality. I guess I passed the conversation test and he invited me upstairs into the bedroom. Ken stood in the dark next to his bed and hugged me as I approached.

And then he kissed me as we carressed and made out still fully clothed. The first time kissing a man, or anyone other than my wife, straight on. Wow, it was powerful! It acted like a narcotic, aphrodisiac and magic spell all at once. The gentle moist feel of his lips on mine, the feel of our tongues making contact, the feel of his hand on the back of my head, all combined to carry me away on a wave of ectasy. Ken took off both of our glasses and started undressing me. He pulled my running shirt off making sure I didn't hit the ceiling fan above. I started unbuttoning his shirt. When we hugged the feeling of his skin against mine was indescribable - the hair on the back of my kneck stood up. So did other parts of my anatomy.

Eventually we were naked and I could see Ken was also hard. We took our making out to the horizontal level on the bed. It wasn't long before we were giving/receiving head and 69ing. We both came pretty soon after and it was time for me to run home.

But thinking back on that, it was the kissing I remembered - getting lost in Ken as we were making out for what seemed forever. So what did that mean for me a married guy on the down low. It was clear I liked playing with other guys, but so far they had been sucking cock and getting off. They had not included kissing and making out. They had been one-offs, not repeating with any one guy. But with Ken I had been transported to a different world

Was this the real deal, something I wanted to repeat? If so, what would I do about it?

One of the photos is of Paul and his lover Adam, the others are from a Google search on men loving men.
To leave a comment, scroll rightward past the time shown below to the comment box, and click for it to open.

Blog Comparisons

2012-02-01T11:26:00.000-08:00

Bridging the Gap

Post 4

Paul continues to be the guest blogger while Jayson is on a break:

I really love my blogs. They are what I do after dinner, much like my dad read the Daily Pilot when I was growing up. It is my way of unwinding, of having "me" time after a busy day at work. Although my favorites are political/opinion blogs, my bisexual/gay married guy blogs are in the second tier of what I read. Here are my top 3 must read, along with 3 that had been favorites a year or 2 ago. (The light blue blog titles shown are hyperlinked so you can click on them to get to the blog)

The first three blogs differ in style and substance but all are authored by married middle-aged guys with kids who hold a positive outlook on life that shines through in all they do. Not to say they are Pollyanna's or anything (that would be me sometimes) but these guys have a sense of purpose and cheer, even when they are going through hard times. So if you don't know them, take a read and if you like, start from the very beginning and get caught up on their fascinating stories. 

Guys Like Me

And I am not just putting it up here since Jayson made the kind offer to host my postings. I like Jayson's detailed and rich blogs. He has a great way with words - I love the double entendre of the title "Guys like me" and he never disappoints with his prolific writing. Jayson is a late middle-aged man who had several bisexual experiences and relationships before marriage. Now that his son has gone off to college he is re-exploring his bi side. Sometimes his postings do seem a bit lengthy but mostly they provide a thoughtful window into a man who is wrestling with the prime question of who he is and what to do about it. It has been great to watch his journey from being faithful to his wife, to messing around with guys, to finding Jake. And still he has so much to think through and offer the reader. I only hope that by hosting me, I am not shutting out his voice - Jayson has so much to share.

The second one is One Step at a Time

This Canadian guy has the best pics and seems to be doing everything so well in his life, though it hasn't been easy. I guess I relate to him so well since he is also coming out late and now going through separation and divorce. However, he is smarter than me in that he did that first before playing around with guys. It is so fun to see him experience his M2M encounters as he goes through them. His posts are just so refreshingly honest and chipper. He has developed a devoted following in a short time.

The final member of this trifecta is A Breeders Journal

Unlike the other 2 (and me), Rob had sex with men early and often. He is a great writer with a wonderful way with words. The most sexually explicit of the three his ability to get you to feel all ranges of emotions through his verbal paintings of his unique and varied sexual encounters throughout his life is powerful. Although he doesn't write much about his family relationships, I find his way of integrating his sexuality with family life is unique, refreshing and instructive. Rob's Sunday question edition is not to be missed; neither are the rest of his postings, for that matter.

All 3 are joys to read and I have become hooked. I do get quite disappointed on the rare occasions when none of them have updated.

And now for 3 of my former top favorites:

My Trip Out

used to be up there in the top tier before Richard became less frequent in posting. I so relate to his international lifestyle and having a relationship with a much younger guy. He has a great story to tell, so check him out.

Out of the Ashes

was another former favorite. Frank went through a tough separation and divorce and is now looking for Mr. Right, but has had numerous set backs. I really feel for him.

Finally, another old favorite which has been discontinued is Straight Jock Talking 2

Scott brought an inquisitive approach to the whole gay thing as a curious married jock. And talk about a large and varied readership! But he gave it all up and went out at the top of his game, like the good jock he is.

There are 2 other blogs that are right up there below the top 3. I will continue with them and the rest of my blog roll in my next posting. But in the meantime, let me know if you want to hazard a guess as to which ones they are.

all photos are from the blog Bubblicious Butts
To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and a comment box

Gay Christians: Type A and B

2012-01-30T04:00:00.000-08:00

Bridging the Gap

Post 3

"I am Paul, Christian, married for over 30 years. Divorced as of January 2012, I am focusing on my new life as a mostly out man with a younger partner. I am writing about my journey from being a married father with a good sexual relationship with my wife, to my current new life."

First things first: Thanks to you guys who are reading my postings that Jayson is hosting. I'm taking a little break from writing my history to fill in a few more blanks about me.

My partner is a few years younger than me (OK, yeah, more than 20, but who is counting...) and we had plenty of good sex this weekend. I eventually may try my hand at documenting these encounters like my host and so many other bloggers, but for now there was plenty of good stuff - him sucking my cock and me finishing myself off on his chest, me sucking his and jacking him off, me fucking him and coming in his ass; just a normal weekend in paradise.

My big news: I got a navel piercing. Who knew that a guy over 50 would have multiple piercings? A couple of years ago my partner made me a nipple piercing. That hurt a lot more getting it and took quite a while to heal completely. Just to be on the safe side I waited until after my 3-hour weekend run before he gave me the navel piercing; so far so good. I'd be glad to answer any questions since I believe if I can get these piercings, anyone can.

So I guess I will be doing a lot more navel-gazing from now on :)

OK, other news from the weekend: I hung out with a group of gay Christian guys for a few hours. About 15 of us met at the central train station and wandered out for lunch, Starbucks and seeing some of the downtown sights of our city. I had met only 3 of them before on other outings and really enjoyed getting to know them. Most were much younger than me and none had been previously married - though one couple is married to each other.

Anyway, I met them via the Gay Christian Network: The Gay Christian Network .
I highly recommend my Christian, and even ex-Christian, readers to check it out. GCN has many groups and I recently became active in the one in my area. They have many special forums on the message board to including relating to family and one for Mixed Orientation Marriages - gays/bisexuals married to straight people. They also are sensitive to the whole issue of whether we as Christians should live in a married same-sex relationship. The difference is discussed as Side A (God blesses same-sex marriages) and side B (God calls gay Christians to lifelong celibacy).

What an interesting dichotomy. I was raised to be side B, but I am now more in the side A camp. And if you were side B married guy you could just stay married to your wife; this actually is more common that you might think. In my next posting I will talk about the blogs I read, including one from the side B point of view.

Till then...

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and a comment box will open.

Paul's Story Part 2

2012-01-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

Bridging the Gap
Post 2

We continue with Paul's story in his own words:

Something Deep Down Inside

How to describe it? A fascination with the naked male body. As a horny young teen, searching through all the possible books in the suburban downtown library a few blocks from my house. Pictures of naked men exercising, gay coming out stories, scientific studies of homosexuality – but no conception of what it looked like in the real world outside of books.

Yet all the while knowing that kind of life wasn't for me. It was unspoken, but firm understanding that those impulses were wrong. Not so much from sermons preached at church or Sunday school lessons or youth group meetings, but from many other sources various yet unspecified sources.

One time at a pre-teen Christian summer camp, a younger guy cornered me in the cabin when no one was around. He lay on top of me on the bunk and started talking dirty to me. I had kept to myself not knowing anyone at the camp, but he must have noticed something different in me and wanted to ....well, I don't know. A camp counselor came along and separated us.

But I really didn't know what I was looking for. I imagined men when I jacked off on the corner of the rug in my room. I stole glances at the older guys in the high school locker room at PE. I wanted someone with a hairy masculine body, especially big hairy chest - yes that was my ideal. I even drew it once in a journal, only to white it out later.

I went off to college half a continent away. Once I was cruised by a guy in his 20s or 30s with a huge cock in the bathroom basement of a class building on campus. I was interested, but didn't know what to do, and left. In my first few months at university, I met a girl. My first girlfriend who became my wife. I was her first too. We made out but no sex before marriage. But a year before marriage something happened.

While hitchhiking a long stretch on the freeway in the rain, a guy backed up in reverse after passing me by - what did he see up close - something in my eyes that gave me away? The middle-aged man, easily twice my 20 years of age, encouraged me to take off my wet pants which I resisted at first. He kind of watched at the urinals at a rest stop.

As we continued the trip, he reached over touched my leg, and eventually found his way into my underwear. My dick got hard easily and he was quickly able to bring me to orgasm - not what he expected so soon. But he wanted more so we stopped to stay at a hotel. We had sex for the rest of the evening with a break for dinner for him - I was too nervous/excited to eat. The next morning he acted as if the previous night's sex hadn't happened and dropped me off where I could catch my next ride.

And that was that - no sex with another man until 26 years later with the guy described in Acting Out.

By the way, the double blow job I got from him was great. But it wasn't that the sex was so much better than with my wife – it was feeling appreciated and not taken for granted. It was being wanted and hungered after sexually by another man. I loved my wife and was in to the sex with her - it was just so comfortable and natural, to know her and to be able to snuggle up and caress her and fall asleep after sex with her.

So how could I cheat on her? A combination of things - with the kids grown up I noticed how apart we had grown. She had increasing medical complaints and was more focused on her little world of her and the house. I had over the years shared less of my feelings and self with her. I have always been emotionally autistic, but the sense of separateness grew. Plus resentments arose on my part. I felt I had to walk on eggshells around her many times and often ended up apologizing to keep the peace. I got tired of saying "sorry" for every little thing as if they were all my fault. I was codependent in an odd way with her and needed to break out of that. So despite knowing this went against the Bible, I almost felt justified looking for sex with men - kind of as an immature way of getting back at her; at least it wasn't with a woman, I rationalized.

And the post-orgasmic guilt I felt lasted less each time as my compartmentalization grew...

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and a comment box will open

Jack Scott's Post on Honesty

2012-01-22T22:54:00.000-08:00

The Bisexual: From Another Planet

Jack Scott wrote a fine post three days ago that has generated lengthy, thoughtful, and provocative comments. Jack shared his own experience in coming out to his wife, and also his position that Bisexual married men may need to withhold part or all of the truth of their sexuality from their wives, and to paraphrase him, this "dishonesty" has an "honest" purpose. Here is the link to that blog - Jack Scott's Blog on "Bisexual Men and Honesty"
Here is my response to his post with an added concluding sentence:
Comment to Jack

Jack, this post of yours has clearly triggered one of the most significant outpourings of thoughtful discussion about the Bisexual's Dilemma that I have seen in my almost two years of blog reading and writing. You have articulated from your own personal, deeply thoughtful and sometimes painful evolution what you feel was ultimately right for you and your wife. It took many years, but you finally disclosed a part of who you were to her, and your marriage survived.

Just having someone you loved that much, with whom you had a robust sexual relationship forever, now seeing you in a different way and having to adjust to was clearly one of your life's most difficult moments. But the two of you came through that, and this affirms there was a strong underlying love there that could withstand such a revelation.

Yet you also say, powerful as that love is, and now open about that lifelong secret as you were from that moment on, you still do not share the details and particulars of the sexual times you have had with your men.

That makes sense, as the images of having someone we share our bodies and souls with having that kind of passion with someone else can be very disturbing. Are you protecting her? Yes, but I do not think this is "paternal". You have judged that the disturbance that "total honesty" can cause was likely harmful. And you did this out of love for her, not just to preserve the institution of marriage.

Perhaps the dilemma for us men in similar situations is that we first could imagine, and then have experienced, that our inherent makeup and wiring allows us to have sexual intimacy with more than one person and we do not experience the need or desire to elevate one of those experiences above the other, or negate one of those lovers to appreciate the other. One cannot be truly bisexual, or pansexual, if you do not have the capacity and ability to share intimacy like that. The studies show that for a variety of mostly acculturated reasons, a much higher percentage of women than men can only imagine and embrace loyal monogamy as equivalent to enduring love.

According to the book "Sex at Dawn", both women and men in our early evolutionary stages pursued and enjoyed multiple sexual partners throughout adult life, even while bonding with one primary mate for the critically important function of primary child rearing and food sharing. The evolution of the nuclear family, which competes for food and money and power with other families, and the demise of communitarian modes of living, by no coincidence brought forth strictures for women in particular to mate with one man for life. This exclusive monogamy model was set up to be certain of the heritage of the children and the transference of knowledge, wealth, and values to them.

How we evolved cannot be undone, but the truth is that it is NOT inherent in human nature that we emotionally need to mate for life in heterosexual couples, and that sexual activity with other adults threatens the sanctity of the family. The deep anxieties that come out of the news to a woman that her husband is interested in, or involved with, men is a deeply learned response.

The true bisexual is asking a mate, and society, to accept a way of being that is counter to all we learn about the primacy of one type of adult human intimacy over all others. Jealousy, anger, fear of ultimate rejection, are all totally natural and expected outcomes when a man reveals his need for, or indulgence in, sexual intimacy with another person. That person being a man instead of another woman adds other layers of "projected outcomes"...he is really gay and finds me unattractive as a woman, he is going to ditch me for the new exotic love, he does not make me and our family and friends sufficiently satisfying a life so this is a dismissal of all I (the wife) stand for.

Why would any woman NOT have this kind of reaction? And more than asking permission to have sexual intimacy with a man (audacious enough, right?), the bisexual man is asking for understanding and acceptance that pursuit of sex with men IN NO WAY diminishes her love, her importance, her place, her future. If she cannot imagine or grasp that an adult human being can in fact share naked intimacy and emotional intensity and passion with more than one person at a time, then acceptance of her man's bisexuality is not going to happen.

If the pop psych. idea of "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars" provides some truth about our gender differences, then the Bisexual's Dilemma is the greatest test of that planetary misalignment.

Jack, if anyone could write the book to explain this better, it would be you. Perhaps it could be titled, "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars, and Bisexuals are from a Pre-Dawn Earth". And I would argue that the connection between Bisexuals and Pansexuals is very close.

One vexing truth is that human sexuality is fluid and situational, more than we want to admit. According to some research, the Bisexual is particularly a "type" that may over their life and in response to certain events or opportunities find that their primary sexual and emotional thrill shifts. This may explain why so many married men begin feeling those "gay" impulses having once had what they thought to be satisfying marriages. They were always latent bisexuals, if not latent gays. And for a significant number of bisexuals for a variety of reasons, the trajectory is toward more homosexual urges and fantasies as one ages.

Bisexuality in Jack Scott's case seems to have been a steady state. But for many men, they are trying to also figure out if in fact this is a major shift to being predominantly gay - which is what I an grappling with.

I think it is not shame that keeps us from talking to our wives. It is much of what Jack already said, but for many of us we are also, in mid life or later, shaken to know we do not really know what our ultimate needs are after all. And until that is certain and we are "resolved" about who we are and what we need, opening up a conversation about our sexual fantasies in the moment is going to expose something perhaps even more alarming than sharing with one's wife that you are a bisexual. That would be sharing with her that you know you have strong attractions to men, but you honestly do not know where that will go.

And with that uncertainty revealed, what woman would feel a secure basis for trying to adapt? And with that blunt an “honest” revelation that suggests the man wants the security of a marriage with additional outside relationship flexibility and indeterminism, it is no wonder that 5 of 6 marriages where the man presents that scenario, the marriage ends.

For those bisexual, or gay, men who feel they derive a lot of meaning from a marriage, and love their wives in some way that transcends sexuality, the question of whether and how to keep the marriage is a lot more difficult than for those for whom the marriage is shaky. We want what seems right for ourselves, but know that at some level it will be seen as a wrong against the marriage vows. And each man has to find out how to resolve this question of being “true to oneself” while also being true to her, on his own.

We will return to the story of Paul later this week.
All photos are from the blog: SickoRicko'sCrap
To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and a comment box will open.

Acting Out, by Paul

2012-01-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

Bridging the Gap Series:

Post 1

This post is entirely devoted to my guest co-blogger Paul's first installment of his own story. Paul will also be providing replies to reader comments on this post. Here it is in Paul's own words:

Acting Out, by Paul

So here I was - walking through the hotel lobby in my running clothes on a Sunday afternoon in the fall. As I walked towards the elevators, I imagined that the hotel employees knew why I was going upstairs.

I finally was going to meet a man for sex. I told my family I was going out for a run.

He was a little older, heavier than me, married too. Not very good looking, but he wanted my cock. In fact he said he wanted to suck on it for a long time with nothing in return. Hmmm. OK, if you say so. This would be my first time going to a man's room for sex....

What did I want? Surely not just a blow job. Well, yes, I did want one. My wife would suck my cock for a little bit sometimes when we made love, but never long enough to let me come. She always wanted to take it into her moist pussy. And that was good for me - I loved fucking her and would come pretty quick. But I wanted a man to lick my dick, to nurse on it and to take my cum in his mouth.

And why after all these years of marriage, of being a faithful husband, was I doing this? The sex was great with her and it seemed frequent enough. Of course it was down from the several times a day as newlyweds but after 2 kids and 25 years of marriage, every few days was good enough.

Was I subconsciously trying to get back at her for being mean or petty with me? Was I not able to find a more appropriate response due to my low emotional IQ?

And what about my religious beliefs and family upbringing? Homosexuality is wrong and thou shalt not committ adultery. Well I was about to condemn myself on both counts.

So I got in the room, dropped trou and he went to work on my cock. You could tell it was something he really wanted to do. My cock - it was nothing big - but he loved it. I came in about 10 minutes but he did not let off. He let me get through the sensitive phase by just letting it rest in his mouth and then continued to work it again. Of course, I got hard again and came 20 or 30 minutes later. Amazingly, he continued to suck my cock and although it got hard, I wasn't able to come before his jaw started hurting. It had been more than an hour and I left.

I was sure the hotel employees knew what happened as I crossed the lobby.

I got home from my "run" and the family could have cared less.

All photos are from the blog "Cocks and Asses and Only", see link to this blog on the right. To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the date shown below for a comment box.

Paul's Story Begins

2012-01-17T04:00:00.000-08:00

Bridging the Gap

It is spectacularly sunny and warm, day after unrelenting day, in my part of paradise. In a wind sheltered cove as I walked a beach today, I was convinced around the next outcrop where summertime brings the nude sun bathers, I would find one daring guy to gawk at. But I was walking with my wife, I had to keep the glances I gave a few great looking guys at the cafe on the promenade hidden behind dark glasses. I would certainly have to be nonchalant if we chanced on a naked man, which we did not. This is a new year, and in many ways the relationship with the wife is better than it has been in a while, but my sexual attention is still mostly aimed at men.

I just try to enjoy the aesthetics of this strolling out in public and checking out a few guys without feeling nuts. I must still have a few bisexual leanings as the heaving breasts of a woman at dinner last night were so compelling it took my eyes completely off the Caravaggio looking Italian waiter with the thick black hair, 3 day beard growth, piercing dark eyes, and narrow hips. At least I was diverted several times, though the truth is the waiter got the last look of the night.

So far, I am savoring the world which seems so beautiful around me, and the passion of three nights out of five last week with Jake. I have to just smile and appreciate how good life can feel sometimes, even for a perpetual searcher and seeker. The gap between my interior life, and the world around me, sometimes can feel enormous, but on some days the gap disappears and I can almost imagine being able to integrate all these disparate parts of my life and manage to feel whole, and fully engaged with those around me I care about.

Let's see how long I can hold onto that ideal.

In this new year, I had been thinking of what to do next with the blog, in order to wind down all the hours of writing, but keeping this blog still relevant and regular. I have a big career move to plan the details for, a house to finally complete in order to put it on the market, and a real need to keep the relationship with Jake active.

As if some reader had been reading these thoughts, a new reader “Paul”, not to be confused with a regular commenter by the same name, wrote to me last week eager to share his story with others. His chronicle goes further forward than mine, as his path through a marriage longer than my own ended in finally coming out, separating from his wife, and beginning a new life as a still-not-quite-out gay man with a lover.

He wanted to learn how to blog and share his story, and I felt like he represents one of the legitimate paths I might be going down myself. How about sharing my blog with me, I suggested? And with appreciated enthusiasm and an interest in maybe a weekly post, Paul agreed to a fledgling partnership.

Mergers seem to be in the air – I discussed this with Paul and the very day we agreed to proceed, Bi Like Me announced he is turning his blog over every Friday to a younger guest author.

Paul comes from a faith background, and while I am not into any kind of formal religion, it has struck me how much I find the writings of men of faith like Jack Scott compelling, and reassuringly compassionate. Most recently Rob of Bi Married Mafia wrote of his unexpected emotional catharsis meeting a man in a GLBT church and having complex emotions unlocked by the rituals and music and hush and reverence that he experienced. This was not in a parentally forced repressive church, but in the company of a community of people who espoused faith AND the freedom to have intimate relations with a member of one’s own gender as compatible. Not just compatible, but full of divine grace.

There is a very critical component some call spiritual to this quest for self acceptance, acceptance by others, being welcomed into a community who shares your values, and being able to pursue love and fulfillment with great comfort and joy. And Paul suggested that his brand of Christianity is not so represented by other bloggers yet. I have always seen myself as an agent for expanding the dialogue among our disparate bi/gay married community, and welcoming diverse viewpoints from the brotherhood of guys like me. So here was a chance to try putting some of that camaraderie into practice.

Paul and I set up very few ground rules – he is free to write whatever he wants, I will not edit and just get it up in the blogsphere as he sends it to me, and for the first posts I will choose a couple of pictures that I think go with his themes. He thinks he may want to generate one or two short posts a week. We will see how that plays itself out but I want to give him a place to express himself, and anyone else who want the pulpit from time to time as well.

So here is Paul’s first post, straight out of an e-mail with proposed text he sent me last week. Welcome Paul, you are a man who dared to make the huge life change, and I am eager to hear how you got to that momentous turning point, and where you are going next. You chose to call your blog column “Bridging the Gap” referring to the uneasy relationship between sexuality and spirituality that characterized much of your personal search.

It takes on another meaning, as by writing side by side, you are helping Bridge the Gap between those of us still secretively pursuing our sexual relationships with men inside a marriage, and those who have ended the marriage yet still have that long legacy of a traditional heterosexual family life behind, and are attempting to create a new life as a gay man. And Paul made one irreversible leap across the gap in legal terms just 7 days ago.

Bridging the Gap, by Paul

My Background

Despite being divorced and living with my partner, I am still not "out" in my mind, I still deal with guilt, I still have a lot of ground to cover to reconcile my past with my present. And like you I want to provide a unique voice out there in the blogosphere. I see many LDS with their married bi/gay blogs, but not so many from my brand of Christianity.

D-Day

My divorce was finalized a week ago, on January 10, 2012 The end of a 30+ year marriage is a big deal. But I will write about that later.

D-Day is also decision day. Now that I am divorced, I feel free to write about my struggles, to help bridge the gap between my spiritual and sexual sides, to understand what I did, to provide insight to others on the same path. There are many other men out there who were like me – trying to be good husbands and fathers while resolving their desire for other men with their religion or ethical beliefs.

So why am I blogging? Partly to untangle my thoughts of me being attracted to other men (SSA, gay, homosexual, bisexual, what have you) as being a choice or an option, and therefore a sin and immoral. I want to explore why I did not choose the celibate way of simply staying married to my wife and not acting out my same sex desires. I don't want to simply justify my decision or beat up on myself for making a wrong choice. But I want to understand what I did and the ramifications my choices had on me, my partner, my wife, kids, family and friends. And to be an example or source of info to others on the same path, whether they are the married guy, his wife, his kids, his lover/partner, friends or family.  

How will I blog? I plan to talk of a variety of things - explicit sex, spiritual aspirations, religious doctrines, personal upbringing - and connect with a wide variety of blogs. Now I am unsure of the blogging format - it has lasted well over 10 years but who is to say it will go the way of the bulletin board soon...

And talk about the contradictions - a married guy who loved sex with his wife for 29 years, but in defiance to his purported values continued meeting up with other guys for 3 years. A socially and psychologically straight guy, now divorced and living with a male partner. He’s not really bisexual, but can't bring himself to call himself "gay". He still isn't sure of his identity and how this reconciles with the religious beliefs he was raised with, and in many ways he doesn't really know what he thinks now.

So welcome on board!  

About Me:

I am a man in his 50s who was married for over 30 years to a straight woman, now living with my male partner. I am still trying to bridge the gap between my religious beliefs and my current circumstances, and to integrate these opposing dimensions.  

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below, and a comment box will open. All photos on this post are from the site Bubblicious Butts, authored by Joe Blow. I have cropped some of the photos for this post.

Can Passion Trump Orgasm?

2012-01-11T09:31:00.000-08:00

Jake Stuns Me

I haven’t written about sex in a while. My mind is full of thoughts about this period of transition, what the holiday revealed about my relationship with my wife, and all the work crap I have to finish to make the big job change this summer. I am preoccupied with some thinking, but at least not also overworking. I am circling around this unavoidable question of, am I bisexual or all gay? And either way, is my best path forward one of continued secrecy with all its associated problems, or coming out to my wife with all its anticipated consequences.

Once again this got to be a big topic of my phone call to Jake last night – which included some strongly expressed opinions on his side about whether there really is a condition of “bisexuality”, or whether a lot of grown married men who in today’s more open culture might have come out as gay in their teens, are carrying out a “bisexual” existence with men on the side to preserve their facades. We got into a verbal exchange that bordered on a fight, not in a bad way, but infused with opinions and observations of men’s behavior around us. This dialogue erupts in some form triggered by something I say often, and this time it came out of our talk about films with LGBT themes we would like to watch together, and my disclosing how watching some of them a few years back set off almost panic in me when I related to a married male character that began sex with men.

But this whole topic deserves its own post, and the real story about Jake and me I want to focus on is our recent reconnection after the longest break in contact we have had since we started our affair.

Jake and I have now seen one another twice since our holiday three-week separation. Between his nine-hour jet lag after a six thousand mile trip the first night, and my having slept terribly the night before his visit with me, our major impulses were more about passionate kissing and long embraces, and getting to sleep early. This is not to say there was no sexual thrill there. On night one we both woke up about 4 in the morning, and he was so hot and hard I could not help springing down on his magnificent uncut cock and sucking him to an enormous blast. The presence of a new upstairs tenant above his bedroom added a new twist to the love making, as he had to exert huge self-control to stifle his normal loud screams and deep groans.

The next morning we got a lazy start despite my initial pledge to get on the road to make a good early showing at my office. Leaving almost two hours later than intended allowed us to cuddle and talk and linger and continue our talk about our holiday experiences. With less than 5 minutes before my absolute deadline to leave for a mid morning conference, we felt this rush of sexual intensity and were rolling on the floor together famished for one another’s bodies. He took the assertive role quickly, commanding me to lean back squatting on the floor as he stood over me stroking his throbbing cock to a body rattling orgasm. Rope after rope of cum shot all over my chest and oozed down from my nipples to my pubes.

Fuck, we can get so heated up without advance warning. At my house on Monday, while we were snuggled up watching a movie and downing our dinner drinks, the occasional kissing started to trigger something in each of us simultaneously. Within minutes we had lunged at one another, ripped one another’s clothes off, and were smashing our heated up wet lips and tongues all over one another’s bodies. Sweating like wrestlers on the bare hardwood floor, I pressed him down overcome by animal surges of passion. From some inner locked up place loud cries of astonishment hit the air and drowned out the loud sound track on the screen.

This has never happened to me, either with a man or a woman, this kind of rapid, intense, all consuming body lust and overflowing passion that takes my breath away. And these moments are not just a prelude to great genital or anal sex. Some nights, like Tuesday, we race to the bedroom for hours of prolonged kissing and building up of feeling and fondling that goes on and on…. and that becomes the real focus of our sexual adventure.

For the first time in the history of our relationship on Tuesday, neither of us actually came to full orgasm. We traversed back and forth from sizzling sex to gentle body rubbing and almost shy and tender kisses. And locked together in a final spooning position, the last embrace took us quickly into sleep-deprived recovery. And two hours after the surge that started on the sofa, no jizz had exploded from either of us.

Yet I would mark Tuesday as one of the most memorable sexual experiences I have had. What was so amazing was the depth of feeling and the several cycles of build up and electrification. We feel comfortable making love without having to make orgasm as the ultimate achievement. Lovemaking is so much more than just cum making.

I have worried less about those times I seem to get so close but not cum, as the frequency of my orgasms with him is now about every other visit and they are so extraordinary. It is hard to describe how his masterful sucking and stroking of my cock and massaging my ass and legs and stomach and gently squeezing my balls gets me so hard and so awash with total sexual pleasure that I just want that to go on forever….and not cumming after what seems like hours of intense sex with Jake beats most of the climaxes I have had with many other lovers. And it is scary to consider it certainly beats the sex I can remember having with my wife with some wonderful exceptions.

I head down to see him again on Thursday, and this resumes our normal pattern of being together two nights a week. We are still reconnecting but at least by this third date since the holidays, sleepiness will not dominate the experience. But perhaps the leather chaps I bought on total impulse before Christmas, which we keep at his place, plus our mutual interest in getting back to some topping and bottoming positions again, will shape the experience. But then, let's just see where the passion takes us this time.

I will leave that revelation of new playthings for the older guy out there as a teaser. I have to say we both look great wearing that leather. While neither of us is a Folsom Street Fair macho type, it turns out there is something very sexy and erotic about a man’s body wearing some leather things even for those of us who never had leather fantasies or watched leather porn. And trying new things so far has amplified the sex, but not taken away from the core passion that really must be there first to drive it.

If I had to describe this unanticpated way we connect sexually, I guess I would say simply, it is stunning. He stuns me. He is stunning.

Jake, I hope you understand how very different our relationship is from what I had expected when I began having sex with men a year ago. I expected to have orgasms. I expected to experiment with new positions. And I soon learned that kissing and embracing was a powerful wonderful part of the sexual build up and so much more essential than I realized.

But I did not expect those moments we have when we each feel so stunned - to be overtaken by that all consuming passionate forcefield that feels as if our two separate bodies had defied physics and were now merged into one superheated throbbing swirl of pure emotional release. And it happens with no warning and requires no triggering devices.

I did not expect to be stunned. I did not expect that the moments of being stunned without orgasm would match or even overshadow the stunning climaxes we also have. And if I had to choose between the two ways you stun me, after Tuesday night I can see this choice: Illogical as it might be for a guy who started this journey searching for the ultimate orgasmic experience with a man, I might pick the other kind. I might pick the shuddering gasping all body and soul passionate mergers, over the seismic registering massive ejaculations you bring on in me. Because sometimes, as you have taught me, Passion trumps Orgasm.

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and a comment box will open

Attempted Connections

2011-12-30T13:35:00.000-08:00

Seeking Satisfaction and Hope
Warning - this is a really long post, a kind of year end wrapup shaped by two weeks of unusual solo time to wander about in my head and in my town. I could not find a good place to chop it into separate posts. So I gave it four section titles

1. Connecting to the World

I have had a lot of free day time over the holidays, perhaps too much time, to wander about and reflect. After the usual people-packed events of Christmas, my wife had to go back to work, while I booked a two week series of half-work days. I took my laptop to local cafes to do office work, then wrote or drew or wandered about, a solo tourist in my own bustling town. It evolved to be a taste of what it might be like being single in a place I have been married for over 25 years.

I did not set out to have it be like that, but realized soon that these afternoons filled with all kinds of potential human interaction while being solo in public places were so rare as a married family man. It made me think back to my single life before marriage, as well as made me wonder, if I really did conclude that our marriage simply could not last, what it might feel like to be single and free.

It is a mixed feeling, that being alone and watching others whose lives you imagine being so much more resolved sometimes. Mostly one sees younger people out there during midday, but it was encouraging to see the numbers of middle aged and older men out like me. There must be a lot of people whose work hours are not regular, or live on trust funds, or just use coffee houses as mobile offices.

I found myself having the full range of emotional response to these two weeks of simulating single life as a guy way over 30 in the big city. At its worst, I projected a life of being lonely and compulsively looking for friendship as well as sexual liaisons in a world full of younger, attractive, vivacious men.

At its best, such as when striking up a conversation with a younger guy who had just returned from Paris and was brimming over with eagerness to share tales of travel, it made me feel terrific to break out of my own isolation and meet someone new. He had paused after getting up from his café chair at my table, pulled out his cell phone, and asked if he could take a picture of the sketch I had done of him. It caught me off guard, as I thought I had been very surreptitious in doing the drawing, and had moved on to write some things and not noticed his coming over.

He liked the sketch and I explained I did some drawing for my living and the conversation just took off from there. By the end of what became a pretty long and winding dialogue on all matter of things, he offered me his business card. I took that as a good indication he had enjoyed our interaction and maybe even felt some kind of attraction there. He had the most incredible dark eyebrows, dark Italianate eyes and thick wavy black hair, framing a flawless youthful face.

All the while he stood talking to me as I remained seated, it was hard not to stare at his handsome visage, and take in his very lean young form. He had been a competitive swimmer in high school and we talked briefly about the nearby renovated indoor public pool, where once I had done regular swimming, but then that was probably before he was even born.

This was a warm human encounter with a stranger, and left me feeling I could do this, I could meet new people and form new relationships and even if it is not about a dramatic end to my long marriage, I just have to break out of the static quality of my current life and might be able to pull it off.

If I were not involved with Jake, this is the kind of encounter with a man that I would likely take as an invitation to make that call back, propose some reason to meet for coffee or a glass of wine, and begin a more intentional act of seduction. And maybe it would just lead to a friendship between two men who love travel and feel great swimming and while perhaps both of us are into men sexually, we find what we value or want from one another is companionship, not sex.

It gave me hope, as fleeting and inconsequential as it was, that one can meet other men and form relationships in public places and they might take many different forms. It was about an open rather than a closed feeling of the possibilities of the future.

Against the backdrop of some good days out sketching and writing and talking to a few people, I know my secret bisexual, or gay, existence is a huge impediment to my feeling totally connected to my existing friends, not just to my wife, and that gets rubbed in painfully over the holidays. There were some good moments which were in large part because I worked very hard to fight my alienation tendency and to make connections and value my circle of buddies and social friends.

But it does take work, very conscious work, to draw myself out of my own internal world and into theirs when so much of what we talk about is what is going on in our lives, and the biggest thing going on for me, my passionate involvement with Jake, is taboo subject matter.

2. Connecting to a Friend

I spent one afternoon with a friend from our guys group who managed a lifetime career in music and theater arts, and found myself wondering as I drove over to meet him for lunch, could I tell him, and could I trust him to keep this all secret between us. He is one of only two men I know in my circle of guy friends I might even make indirect comments to, but this is still not the time and I am very unclear where this is all going anyway.

The conversation was a lot more about what he has been through lately, a serious set of diseases from which he is finally recovered, but that shook him up and left him feeling a whole lot older and out of shape than he would like. Spontaneously after lunch, he suggested, “Hey man, how about heading over for some healthy sweating in a steam room?” It turned out he meant, head over to his gym and spend some time in the sauna, steam room, and Jacuzzi on a cold gray day and keep the buddy time going. Of course being a long married straight guy, he likely has no idea that there are a couple of gay bathhouses within a few miles of where we were, and I am sure they were getting some midday action from men ducking out of their offices early.

So we did hit his gym, and spent almost an hour leisurely taking in the capacious steam room and sauna, and then the hot tub which was on an elevated perch at a strategic very open alcove between the shower stalls and the locker room. The gym designer had created the perfect cruising platform where the available seats for my friend and me put us in the prime view seats. I was conscious of working hard not to have him catch me gazing at a few of the great looking bodies that strutted toward and around the Jacuzzi. It was even more difficult not to stare over at the two men who joined us in the swirling hot water who were hung like porn stars.

Was he oblivious to all this, as he talked on about one of the consequences of his prostate operation was he no longer got hardons looking at buxom or gorgeous woman all the time? Or was that a macho way of not acknowledging the looks being exchanged around the locker room?

“I have to use Cialis now with my wife, and that works fine, and the goods are still functioning well. So in some ways this was a blessing, as I spent a lot of my married life resisting the turn-ons I got from women and feeling that genital alert signal many times a day. I feel calmer, and my wife is my only real focus now”.

And he captured exactly what I was feeling at that very moment. There was that slight tingle down there as I was in the gym, the heightened sense of being a sexual animal as evidenced by the tension in the body and the darts of eyes when out in public and around men who exude a certain quality. And these constant bombardments of male erotic poses do for me what strolling women did for him, and does for most straight guys, turns us on and competes with sexual urges toward the wife.

We headed out for a drink at a local bar after the gym, each of us sharing how important getting to the gym a few days a week has become as we have gotten older and need to put more regular energy into staying fit and healthy. It also calms you down and lets you sleep better, which is true for me as the longer term effects are much more the draw for me than just the chance to be naked among other men.

I had started the morning feeling lightly blue about the failure to connect to some people over the holiday, and the real me trapped inside the conventional married man role. I ended the day feeling terrific about my time with a buddy, even though I did not divulge myself, and the unintentional bonding we had acknowledging we men get erotic hits all the time. All this left me thinking more about how during the course of a day, or the arc of a social event, I can go through such a wide range of emotions and feelings. The unusual free time I took this holiday forced me not to bury myself in work and household obligations entirely, gave me hundreds of hours of unscripted time, and left me freer to let those feelings flow. And it made me circle back to that theme of dissatisfaction.

Underneath it all, when I am away from Jake, I am aware of a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction that has been there a long time, and I know is primarily there because I do not show my true self to others, and am bottled up. So when I step back and reflect about my life, career, family, friends, and hobbies, It all doesn't add up to total satisfaction and still just can’t make me feel complete.

3. Connecting to Archtypes

Being a middle aged married man, especially with children beyond the dependency ages, brings its own tendencies to restlessness and doubt and even crises over what does it all mean. I am drawn to novels about men grappling with all this, and find I relate strongly to male characters who find themselves alienated from their social set or trapped in banal marriages or frozen in a career point. Dissatisfaction has lots of sources, and some are things we can control, or try to put in a more realistic perspective.

The middle age searching man, like the protagonist in John Updike’s “Rabbit is Rich”, written when Updike was 48, is not entirely a sympathetic figure. Updike’s guy started off a marriage with some doubts, has an early affair in the first novel of the 4 part “Rabbit” series, and has daily bouts of looking around and saying his life is actually quite rich, then skidding into doldrums and tantrum around all the limits of his life, including the nature of his marriage.

I started the series with "Rabbit Run" and have not finished this third book in the Rabbit Angstrom, series, which in its days got major prizes and stirred up great controversy as it exposed an ugly side to post war, suburban American adulthood. Plus the work is admittedly not kind to women, and attracted strong repulsion from feminists.

Updike is an astoundingly good writer who captures the disconnect between the interior monologues and contradictory hopes and fears of a middle aged, fairly unconscious but representative American man. Rabbit the high school basketball hero become used car salesman, is the poster child of the Mad Man era dissatisfied man. While I feel worlds apart in terms of many qualities of Rabbit Angstrom's life and world, I wince with constant recognition at some of his frustrating alone-time thoughts and barely concealed social anomie. For many different reasons, but with similar corrosive effect, we are both alienated from conventional monogomous mainstream male culture.

Richard Russo wrote “Straight Man” a generation later, when he was also 48, and his hero has a more kind way of coming to terms with being now middle aged, and accepting the limits he himself put up around his academic life in a mediocre institution. The title has nothing to do with sexual orientation, albeit all the characters are robustly heterosexual. While Updike is in my opinion a much better writer, revealing the complex irresolutions of adult life and aluding to the decay at the center of many marriages, Russo offers more humane hope for the dissatisfied.

One night drinking with an old buddy they discuss what the magic percentage of “Like” over “Dislike” one needs to have for a spouse to feel yes, this is really a valuable marriage, and I will not get tempted to have an affair or jeopardize this relationship – because no relationship is 100% great, and we all need to settle for some imperfections in one another.

They settle for a 60% satisfaction score as the minimum basis for marital satisfaction and loyalty. Russo’s hero realizes that he has feelings for his wife that are higher than that average, and they really are a high scoring 75% or more on the satisfaction scale. So he begins to value what he has more just from that one conversation.

And the buddies also talk about getting to the middle years when you are no longer making yourself, and building a fresh new career, and youthfully at the center of your own infinitely expanding universe of possibilities.

You accept what you have, the author through his major characters concludes, as decent and good because it is what you have yourself made, and need to take modest but real pleasure in it, “with grace”. This is not a religious idea of grace, but a humanistic one that acknowledges with both gratitude and good humor the foibles and unrealized pieces that are part of even the best life.

This idea of grace is not resignation, at least as I recall from a book I read a year ago, but a real deep appreciation that somehow, in some maybe unconscious way, we have made most of what we are as an adult by our mid 40’s and now the developmental task is to keep it rich and robust and savor the good of it.

As I mulled over in my post a few weeks ago, I have come back to a similar theme of what control we have over feeling positive about our existence. This comes after a strange week of ups and downs, including some restless nights and constrained holiday days of wondering, can I keep doing this marriage thing and make it better, or is it fated to fail and I am too cowardly to leave. The marriage does not change dramatically in the course of a day, but my feelings about it sure can swing wildly.

I guess it is in my power to see my life as good or not, to see my marriage as valuable or not, and to chart some course forward that is based ultimately on the positive aspects of my life, and a hopeful view of the future.

The existentialist in me can relate to the world of John Updike's frustrated middle aged guys, but the choices he gives them are bleak. The positivist in me seeks the compassionate self acceptance of Russo, but free of his sentimentality and somehow able to accept outside affairs and bisexual or gay sexuality with grace too. Or at least accept this as a possible stage many otherwise good men go through.

4. Connecting to My Own Future

I try to fight back the negative feelings, and to become more centered and find regular daily rituals to bring some meaning and joy into my life. This year I have to put even more effort into that. It will be a year of bigger than normal changes, a shift to working part time by my wife, and a move within the same company from my current small town outpost back to the Bay Area.

I have this sweet twilight period now that may go to July or August of still having my weekdays alone and away from my wife, and then the wonderful freedom to be with Jake for overnights on a regular basis will have to end.

I cannot fathom that ending, and want to ignore its approach, but each day of this New Year will require me to invest time in making the big move and doing something with the second home, and that will just keep reminding me that the ending is coming for Jake and me.

My work life will improve, my proximity to old friends will be so much better, and I will return to a place where I have such a strong visceral connection. So some things will be gained. And some big things lost. The one big satisfaction in my life now, my one true honest relationship with Jake, who is knows better now than any other human being, will change.

The experience with him that has so lifted my spirits in enormous ways, will have to end in its current form. Jake and I have already talked about how we must stay in contact, and both hope we can arrange some visits back and forth, but there will be an abrupt and irreversible cessation of our regular frequent time together, and I will miss that kind of time with him very much. That is one big change in this New Year that will hurt.

It is now the time for vows as one year ends and another begins.

My vow two years ago to start going to a gym regularly finally worked after years of false starts, and that has actually reduced some of my lows and made me feel more physically fit and less anxious. My vow last year was to stop the almost manic pursuit of men using Adam for Adam sites, and see if one of the guys I had already met, including Jake, might become a more regular steady man. That turned out to be so much more meaningful and sensual and sexually liberating than I ever imagined.

This year I am not searching for a man, but I am still searching to find deeper meaning in my life than just from my career, and have decided to invest more time in creative, expressive activities that will also get me more centered and less restless. My vow this year, started before Christmas, was to do one drawing and write at least one sentence in a small journal I bought last year, like a daily creative diary, and so far I have kept it up. It is a kind of meditation and way to feel more centered and regular in a year that will have some hard transitions and likely to have some very strong emotional occurances.

This new habit is actually a rekindling of an old practice that got me through some other times of transition. The commitment to getting out to write and draw has been part of the fun of this break. And there is an immediate positive feedback loop when the journal work opens up a conversation. Or when making the effort to get out with a friend revives you both. It is like a good gym work out, or going to hear great music, or just getting a jolt of good feelings from an outing you want to remember.

Of course great sex is another one of those needs we have that makes us just feel good, and maybe one of the reasons I was more restless on this break than I anticpated was that Jake and I are apart for 3 weeks, and my wife and I are not having sex.   So it was even more important for my mental health to have some new hobby and excursions out of the house and allow myself to venture into the hopeful world of infinite possibilities.

Today I am more calm for some reason, and headed out for one last day alone, laptop and journal in hand and warm clothes to stave off the misty cold day. I find when I just stay in my house alone, it is like spinning around in my head…I can get stuck and feel restless and easily go to the negative.

Jake and I talk about each of our tendencies to crawl into our “man caves” at times, like some wounded animal that instinctually needs to be away from all and rolled into a self comforting ball. I have always felt more alive when I am out in the world and while I can be washed over by sadness and inflicted by a sense of the tragic side of life anywhere, somehow walking around beautiful natural areas or taking in the energy and excitement others radiate in their cities lifts me up some. Or at least I can get my images and words flowing better in some small café, than in my silent enclosing house.

Today again I feel, we do have some control over our petty dissatisfactions by trying to act, or think, and then feel, more positive about our own lives. But the big issue is still out there, not resolved in 2011 and likely not next year either. I am a married man leading a secret life having an affair with a man. I write that and recognize this is an unstable situation. And on this eve of an old year ending, a new one beginning, I am no closer to feeling where to go with the marriage and how to integrate my newfound sexuality into my adult life.

I only know that I need to get out into the world more, make some new friends somehow with whom I can reveal myself, and fight against the twin ogres of dissatisfaction and hopelessness that can trap one between an untenable present, and an unpromising future.

So here is for a Happy New Year for all. I hope this is a year in which you can feel better about who you are, value your current life, and make some new connections that help you feel more balanced and fully alive. Here is to gaining ground against the creep of dissatisfaction, and to feeling positive about the future.

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the post time below and click on the word Comments for a comment box to open.

T'was a BI/Gay Night Before.

2011-12-23T10:51:00.000-08:00

Holiday Cheer

I have always had a penchant for doing parodies and spoofs, and despite my quite serious demeanor, enjoy the lighter things and good humor immensely. Somehow in the little time I have between all the family holiday preparations and gatherings, I found ninety minutes to do a parody of that oft recited holiday Poem by Clement Clarke Moore who penned it for his own kids.
To all my married Guys Like Me
Here is my special version of:
“T’was the night before Christmas”

T’was the night before Christmas and all through my brain
The images of nude men washed down like warm rain
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
But I longed for hung men without underwear

I tried, like the family, to snuggle in bed
Yet visions of naked men danced in my head
My wife in her sleep mask and I in my cap
Were too tired to screw and she snored through my tap

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
Away to the window, I flew like a flash
With hard on still throbbing, I threw up the sash

The moon on the skin of the fresh fallen snow
Lit a masculine torso emerging below
And even more wonderous, what should appear
But his fellow buff buddies exuding great cheer

With the limousine driver arriving so quick
I new in an instant it must be Saint Dick
So manly and robust his crewmates they came
As he groped them and stroked them and called them by name

“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!
On the top of the porch, off the side of the wall
Now suck away, fuck away, blast away all!”

As lovers that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount toward the sky
So up on the housetop the buddies all flew
With lube and with sex toys the better to screw

And then in the moaning and shouts on the roof
The prancing and probing of each gave me proof
That if I held silent and turned full around
Down the chimney Saint Dick would arrive leather bound

He was dressed in red chaps with work boots on each foot
And his ass through his jockstrap was covered with soot
A bundle of chains he had on his back
And he looked like a weight lifter with his six-pack

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples were merry!
His ass cheeks were gorgeous, his chest was so hairy!
His cock was enormous and balls hung so low
And his blond buzz-cut head felt as soft as new snow

The stub of a joint he held tight in his teeth
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a fine face and a flat tight smooth belly
And a muscular build that could melt me like jelly

He was pumped up and eager, a right sexual elf
And I panted and drooled, inspite of myself
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work
We merged with such passion it drove me beserk
And just when we both came, and I kissed his nose
With one last big cum spurt, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to the limo, to the guys gave a whistle,
And away they all sped like the down on a thistle
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight
“Happy Christmas my fuck buddy, can’t wait ‘til next night!

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the post time below and click on the word Comments for a comment box to open.

What, Me Happy?

2011-12-19T18:21:00.000-08:00

Bah Humbug Debunked

Open Letter to BiLikeMe

In response to his December 19 Post

It is so hard to figure out which comes first, a predisposition to see the tragic and flawed and fatal in life, or the feeling that one is not like other men and never free to be who one really is, so forever not fulfilled. I am, like you, someone who has had a long penchant for feeling as if the joyous is ephemeral, the good is fleeting, and the real “truth” about life is that it ends. The existentialists are right, in that it is up to us to give our existence meaning, for otherwise it has none. And given that naked proposition, some like you elect to see the short and often painful time we have on this planet as the predominant and negative central theme of existence. Boy, do I know what you mean.

However, I have recently come to see, later in my life than you, that much of my negativity is in fact wound up with not being able to be truly who I am, and that prevents one from forming the strong human bonds and plunges into rewarding activities that are the hallmark of a satisfying life. Objectively, I seem to have it all. Inside, for a long time it all fell far short of my expectations.

What is so amazing is to see many people with so much less going for them that seem happy. And to then see those who all imagine would have a wonderful life feeling distraught. So there is no direct link between what you have, or even what you look like, and how you feel on the inside.

The research on “happiness” does note that one of the less happy stages in life is between ones mid 20’s and mid 50’s. BiLike Me, you are in that range, plus you have a tendency to see the negative, plus you are a guy with a huge secret and frustrated in trying to find men to be intimate with. Is it any wonder you see the world as you do? But you do have some control over how you see things, and I do not think this is a male/female divide as you posit it.

You are still a man who is a work in progress, with complex needs and desires that have you feeling negative a lot. And I can relate to that so well – just read some of the totally downbeat posts I have done in my spiraling- down moods. There are probably more days like that on the horizon. But intellectually, I know now a lot of why I felt the way I do is because I never fully accepted myself. As that has changed, so has the old dark cloud begun to have some rays of light coming through. In fact, it is gloriously sunny or just sublimely tranquil a lot of the time. More than 50% of the time now, if I really credit myself accurately.

We are all born alone, and we die alone, that is a material fact. We all also have a unique life perspective and have the capacity to feel such powerful emotions and form such strong ties with others and feel the privilege of being alive some days. And the more we can savor those good days and genuine connections to others, the more we feel at peace with ourselves, then the better we handle the inevitable down times and lonely spaces and disappointments. We can be remarkable resilient creatures, and the survival mechanisms that make pain be forgotten but pleasure and joy reside in special memory zones speaks to our human species nature as being predominantly optimists and pleasure seekers, despite the reputation for being cruel and warmakers.

Your cynicism is understandable BiLikeMe, but you can change your worldview just like you can build up your body or enrich your mind if you want to. And we know you are very good at taking care of your corpus. But wanting to change one’s worldview comes from believing there is something there worth doing that for. And I can relate to your tone that suggests there is no other way of looking at things that seems either real, or attainable for a “fully conscious” being.

I long equated the real meaning of life with the dark side, the serious works, the tragedies that unmasked the futileness of so much of our human endeavor. The lighter work and raucous humor and good feelings that were also part of my life seemed too fleeting, and too infrequent, to add up to the predominant aspect of life.

For too many years, a corrosive voice kept whispering to me variations of:

“What’s the use, you will never be as (cool, good looking, muscular, popular, self confident, athletic) as those other guys.”

“Why try, you will never be as (brilliant, creative, accomplished, admired) as those other guys.”

Even as some college and post college social successes helped undo those negative voices, there was the creeping newer whisper of:

“What the fuck, you are actually turned on to guys, and that is so depressing”

And so despite years, verifiable good work and meaningful accomplishments, there has been a hollow of feeling actually a fraud – less than a man for wanting secretly to make love with a man. And all that feeds back into justifying a negative world view.

You may just be a quasi-depressed person or have some other inherited or acculturated trait of negativity to begin with. Well so did I. But I suspect the “Glass Half Empty” view is a lot more related to the conflict between your social position as a heterosexual father/husband provider, and your actual identity as a bisexual or gay man in the closet. And these holiday times, with their big emphasis on conventional tableaux of perfect family gatherings, must push the negative buttons harder.

That is what my life has been like for so many Decembers: Entering every holiday, dreading the bad feelings inside of not really feeling like I belong at the center of the house of joy, among the champagne toasting friends. But reading your story of feeling that life is really not about these moments, made me realize that like you I had diminished the times of real mirth and warmth and connection unfairly. And from a different framework, I could chose to actually indulge and enjoy and get out of this season what I can put into it.

I may not be able to blurt out what I am doing with a man who is now my secret lover. But I can feel good, for once, about myself and be radiantly alive with this new self-knowledge and understanding I have.

This year, for myself, I am giving the gift of self-acceptance and satisfaction with the life I have made – warts and wrinkles and secret recesses and all. And maybe that will help the long healing process over time. At least I can be a better giver back to my family and friends, who don’t deserve my ambivalence and my distancing any more.

The shrink, and my wife, are actually both very much alike on one point – they encourage me to love the life I have, and live it to the fullest, rather than whither at the periodic thoughts of meaninglessness that creep in unexpectedly. Perhaps you could try to do the same. And as it turns out, “faking” being really happy can actually have its own placebo effect. Not that I endorse falsehood. It just turns out that there is some psychological truth to the Depression Era song about “Smile, though your heart is breaking…”

In most religions, this time of year is one of myths that are all about being in awe of our miraculous existence – I do not subscribe to any particular faith, but I intend to let some of the magic infect me after many decades of strong resistance. Not because I believe in all the hokum. And certainly not due to all the merchandising. But because I can now, of my own free will, elect to have a good time over the holidays. Because for the first full year of my life, since marriage over 25 years ago, I have accepted my own true nature. And because fate brought me into an intense relationship with a fine man who has such a deep and beautiful soul.

BiLikeMe, you have tasted briefly that intimate, soulful connection to another man, and for a while you were very happy. That is possible to find again, you have to believe in that, or you will get bitter and negative and decide life is just a rocky road to the cemetery. I wish you the fortune I have had, and if I could stumble into this, you must believe you can. You don’t have to believe in much else, but if you give up on the idea of having meaningful relationships with other men you may indeed find no meaning in anything at all.

I could not be here, preaching about positive thinking, if my own life had not so changed. And so I have to give great credit to Jake for helping me turn my own disposition around some – at least enough to prevent me from a thunderous crash.

Jake, you have altered my life in ways that are profound and confusing and wonderful and I am like a child again at times with you. And you let me be who I really am, in your arms, in your home, in your life. And the greatest gift you have given me is to lift my spirits and help me choose to try to dwell out of the darkness. And I hope I have helped you stay out of your cave a lot longer as well.

I am truly happy, at this time of manufactured holiday faux-happiness, and if I can be this way, it really is a bit of a miracle. And maybe now I can believe a little more in finding other happiness in the future. Happy Holidays to All, and to All, many good thoughts of a Good Night!

All photos from the website, Bubblicious Butts. To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the post time below and click on the word Comments for a comment box to open.

On the Road Home

2011-12-09T15:36:00.000-08:00

My Beautiful Man

I sit across from the 1930’s era Santa Barbara Courthouse in the Coffee Cat café on a spectacular December day. I am hunting for one of those several posts I started, but never completed, about some of the spectacular sexual sessions Jake and I have had in the last months. But I seem to have brought the wrong flash drive with me on this weeklong business trip. Damn! I know I had worked carefully on trying to capture that night we spent in a wine country hotel, drinking whisky in front of the room’s large fireplace. We began touching and kissing in a way that sizzled hotter than the sparking flames across the room. Then we tumbled all over the bed changing positions as we brought each other to the edge multiple times. It was the next morning, rising early before checkout, that the final culmination came in an unexpected surge of lust.

In a more recent, next hotel rendezvous, in the overly cute town of Solvang, the King bed was so enormous we joked about getting lost and not being able to even sense the other was there across the acres of sheets and duvets and pillow piles heaped all over the place. But that did not prevent us from having an even more passionate night of surprising sexual breakthroughs. And the next morning, after a swim in the heated pool and Jacuzzi immersion in which we fondled one another beneath the masking bubble froth, we got so turned onto one another about 15 minutes before I absolutely had to leave for a morning meeting, that we brought him to a spectacular orgasm as we showered together. And then his magic lips and hands got me to my own screaming explosion in the most accelerated move from limp to rope spurting I have experienced in many years.

The sexual energy and creativity we have come from some mysterious and, at this point, bottomless well within each one of us that seems interconnected below ground. I am left stuttering and shaking and whimpering and rubber-legged, as he is too. And we just stun one another all the time with what seems to just unfold from the play.

While I have not cum in his ass from fucking him, the feeling gets better and I get closer each time we try that position. And one recent time we made love, we sort of simulated what that kind of feeling for each of us would be like.

I had brought him to his body-shaking explosion and it was just before we each thought we were maybe too drunk and tired to reach that ultimate state. We had wound things down, holding one another, but somehow our lingering kissing that would often be a prelude to saying good night was reawakening my desire. He went down on me in a way that got me rock hard unexpectedly, as I squatted backed up against the short headboard so he could get a better grip on me and have me arch back some and thrust as he worked my manhood. I was rocking my hips and getting closer when he pulled off and asked me to say when I was about to cum, so he could pivot around and have me shove into his ass as I blew my load.

I had been fingering him and rimming him and knew he was really pretty open and the image of us doing that move got me even more excited and closer to ejaculating. I looked down at his manly naked body with his firm narrow ass humped up a bit as he lay there sucking and stroking me, and my entire fantasy realm locked into the image of entering him the way he wanted. And with only a few more masterful licks and superb sucking action, as he could tell from my swelling cock head and throbbing heat I was just about to come, I felt the surge and cried out I was about to blow my load. He spun around with his ass raised up and reached back to help pull me cock into his ass and the way it just slid in there as I was already shooting added this additional intense sensation. As I shot two more ropes directly into his ass, thrust deeply into his silky interior, we were both crying out uncontrollably, and merged into one male sexual being.

We have these moments of such shared bliss and erased boundaries, which defy easy labeling and certain prediction of what the next time will be like.

The term “flipping” may be an attempt to capture how two men can exchange top and bottom roles and thereby give each other the full range of pleasures one can get from our genitalia and prostate. It lacks poetry and soulfulness as a word. It may describe the geometry of what happens, but doesn’t explain that there begins to be a blurring of the conventional separate notions of giving and receiving, commanding and responding, that are associated with a change of positions, if the focus is on sexual reciprocity.

We started this relationship with Jake being more typically a bottom, and me aspiring to be a top, while each of us is really into multiple and evolving ways of stimulating one another and experiencing pleasure. I will confess to a history of mostly oral sex as a giver and receiver, for whom the nights and mornings with Jake have greatly expanded my repertoire. So it seemed just another evolutionary and natural occurrence that one night, he felt a strong urge to penetrate me at a time I was feeling very receptive to him. It has taken me a lot of work to loosen up emotionally to being “a bottom” even as we discovered that I was able to take in his ample cock with no pain. I was still holding onto some past negativity about seeing myself as “getting fucked” by a man in the early months of our relationship, but by the time he initiated this new request, two months after we last tried it, I was finally ready.

So was it some way in which I was now not just physically open to his lusty wish to fuck, but emotionally open, that made the experience so different, or was it the attentive and loving way in which he worked my body and showed me his caring before he slid into me with much less need for lubrication than before. I would hate to credit it just to the excellent Syrah we downed and the erotic boost we each seem to get from “hotel sex”.

But whatever the reason it started so well, it ended with even more surprising pleasure. He treated me as a virile man whose ass and body turned him on so much, and his pace and moves got me swaying a bit in a way that just got him to feel so big and hard and got me to have more pleasure in that zone than usual. So when he came and screamed and collapsed on my back and cupped his hands under my chest in a masculine squeeze at the end, we just lay there fit tight together panting at the same rate. But instead of quickly shriveling back to his normal uncut flaccid state, he kept rock hard and heated up in my ass.

He is a rare guy that even at over 40 can still cum multiple times in an evening, and I found myself, almost teasingly, squeezing my glutes and massaging his cock and he became completely turned on to that massaging. We were quickly at it again, this time with me more actively using my butt muscles and twisting my torso to grip and release and rotate around his shaft as he thrust in and out. We were both working like some multihanded pleasure device on his engorged member and it pushed him toward a second big climax less than 7 minutes after the first one, like a double earthquake had struck him senseless twice in a row.

So this is what it has been like now, twice a week, though interrupted by a long stretch absence over Thanksgiving, and another weeklong separation due to a business trip I am ending.

I get to see him later today, arriving early enough for us to take a vigorous walk in hills around his town before the sunsets. Then we will make our way back to his place, and we will create yet some new and different ritual of sharing our naked lustful bodies with one another.

The relationship is more than about the sex, and the way we have connected as two men and bonded over many shared values and feelings is remarkable to me. The sexual connection comes out of the bond, and so is an expression of something still hard to define and describe.

But the sex, my god the sex is phenomenal and liberating and moving. I am not a top or a bottom or a regular player at a pre-scripted game of lust and desire. I am a fluid, evolving, lover of a man who is himself a skilled and attentive lover and this is such a big part of who I am and what I do right now. I may be avoiding the definitions of whether I am bi or gay, top or bottom. I may be ducking the issue of whether I need to tell her to be free of secrecy, or stay secret to preserve a precious marriage. But I have no ambivalence about being drawn to Jake, and finding with and through him sides of myself and expressions of my self I had never know before.

I have to cut back on the writing about it even more as I head into a protracted period of time from mid-December to early January in which Jake goes to Europe to visit family, I go for two weeks of business plus holiday time to be with my family, and this guy that is very out there with Jake goes back into dormancy for two weeks.

I will post some old entries and keep some news flowing in the meantime. And even though Thanksgiving is long gone, I am more thankful than ever to have found a guy like Jake and had him become such a big part of my life. And Santa Barbara, one of the most beautiful cities in America, has little allure for me today. I am headed to my home away from home, with Jake. That is what his comfortable welcoming abode has become for me. And before sundown, I will be back in the arms of my eager sexy soulful man once more. What could be more beautiful?

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the post time below and click on the word Comments for a comment box to open.

Giving Thanks

2011-11-22T07:15:00.000-08:00

Savor the Good

These are troubling times, and the problems of the world are escalating. But as Woody Allen the neurotic cynic said in one of his comedies as he mulled over global threats while tasting a fantastic new dish at a restaurant, “ The world is definitely getting worse….but man the food is getting better!”.

For me, the relationship with Jake in all its dimensions just keeps getting better. And man, the sex has also taken another leap forward. This bright spot in my personal life against the tableau of all the misfortune facing so many human beings is certainly one reason I can give thanks this year for my own good life. Two years ago at Thanksgiving I was depressed and putting on weight and looking darkly at the future. But for some reason that Thanksgiving weekend, stepping off the scale after several days of gluttony, I decided I needed to change things.

Now two years later I am more trim and toned physically, and feeling better than I have for many years, and a lot of that is due to also embracing my real sexuality and finding a great guy after a few months of hit and miss manic dating.

I could go on more about all this and have several posts backed up with some details about what Jake and I do together. But for now, with a need to focus on my family and the holidays, I have to take a break from him, and from blogging such long posts, and just savor all that is good and give thanks. For so many years, deep inside, I really was not thankful to be who I was.

Now it feels good, even though there is so much to resolve and the burden of living in secrecy to carry. Still, I give thanks. And also thank all the men who have helped me get to where I am so far – dozens of you regulars whose comments have provided a cumulative support network that is the best buddy network I have ever had, even if we never meet.

Thanks

His Shame, Not Ours

2011-11-16T09:18:00.000-08:00

A Massive Loss of Innocence

This entry is substantially composed of a comment I left on Jack Scott's compelling post about the Penn State tragedy on his blog. I wrote the comment while watching the morning news, and by coincidence the state attorney for Delaware was being interviewed about the larger social issue of child sexual abuse. I was shocked at the pervasiveness revealed in those statistics, even though I am fully aware of the fact abuse and the sex industry sector involving younger boys and girls are real American problems we hardly ever talk about. After leaving the comment on Jack's blog, I thought I really wanted to make a post of my own on this issue. What I have written below contains some additional lines beyond my comments to Jack. You all must read his own tale of being accosted as a young man by an older man in a back room sex overture which is woven into Jack's post.

Given the nature of this post, it just did not seem right to post my usual photos of naked men that augment the text of my posts. We searching bi and gay men should certainly have no shame in what we seek and do with other adults. That is a world away from the shameful activities in which adult men prey on younger people and abuse their adult role in ways that can permanently affect a child. We can still celebrate the male body and seek male bonding and all that is good about sexuality with other men, while feeling terrible about how misguided sexual desire aimed at innocent young people can be so bad.

So I selected a picture of two adult men having a healthy love relationship as a positive counterpoint to the coach Sandusky (my spell check failed me on Jack's comments where I refer to coach Syracuse). And after that, no pictures this time. What picture of a naked sexually inviting man belongs in a serious discussion of child molesting? So today we take a break from looking at great looking men to have some discussion about a big topic that affects us all in some way.

Letter to Jack Scott

Jack,

Thanks for this thoughtful post, and for sharing with us that troubling experience of your own along with such strong empathy for the affected young men.

Your points about how this is playing out in a society that as a whole still has negative attitudes about sexuality between two men, or two women, are also spot on. It reminds me of some of the issues raised in the gay community in the 80's as a fringe group called the Man-Boy Society began boldly advocating for, and spreading pamphlets around about, the legitimacy of sexual relationships between boys and adult men. This really caused a lot of alarm in the fledgling gay community, as there is such a stereotype of gay men as predators on innocent boys and groups. Advocating for such man-boy relationships was bringing hostile reaction on all gays at the time.

This issue of the power relationships and mental manipulations involved in sexual contact between boys, and men, even if both parties are "willing", is so loaded. It is a legitimate social taboo in many societies….even those that as a whole tolerate or sanction more mature late adolescents having sex with older men, as in Athenian society. That Athenian model was acknowledged and accepted by all, was part of a ritualistic induction into manhood, and did not single out in secret sordid ways one young man differently than others.

What we also see in this tragedy is the way that sexual repression produces predators. In some way Coach Sandusky's tragic compulsive and self-destructive way of finding sexual outlets became focused on young men with whom he should have had no physical contact. He and lots of other men have found their erotic exotic drive perversely aimed at the forbidden zone of boyhood after they had grown into adult men. In a different kind of world, he might have discovered and resolved his real sexual nature and need for men in a much healthier way.

I am not supporting what Sandusky did at all, but I am trying to understand him as a flawed tragic figure who was of a generation and culture that did make him what he was. And we know sadly, the sexual abuse of young people is still a huge issue in the modern world, hetero or homo. As I was writing this comment a newscaster revealed a startling statistic. One in 4 girls and one in 6 boys have experienced some form of sexual abuse in America at some point!

Can we all fathom such an extraordinary number of youth having such a troubling experience? If this were a disease we would call it an epidemic and try to understand its origins, not just stamp it out by getting rid of those that spread it. And psychological damage done by this activity has its own long term awful implications. Those abused at a young age are much more likely to themselves have difficult sexuality as adults. And those that were preyed upon are more likely to later become predators themselves according to some studies of predators.

The trafficking in young girls and sex excursions of American and European men to permissive societies for sex with young boys and girls is a huge industry. For every uncovered Sandusky there are tens of thousands of other men who cannot control the terrible urges that they have, and the elaborate plans they make and justify in pursuit of a kind of youth-robbing sex.

They are damaged men who cannot seem to form adult consenting sexual relationships and intimate bonds, and this is a social tragedy, not just a Penn State or coach Syracuse tragedy. It is a tragedy of a society whose mixed messages about adult sexuality and acceptable sexual behavior create so many tortured souls and aberrants. Gay and bisexual people are not the aberration. But the confusion and fright triggered when scandals like the coach Syracuse situation erupt can stoke the flames of sexual repression that takes its first convenient aim at “deviants from heterosexual monogamy”.

The real long term solution is sexual liberation and tolerance that does not box mold so many men into tightly wound damaged souls. But that is a world that will take several generations to create, and in the meantime we all have to struggle with our individual damage and find our own adult meaningful sexual relationships as part of the hidden bi minority. And even as we try to advocate for greater freedom and acceptance for the younger men and women to become true to their own real sexual nature, we must also deplore those for whom their own sad evolution has perverted nature and unleashed them on innocent young people.

Predators like Sandusky are tragic flawed men and are not a product of nature. They are products of a society that is still very far removed from nature. And if we are on the side of integrating our sexuality in a more natural way, we must see the Sandusky affair as not our shame as gay or bisexual men, but the shame of a society.

Certainly in all societies there will be genetically and socially compromised individuals and some form of unacceptable sexual deviance, just like violence, greed, and other negative human tendencies may be manifest in some individuals.

But any society in which up to a sixth to a quarter of all its children have been touched or felt up or coerced into some form of sex with an adult has a problem. And this is a problem that cannot be blamed simply on the mental makeup of the individual predators as if it was like the factory's fault that built that autonomous clunker human. Punishment of the discovered distorted souls does not eradicate the underlying conditions that give rise to the phenomenon and in some families and institutions then try to cover up the evidence.

Predators are not a product of nature, they are products of a society that is still very far removed from nature. Sandusky is a terribly disturbed man, but calls to lynch him as some right wing nuts have suggested avoid the more troubling fact that there are millions more men like him. Their own thwarted malformed sexuality cannot be changed by just one showcase trial which the media is likely to drag us through and likely force political candidates to take serious positions joining in the condemnation. I cringe at the weeks ahead that will saturate us with more shocking revelations. And I am convinced given the explosive nature of this topic, we will once again avoid any honest discussion about how our own conflicting sexual mores contribute to the making of every new Sandusky.

I predict after the outcries we will retreat to some falsely comforting smug normal again. Long after some emotional focus on the loss of innocence to a few real boys, we will slip silently into an avoidance of any real talk about human sexuality as if we could return to our own innocence as a society again. And the shame will continue.

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the post time below and click on the word Comments for a comment box to open.

Domestic Tranquility and Bonding

2011-11-11T17:48:00.000-08:00

If Phi Delta Theta Only Knew

I have been doing a lot of work related travel over the last two weeks, so the nights with Jake have been sandwiched into my crowded life in an even more compact way. That means getting to his place later, leaving very early, and bring lots of work stress or travel fatigue in the door when I arrive. This week I added an emerging cold and nasal drip to the date. Through all this his response has been to feed me, mix me the right drink, get me to share my day’s frustrations, and make me feel like he just wants to take care of me in those ways only close friends or a wife would do naturally.

Through these two weeks and four date nights, the sex was not the focus so much. We each needed to cuddle, caress, kiss, and rub one another’s bodies as we spaced out watching mediocre movies and laughing or riffing at the bad lines. A few of the flicks turned out to be better than I thought, but that might be because we started our own play acting afterward, throwing exaggerated lines and gestures back and forth and just having fun making up stories together.

It was if we had been old old friends or close cousins that had developed this bond over shared humor and word play and a sense of connection that makes us feel so comfortable together. It has been like having a buddy who is a fellow traveler in an otherwise bizarre family or alienating neighborhood. As we are each variations of long time outsiders from our respective families and cultures, we have found some commonalities on top of the initial sexual attraction. I have found not just a guy with whom sex is spectacular; I have also found a brother in the bond.

That phrase, “brother in the bond” was a phrase I had to memorize and regurgitate in the brief period in which against all my instincts I joined a college fraternity and had to learn some secret and overly serious statements that somehow were meant to distinguish us from the 54 other frats on the campus. My frat bros were supposed to greet each other with that phrase, “brothers in the bond”. No one ever explained what that word bond meant, but it stood for a special man to man connection.

I did not bond that way in high school, despite having a close group of male and female friends. It took going away to college and sensing there was some kind of male-to-male connections that had eluded me up to then. I had always envied those confident clowning jocks in high school that seemed to have an almost physical connection to one another within an uber masculine acceptable model. I was truly not like them, and could not have predicted that in college I would be able to reposition myself as a sought after buddy by some guys, and certainly popular among a class of guys that would not have even approached me in high school.

That I was courted and rushed by frats with great looking guys and jocks astounded me, but then the change in media ideas of maleness and my growth into a more comfortable relationship to my own body helped “the new me” emerge more confidently.

Male bonding, in fraternities, in a state where the drinking age was 18, bars were open until 4 AM, and men outnumbered women three to one, was fantastic and troubling in equal proportions. It was my first exposure to the strange mixed signal world of men forming those kind of relationships that allowed for drunken behavior that bordered on the homoerotic to be laughed off as just being guys – dropping trousers to bare our asses, bear hugs at athletic victories, hot sweaty group dancing with our dates wondering why the guys were all doing hip thrusting routines en masse.

Towel snaps in showers, stripping drunken guys to their underwear to get them into their beds, strutting around in jock straps and showing big bulges to see how other guys reacted, this was all going on like a constant test of manliness. You could not overreact and lose your cool and reveal any embarrassment or arousal at all that testosterone pinging around all the time and producing sudden outbursts of quasi-sexual game playing.

Similar to my fear of seeming too girlie in a Halloween costume, I was afraid of not indulging in some of the frat pranks for fear of not being considered one of the guys. Like agreeing to do a 5 guy “moon” shot of our bare assess while standing up in the back seat of a convertible and being captured on camera as part of a bridegrooms buddy gathering.

I found those frat rituals very tension producing – especially when close physical contact and alcohol infused sentimentality mixed late at night. Trying to be one of the guys as a brother in the bond sometimes made me feel like I was actually not the guy they thought I was and I would give myself away any moment. Which may be why I drank way too much and felt frantic to have a date, any date, to every party. But then there was even the kind of male bonding that grew up around trashing those bad blind dates or otherwise dissing the empty-headed townies and dumb-broad imported women from nearby girls schools.

It was OK to trash specific women but not OK to reveal you had some doubts about your ability to attract women or your jitters about having sex. I had women friends and visceral attractions to some amazing women, but seemed to have a pattern of falling for women who were already with other guys, then having to find second choice women to bring to events. I could talk to women and liked women, but had no experience in making love to a woman and midway through college it began to be clear that I was watching men as much as women and fought major internal battles to push this tendency down and away. And being a smart guy, figured there must be some mental way I could do this, or that finding the right woman would cure me of these aberrant thoughts.

A few years out of college I discovered two of those frat brothers who were so smooth and good looking and always had the sexiest dates had come out as gay. They must have been feeling the same thing I was in those parties and night antics. And they were also among the very few in that frat with whom I stayed up late at night and talked philosophy and all the meaning-of-life stuff while winter blasts outside shook the windows. The storms outside somehow amped up the storms inside. And maybe we recognized in some unspoken and unconscious way that we were brothers in a different bond than the others, but a bond we dare not show or act upon. We were alumni of a different kind in the making, invisible to one another and the world within the masculine facade of Greek life

Some of those men were also the ones I could have the heartiest laughs with too. I had an ability to show and share the full spectrum of intensity and emotion with them, and felt them to be different kinds of friends, able to admit doubt and show vulnerability, able to be really smart and really funny and swing between the two. Able to move their bodies to the music with a sensuality that was so masculine and sexy and show their total immersion in the rhythms in a way I wanted to replicate. So male and yet so erotically aimed at other men I now know, not to the women with whom they were then gyrating.

Me too, I was like that too. I managed to have great looking dates a lot of the time – the gorgeous blond Olympic swimmer among them. And I could party wildly like the straightest jock. But I was looking more at all the other men around me than I should have. I wanted my own form of a brother in the bond but scared shitless to admit that this unspoken envy of them masked a deeper yearning. If I am honest looking back to that college-aged guy I was, I really wanted some hugging and touching and sex to be part of that male bond. Yet if any guy had offered it, I would have panicked and run in terror.
That was then, but this is now.

I thought of this while driving back from one of my long trips, headed to Jake’s house instead of my own, as some old dance music I used to go ape over came on the car radio. Trapped in slow moving LA rush hour traffic, I bounced around in the car to the Motown sound to get some blood flowing and fight back the sleepiness. It was a song I used to dance to in that frat house, feeling liberated to shake my body that way and feed off the energy of all the other guys pumped up the same way. Thank god in that frat house, hot dancing was considered a masculine expression.

Jake reassured me in a cell phone call that given where I was on the freeway, I would make it to his place in less than 2 hours. He would have dinner and some cold-fighting whiskey ready for me. Pampering me has been one of his many fine assets from the beginning. He has been pampering me like the best bro would.

And then it became clear, he had become that brother in the bond, that man with whom a night of domestic tranquility was the height of pleasure. He and I each felt less driven to those exhilarating explosions and more toward holding and hugging over the last two weeks. This hardly means the end of sex as measured by orgasms and heat. But these two weeks have been more about a different kind of connection, and marked just how strong a real human bond had developed between us.

We can start dancing together if the music he has on unleashes that urge when I arrive. We catch up on what we have done or thought or read and that give us endless material to talk about, excitedly or reflectively or tenderly. We pass the few hours we have on the couch and then head to bed. Somehow the small spaces we inhabit and the repetition of routines do not constrain the sense of the possible, or limit our imaginations. We have now this domestic tranquility that offers a state of heightened awareness and focused intensity.

Sadly, it contrasts with the state of domestic tension that has characterized much of my married live for the last several years. Yet one good countertrend it that by some form of mutual reinforcement and transference, my home life has improved a lot even as I have this alternate domestic reality with Jake.

Worn down and fighting back the itchy throat as I finally rolled into his gravel driveway in the cold and dark, I felt restored in Jake’s warm embrace and the nurturing. He sees me start to nod off during a dull part of a Netflix rental and suggests its time for bed. No pressure for sex, just time to press our bodies together and envelope one another tucked beneath the soft flannel sheets on a frosty night. To sleep, perchance to dream. And I dream of what?

I rarely remember dreams but on two recent nights with Jake, due to work anxieties and mucus discomfort, my nights were filled with short dreams between fitful tossing about and bathroom trips. The most recent dream I had featured me looking for an apartment in a foreign city with a man who is my lover. It was a dream of domesticity I have never had before, not with a woman but with a man. I had a brother in the bond, who had become my longer-term erotic partner, and now we were about to start cohabiting. In that dream I am making a new life in a new place with a new person. I was filled with a combination of caution and thrill.

So now my new reality is reflected in my dreams. And that dream was shaped by a new stage in the development of my relationship with Jake, tested and found steady in the face of tight schedules, career rattles, and sex-killing sniffles. He is my lover. And perhaps more meaningfully for now, he is also my first ever brother in the bond.

All images are from Fratman.com except for the guys mooning and the Alumni Weekend pictures.

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the post time and a comment box will open

Exotic Erotic Halloween

2011-10-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

Out for the Night

Halloween was often a night those straight men I knew got to dress up as women and camp it up with no reproach. In fact the girlfriends and wives could do gender bending of their own and all had a great time. Except of course for guys like me --- from the college days when the cross dressing trend seemed OK for jocks on, I was always pretty uptight about cooking up a costume that even suggested at femininity. It was always an uncomfortable ritual those many Halloweens before carting my own kid around displaced going out to Halloween parties myself.

Halloween started feeling tense about the time I started feeling different than other guys, but it really got worse later on when I could not really read where a guy was coming from when he came onto me on Halloween night. I can still remember some of those parties, a few of which I hosted, when straight men with women's clothes and makeup and yet still very male would come onto me after a bunch of drinks and maybe some dope and I was not entirely sure it was all a joke. And damned if some of the most good-looking guys just seemed to use that night to act it all out. Who knows how many of them were really gay or bi inside and used this as a safe cover? Were they like double agents, using the permission of their dates to be "girls", then to actually use that guise to land a guy for some action on the side? I would never dare dress as they did or come across that way for fear I would be too convincing or otherwise get wisecracks later about how pretty I looked.

I was reminded of this discomfort I had with the notion of seeming to act feminine, even for one Halloween night, when I recently reread an academic article about "the Exotic and the Erotic". This is a provocative theoretical article that includes sound statistical research using questionnaires and surveys and focus groups of grown men who indicate they have homoerotic fantasies or real experiences. The article has an interesting proposition, which sidesteps the argument about whether we are born gay or made gay. It suggests that as we enter the hormonal growth period of adolescence, we make a sudden shift from having an aversion to what gender is different from us (the exotic), and now want to pursue that other gender erotically.

And it further suggests that our shift to wanting now what is the opposite of what we once wanted, we are drawn toward pleasures with that exotic other, as we are in the pursuit of non-sexual pleasures....through steps and stages of positive reinforcement that kind of imprints on us a telescoped set of arousals and pleasurable responses that we know will get us to that erotic moment each time.

A movement, a smell, a laugh, some physicality all start being associated in advance with that ultimate sexual thrill...to the point that the images and smells and gestures or whatever signals we experience early on with one person, become so associated with the sex act that exposure to them in the future gets us figuratively drooling in advance. In all seriousness, the author suggests even activities like going to a football game with a date and getting totally into the roar and emotion of the event, which produces certain pleasurable responses, can actually start turning on the link to other anticipated pleasures and we already begin in our brain connecting the ritual dots that will get us into the sex act later.

Good vibes beget good sex. And a lot of where we get acculturated to good vibes comes from our pursuit of the exotic - that is of the unknown and alluring, as opposed to the known and familiar. When we partake in exercise or watch athletic events, play some great music or just hear it, we are having new and different stimulating experiences that make us feel good and we all know where an accumulation of feel-good experiences takes us. If all tailgate parties led to identical scoring games and every part of the post game event were a total repeat of the last one, it would not be exotic. It would be banal and we might not get so erotic. And so many kids might not have spring birthdays if exotic vacations among married couples were a bust in August.

For most boys, the desire to be with other boys is paramount from birth. We have plenty of boy ways of testing limits and having exotic experiences, but socially we are totally into being mostly or exclusively with boys, with whom we identify. We seem to want to have unsafe adventure, but with the gender we feel most safe with, our own.

But with the beginning of sexual maturity, a big switch is thrown and now we want the company of girls, who have at this point become the most exotic draw there is because we have never identified with them, and that very difference from us that they have turns into a giant magnetic pull. Eros has entered the scene and Eros aligns with what is the most exotic, girls. We do not cast aside male friends and we still need male company, but what is exotic then become erotic, and we turn our attention to the exotic erotic. Nature takes care of the rest.

However, this whole system assumes one's early identity is strongly with one's own gender, and so the exotic that is not what we are, is the feminine. But not all boys feel 100% identified with all the other boys and 0% identified with girls. If we are not strongly boy identified within ourselves, we paradoxically have less basis for finding boys too much like ourselves to deserve our erotic attention. There are the boys who are already seen as different at a young age - the sissies. But there are also lots of boys who look pretty similar on the outside, but inside are not so secure in their boy identification and girl aversion. If you were, like me, one of those kind of boys we actually felt we were different from our own gender, the other boys.

Feeling that way then, other boys become the exotic, long before we are fully aware that feeling different might lead to desires for what is different. Then just as that magic internal switch gets thrown at puberty, which drives our sexual interest to go for the exotic, it is boys that seem erotic to us so of course all the pleasure fantasies get driven that way.

Except of course we figure out this is not exactly how boys-becoming-men should feel, so we push back and keep secret these yearnings we have. And just as in a perfect Greek tragedy, the more we push back on those internal feelings, the more exotic other men become and the more erotic they appear as on cue, our growing eroticism aims its arrows at other young men. We watch them and want to be like them and the more they are that exotic opposite of who we are, the more our gonads pump desire out as we look at them or think of them. More and more, their moves and words and clothes and actions turn us on. We project all kinds of properties into other men that we ourselves seem to lack.

Then through more and more cycles of self denigration and homoerotic projections our hormones and developmental brain drives us to want what is the exotic opposite of what we are. It sets up a feedback loop that even if we grow into our bodies better or gain self confidence or score with some women, we have embedded a set of pleasure projections and seduction traps into our growing young minds that will stay there forever at some level. We cannot unlearn what nature so logically made us into - it seems to be a universal human developmental trait that what became exotic become erotic and this is pretty set early on in our lives and plays itself out through our entire adulthood. And nature for what ever reason had fun allowing for a very wide spectrum of exotics and erotics to arise out of just two genders.

One of the most revealing survey responses used in the article was that about 75% of men who self describe as having homoerotic desires for other men felt they were different than other boys at an early age. Compare that to the sampling of straight men among whom less than 20 % felt at any time in their boyhood they were different than other boys.

So it seems that for whatever reason we felt different very early on, that very feeling led to our unconsciously creating out of those other boys an exotic group that later in life we would have uncontrollable erotic attractions to, even if as a young boy we could not have exactly said this is what we felt and what we wanted.

Of course, Halloween is the time that lots of men and women play exotic/erotic games for the night. San Francisco has had a long-standing costume extravaganza called the Exotic Erotic Ball for years and it seems to attract a real mix of straights and gays and bisexuals. It may be that showing your stuff so overtly on Halloween, like being in total drag is for the extroverts and daredevils.

But even in the small college town I am in, Halloween night brings out a lot of jocks and frat guys and just normal seeming men who show glimpses of that exotic part within their own masculinity that had to be supplanted at some point for them to mature into mostly straight guys. It is OK to play the opposite sex one night a year in straight circles it seems. I suspect however some percentage of these guys are revealing a part of themselves to let off trapped steam and are on the down low the other nights of the year.

We now know more than Kinsey even suggested that human sexuality is highly variable and situational, and we are all maybe one mind blowing exotic moment away from having Eros take us someplace we could not have imagined.

It is all fun and games for one night of the year - maybe more if you are from New Orleans or Rio or somewhere that Mardi Gras celebrations let those suppressed exotic and erotic fantasies out. Maybe this uptight culture of ours would be much better off if the Creole/Latin exotic/erotic cultural components had dominated and the Puritan settlement had not taken hold. Enjoy some of the random pictures I found in a simple Google of the words "gay halloween". And I will get back to my own tales of unleashed exotic eroticism next post.

Happy Halloween and Dias de los Muertos!
To leave a comment, scroll your cursor rightward past the date and time below, and a comment box will open up

2011-10-24T12:01:00.000-07:00

Temptation Record

While I continue to post every ten days or so about this issue of using Adam4Adam, I am also seeing Jake twice a week and we continue to achieve new ways of finding intimacy and sexual fulfillment. I did not want any readers, or Jake who is also a reader, to be left thinking I am not continuing to invest my interest in him. Yes, we have still had some tense phone calls between our dates. It just seems some new concern on his part, or revelation on mine, feeds into a sense he has that I am just not as resolved or clear about my stated and possibly unconscious needs for the company of other men as he would be comfortable with.

I cannot be trusted from his viewpoint, based on some past occurrences. It is not about doubting my word, it is about observing how easily I have been seduced or swayed in the past. And it is not just about straying into sex with a guy on impulse, it is about not taking adequate protection and then my own health risk becomes a possible health disaster for Jake too.

The evidence is there – even before I had that encounter in the Bathhouse in LA in March, I had already let two men start fucking my ass. It was after writing about the second one, Andy, that Mark Mann and a few other readers expressed concern for me, which then led to my going to the AIDS/HIV clinic I described in the March post Clinical Analysis.

Let’s not forget that with one exception, I ended up having sex with every one of the men I let into my home for a glass of wine, each time saying in advance, this will be just to relax and get to know one another and there is no expectation of sex. I had of course done a lot of advance chatting and sharing of pictures, but either I was horny beyond all measure, or my standards for what turns me on are very broad, or I am simply the kind of man who is so flattered and aroused when another man is flirting strongly and leans forward to kiss me, that I will go all the way.

In retrospect I looked a lot like a male slut, a bi/gay nympho, whose long suppressed appetite has gone wild. If I could be so unleashed and so easily triggered from September 2010 to March 2011, and wrote in great detail about how terrific it was, what is the probability I would not submit to the testosterone pumped-up urges again?

One clear example is the time I swore I would only meet an insistent 28 year old guy from out of town for a talk, and nothing more. The out-of-towner and I had chatted on-line briefly before. He is a former air force pilot, once married and never out. This was before I had met Jake in person, but after we had begun our multi-month long e-mail correspondence.

Despite my firm intentions, this good-looking seductive guy in his fly-boy leather jacket and I had sex after he leaned forward, stroked my thigh, and gave me a very deep tongue kiss. I yielded to the temptation, eagerly. But the sex took a turn toward the uncomfortable in the end – he was the self-obsessed pounder I referred to in my post about Andy: Part 2 that scared me with his aggression and quick unasked insertion into my ass. I realized my judgement had been clouded and there had been clues there in the conversation that he was used to getting what he wanted, and a powerful sexual taker.

This shows how influenced I was then not so long ago by having a good looking, confident man exude lust for me and then reach over and start touching my body and overcoming any emerging hesitations. So does that one episode justify Jake’s misgivings about my good intentions evaporating when faced with a male siren? Well, there was one other more sensitive episode after that, and on top of the bathhouse venture casts a shadow at times on our relationship.

All these months with Jake, I have still had some contact with Eduardo, who I knew had a series of terrible financial setbacks and needed a job, and I needed someone to finish some garden and house projects. We had not had sex since early December, but he belonged to the same gym chain I did and I would run into him and one time even went out and had Tacos with him after we ran into one another in the locker room.

Jake has shown suspicions about the nature of this relationship, and I would swear nothing was happening. But then last Tuesday just as I was to leave his house in the morning after one of our better nights of sexual fun, he said, “I read that post of yours I must have sped past from last January about your breaking vows Jayson…that is exactly what concerns me about you meeting a guy for coffee or wine then ending up having sex – and maybe unprotected sex like you did carelessly in the bath house. And that is just another reason I am not sure I can trust you moving forward…just as I know you did it one time with Eduardo after we two had become what I thought was exclusive.”

Where the hell did he get that idea, and what kind of image did he have?

“I told you that? I don’t remember telling you about that “ I kind of stammered, as I searched my barely awake morning brain for the memory of telling him about that first time Eduardo came over to do work and I let him shower off at the end of the day.

"Look, I have no idea how you figured that out but you have to understand the entire story and you will consider it more a testimony to my loyalty to you than a violation if you give me a chance to explain. Come on, it was like a 90 second temptation to touch, and then I said to him, shit, I can’t do this, this is not who I am, and told him I was not going to have sex with him."

That revelation led to one of the colder silent send-offs for work I have gotten in a while. And driving away it came to me that it was a good guess and not factual knowledge that got Jake to springing that statement on me and have me talk about that incident. Our next few evenings of conversation were dominated by my telling the story, and his response. Here is the story.

This occurred in May, about the time Jake had gone to Europe and we were not sure where the relationship would end up when he got back. Eduardo spent 6 hours with me working alongside in the back yard area where we began a very complex irrigation installation project and some major pruning and trimming. It would take many more sessions which he would do alone, but I wanted to be there initially to make sure he understood the plan, and also to gauge his skills and productivity

By late afternoon, we were both very sweaty and dirty, and I said we needed to knock off as I had an evening event and wanted some time to get ready. He asked if he could shower as he had to go off to a 5:30 family event in our town, but if that didn’t feel OK he would go to the gym and shower and change. I did not feel any tingle or read any flirtation in the request and he headed off to shower as I finished taking tools into the garage.

When I went up to my bedroom to start getting ready myself, He was lying naked and ass up on my bed, with his towel dropped on the floor nearby. He smiled and said he was more tired than he realized. He invited me to lie down on top of him for old times sake. Just looking at his body like that shot me through with memories of being inside him and I had a raging hard on within seconds. My mind was saying, this is not right, if Jake and I do straighten out our relationship when he gets back, how will this look? My mind was playing out the "what if’s?". Yet the lust lobes of the brain shut the other parts down and my body was magnetized as I spontaneously entered his ass for a very brief moment.

Yet in doing that, I immediately realized what I had with Jake was worth becoming exclusive. He had parted for his trip saying he did not want to make me do anything I was not ready for, and knew I had proclaimed my need to have a few new adventures. He was not sure he could live with that, and we would need to revisit this conundrum when he got back. We would both be thinking about what we wanted to commit to and talk about it when he returned.

And it was there, I had that realization. Within minutes of succumbing to the temptation of Eduardo, I snapped out of the lust mode and knew no matter how good that felt, how much more Jake meant to me. This seems so obvious looking back, but I reminded Jake that at this point in our relationship, I had still not succeeded in cumming when we had sex, and had some beginning doubts about committing to a relationship where my orgasms were absent. I had not strayed from a sexless marriage to pursue sexual exclusivity in which I could not manage to climax.

But I knew Jake and I were headed forward sexually and what passion and connection we had, even before I blew my load with him, vastly exceeded what I had gotten out of my fling with Eduardo, orgasmic blasts and all.

Sliding out of him I explained, “Sorry buddy, I just can’t do this with you any more. I have this man who is becoming important to me and I can’t be having sex with other guys any more – not because he wants me to stop it, but because I want to stop it." Eduardo’s response was to affirm that we would still remain friends, and mine was to say of course I would have him keep working on my projects, as I knew he needed the money and I needed someone reliable to do the work.

Eduardo and Jake met once, a few months after the day I laid down on top of him. It was awkward even if I had not succumbed to temptation for a few brief minutes. He had continued to work on the irrigation project through the summer. One time when Jake and I were seeing one another at my place earlier than usual, I came home just as Jake was arriving and saw that Eduardo’s car was out front and he must still be working in the back. Eduardo emerged from the garage just as Jake entered the front patio area and I did quick introductions.

Recently Jake told me that the tension he felt in that patio encounter told him something must have been going on between Eduardo and me. At the time we three had the brief interaction, Jake turned as Eduardo drove off with that look that said it all...OK, something is going on here, right? I said, Jake, what's with the look, there is nothing happening there, please believe me. That was true, but the May incident was something I had put aside and remained undisclosed.

So he had been harboring suspicions all along. This then inflamed the A4A issue as well as put an edge into any conversation about my seeing a great looking guy at the gym, which was often followed by his asking if I did anything with the man in our gym steam room. Or what would I have done if the guy came onto me or touched me. Now I understand why my saying a few times I had seen Eduardo at the gym fed into his vivid imagination as he might have projected an opportunity there.

Despite this recent new admission of temptation and seduction, Jake and I seem to be really connecting. But I suspect these temptation conversations will continue to episodically arise. I am not doing A4A in search of 3 ways anymore, and we have left the subject of my need to meet other bi-married men alone. Now that we talked about the Eduardo situation and my past patterns, it has caused me to look more honestly at myself and see from Jake's perspective as well as my own, how foolish I can be at times. And I am not the only man to be self deceived, and yield to those visual and sensual sparks that zap the brain and momentarily shut down our mature, considerate, conscientious side.

After all, I get turned on multiple times each day at the sight of men on the corporate campus, in the gym, downtown, and at large social events. My antennae are huge and Jake and I talk openly about occasions when I have seen a particularly fine specimen, and I reveal to him how much I am aware of this part of my sexuality. I saw sharing these sightings with him, and getting him to talk about his own, as a way to acknowledge our daily experiences and then diffuse them. But I can also see these disclosures might be making it seem like I am constantly cruising, and ready for action all the time.

And as Jake points out, if I or other married men can live this secret double life and construct a convincing façade of loyalty to our wives, why can’t it be imagined we would allow deception to enter into our relationships with our male sexual partners?

There are plenty of stories of bi-married men or gay partnered men on the down low who are having multiple sprees within a convoluted web of layered lies. It is strange to feel repulsed by stories of that kind of behavior, yet know that from some angles, a man I care for a lot considers that I too could fall into that way of being. We are all one small lie, one tiny temptation away from what could then become a new set of infidelities.

When I cook, I notoriously use the three-second rule – food dropped on the floor can be picked up and used if one moves fast, and the health risks are then assumed nil. But quick flips out of sexual loyalty are a much greater emotional and health risk. I have been totally forthright and honest with Jake and not done anything with anyone else since I declared my intentions to him of being exclusive, after the Eduardo incident. But that one incident, not shared at the time, has created some doubts, and I see why. Words are powerful, yet fragile in the face of temptations. It is our deeds then, not our words, by which our integrity is measured.

Now that I have disclosed my time with Eduardo to you all, what do you think? Is there a possible Temptation Problem for me if I meet another bi/married guy to "just talk" about our mutual needs? As I seek out other guys like myself for potential friendship, do I need some kind of stronger emotional/sexual chastity belt, or how else can I reassure Jake that he should not worry about my falling for someone else as I try looking for friendship with other bi/gay married men?

Photos used are from the two picture blogs by Joe Blow: Cocks,Asses, and More, and Bubblicious Butts:Cocks,Asses, and More, Bubblicious Butts

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across Posted by Jayson Street and the time, and click on the word Comments. Leave your comment in the box that opens or send an e-mail.

More Bumps Ahead

2011-10-13T00:25:00.000-07:00

The A4A Debate

It’s been a long time since I boarded the Amtrak bus to head off to my weekend home. Somehow I spent much more of the summer travelling by car than by this other mode. Driving, I miss the time to let thoughts and words flow out and capture them on the laptop while someone else speeds me up the wide Salinas Valley. I sense the seasons and time of day more on the bus, perched high up with picture window views of tidy verdant rows of grapes rolling off to meet bleached dry grass spotted with cattle. Beyond that, the sudden escarpment of the mountain ridges rise, tree-covered on the rainier Pacific crest side, nakedly raw on the east side.

This is the late afternoon bus so I am catching the drama of sunset sky glow and hillsides turned to gold, scenes one cannot savor as much while driving the same route.

I have done some of my best writing (from a literary point of view) on these trips, free from the mechanics of the car. I have done some of the deeper soul searching on these bus trips which are about the only time I sit still and let big waves of emotion and piercing rays of reflection take me over. Some of it has been wrenching, then cleansing. Some of it has been simpering and self-pitying. But other times I feel lucid and strong at the end of my mobile introspections on the bus, a five-hour session of jiggling self-therapy.

And, like today, I have often had the additional visual pleasure of being seated next to or across from a beautiful specimen of young manhood. Today I deliberately took the seat not next to the young coed or traveling elder or slightly paunchy geeky guy. I went right for that seat next to the wavy brown haired, handsome and tan young guy in surfer style jammie shorts, wearing a soft white tee shirt and plugged into his I phone. How could I resist, his profile was striking and his spread-legged slouch oozed that “I dare you to touch me” masculinity.

Do guys like this take lessons from one another on how to have their longish but styled hair just slightly messed up enough to look like they just had a vigorous run and have their testosterone pumping? Do they take lessons in posturing so that their musculature shows to best advantage and their casual slump radiates a sexual heat?

This time I watch the guy next to me only infrequently as my real focus is on continuing to think about, and write about, my second kind of Adam for Adam search. And as if on metaphoric cue, the smoother part of the concrete highway has just ended and the pitted stretches with their bumpy rides have me struggling to type and keep the computer from bouncing onto the aisle floor.

I guess the languorous ride portion was the illusion, and I am back to the jolts.

As I admitted to in the last post, I’m still keeping an A4A account and checking out the site, and that continues to be a source of conversation with Jake. If I were driving, he and I would be talking for hours about this issue today. That is one advantage to doing one’s own driving; there is no fear of overheard cell phone conversations. Today I boarded the bus and called him to attempt a kind of coded conversation with him, which we have tried before. He is free to tell me the most intimate memories of our last night of robust sexual play or ask me probing questions about my view of our relationship. But with passengers all around me, I could not openly or graphically respond to his recall of our last session.

He begins by recounting my fucking him smoothly and rocking him forward and back on his new high bed, which puts his gorgeous open ass at just the perfect height for me to stand and enter him. All I can say is “yes” and “wow” and “uh-huh” and “I totally agree that was memorable” and, “So it seems like you really enjoyed that kind of workout – are you going back to your trainer for more?” Does the good-looking guy next to me really think I am talking about a buddy’s awesome gym experience?

But then he raised it again right after we talked in our one way coded style about how connected we felt once more and how this seems to each of us like a relationship that has the comfort that is usually years in the making, but the sexual heat and evolving play of a torrid new affair.

“Were you on Adam4adam again today”. Of course he already knew because he had gone on a few times himself lately and seen my profile is open. It feels like he is snooping on me. I do not even know what his A4A profile name is, and he is in a different A4A area so to find out if I am on he has to deliberately select my county or city as his member search area. But snoopy or not, I do not deny I do this and actually this has become a more prominent activity for me in the last few weeks.

Part of the reason as I said before is that I do it to fill time between short work assignments. I have gone from extreme pressure work deadlines, to a very mundane and almost boring daily routine and I admit to using frequent checking of my g-mail (the one linked to the blog), the blog, and A4A at lunch hour and at the end of the day if everyone else has left the office already. I toggle between these three options, careful to have a work document open to cover up my searches in case someone walks into my office and the 20 feet from the time I hear them to them seeing my screen. A few times I have discovered that my quick click to get off the A4A site just minimized it instead of closing it, and from another member’s perspective, it would seem I was on surfing A4A for hours.

I do it also as a new found freedom to be “bad”, meaning to exercise my right as a man much more attuned to his inner attractions to men to look and watch and take some pleasure from having some short search and chat fun. It is a kind of game that I see playing much more innocently than he does.

I mentioned to readers in my last post I have two types of searching, and the primary one is, trying to find some other married guys on the DL like myself to meet and talk to – not have sex with. This type of search I would have a difficult time letting go of, because what my blog has taught me is how lonely I can get when I am cut off from other men.

Thanks to the several guys who e-mailed me on the blog and with whom I now have pretty regular correspondence, I do have modern pen pals, and I would be in much worse shape without them, even with Jake in my life. But all the men I am in e-mail contact with are outside California, and I need to take some steps to construct a more local set of connections. This may not be Toronto, but there just have to be some other guys that would take the risk like I would to meet to talk, and not just to get some NSA sex. So for the last six months I keep looking for the few new married men coming onto A4A and try making contact.

So what is the other kind of guy I check out on A4A? This is a type of man that maybe Jake might have more concerns about but actually I am totally prepared to stop contacting this group. I look out for candidates for a possible future 3-way or 4-way tryst with Jake and me. I look for guys above 30 who seem from their profile description to reveal just a touch of class and who meet the minimum criteria for some attractiveness. A 3 or 4 way is something I would not likely try on my own, but somehow doing it with Jake seems like it could be a real experience – one I have never had actually.

I write guys that I size up as possible playmates using almost the identical words to them in the beginning phrases as I do with the down low married men:

“Hi there. We may have some interests in common. I am involved with a great gay man who I see once or twice a week and we have been exclusive for about 6 months. We have talked about the idea of a 3 way or 4 way at some time….”

There are only 3 or 4 guys in the last couple of months who made it past this exchange to the point of a mutual agreement to, “let’s stay in touch”. And so far none of them live near us on a regular basis I am kind of banking them for the possible right moment, and have described two of them to Jake already. One lives in Palm Springs and has an older lover who lives in LA, so that would only work if Jake and I do a Palm Springs trip together.

A second one lives in San Jose, which is 3 hours away and he only gets to our rural area a few times a year. A third occasionally does business trips to the region and just surfaced out of the blue this week for one day on line when he was at a local hotel and suggested Jake and I come by that night. This offer came the very day I was headed right past that very hotel down to Jakes for dinner and I was not about to suggest such an unexpected change of plans, based just on a couple rounds of chats and some terrific admirable shots.

There are a couple of gay partner couples in our area I have been in touch with off and on for months in a low key way, also with this proposition that has the important qualifier – ‘we are talking about doing this at some time in the future, but not right now’.

Yes, all these guys I have channeled into my 3 or 4 way reserve bank passed the looks and chat test, and it is true if I were not with Jake I would have worked hard to try to get a date with them myself. I find them attractive or they would not be in the bank vault. They all seemed willing to wait it out and just that alone reveals a kind of long term perspective and maturity, plus maybe some willingness to put up with a guy who is wordy and a negotiator like me.

These are not the regular A4A types. 97 percent of the men on the local site are looking for instant sexual gratification and while they may seem totally awestruck after a brief chat and picture exchange, you get dropped completely if you are not ready within the same day or two. Plus a lot of guys are so into NSA that the hunting and scoring game is what keeps them invigorated even if they have a good time with one guy

On that point, last week I got a hit from a guy whose name and profile seemed familiar but did not match my list that I kept of those I pursued before I met Jake He said he had forgotten his password so started a new profile, but that I should remember him because he had been to my house and I had given him a leather cock strap. That had to be the flooring guy who had the great body and trouble with cumming too fast, within minutes of starting sex. “Yep, that’s me” he replied, “I am really horny, are you free tonight." His old profile had emphasized his amazing cock sucking skills, but the new one focused on what a great bottom he was.

Jake might really like this guy’s body and so I gave him my stock reply about “I have this great gay man I am seeing now…but if you are ever interested in…”

He replied instantly with, “Man, I would love a 3 way with the two of you and you could be working my two holes at the same time”. I can testify to the good mouth action this man can give – I had to get him to back off me because I was afraid he would make me cum too soon. But it turned out he had the hair trigger problem. I had not gotten into his ass as he shot his load just as I was starting to rim and finger him. This was almost a year ago, long before I met Jake in person.

But who knows if Jake will go for him, if and when we decide to look at the portfolio of candidates. Floor man was hot for action that night but may not be a very secure asset in the bank of potential 3 and 4 way guys. And the fact I was playing this kind of game and starting the A4A “future tryst bank account,” even though for the purpose of Jake and I together having some new kind of fun, has upset Jake. So now I have offended the very man I had imagined I would show the portfolio to. I had started this as a bit of a secret surprise imagining having fun picking out the right asset to take out of the vault and invite into one of our homes for some action. It has not gone as planned.

At one time Jake said, maybe what we ought to do is invite his former lover, a married bi/gay man also, to join us for some sex if we were to go for a 3-way.“He is, after all, a man I know and whose sexuality I understand” was his rationale. Even though it was Jake who had ended the affair, and his former lover was let go in part because he could not seem to be honest with Jake about what place Jake had in his life, Jake seemed to feel fine about offering for our first 3 way adventure that man. This was in part because he was a known entity and there was some familiarity and trust. Plus I think Jake is much more cautious about doing it with a total stranger, which I can understand given his sense of boundaries and his concern about disease.

So here we are, a kind of game that I admit I had not examined the impulses behind has made our communication tense, and once again we have no ability to have a private conversation about this whole topic for several days.

I had a great time with Jake on Thursday night before the bus ride, and we both avoided all talk of this looming A4A issue as we focused on just enjoying one another’s company and sexual pleasure. It can feel so good when we are together and we are so drawn to one another in the real flesh. Then not long after I have departed we have a phone call and the darker doubts and concerns surface. We talk or see one another every weekday night so when I count real time together (26 hours when we do 2 nights a week) plus about an hour a night on the phone and sometimes an hour each way on a long drive – I am close to spending as much time with him as with my wife.

To me this is extraordinary, and certainly provides evidence I really like him. But he has a lot more free time than me and lots of time when I am out of contact for 2 or 3 days and so it must feel different to him, and that is where this A4A habit hits him I surmise. It erodes the sense that he is my sole real male focus, and makes him worry I might just go ahead and have sex with either of my search types, the bi married guy, or the hot man into possible 3 or 4 way stuff and seemingly willing to wait for a joint invitation.

I know I have deceived myself many times before about what my real motives are – the rational thinking man may have a much harder time letting the real truth of his unconsciousness come out. Rationalizations are the Achilles heel of many an otherwise moral and sensitive man. And if we are on the down low and acting out an unleashed fantasy life with one man, might he not have some reason for wondering if deceit and wanderlust and the offerings on the world wide web might create another opportunity to get swept up in sex. If we are so able to bounce out of the bed we share with our wives into the bed of our current male lover, are we not subject to unexpected bounces and jolts we can pretend were not of our making, but landed us in some other man’s bed along the highway of promiscuity?

All the pictures here except the 3-way pictures are from a blog of male photos started by Jack Scott, Jack Scotts Bisexual Buddies Pictures

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the words "posted by jaysonstreet at...time" shown below and the word Comments will appear and open up a comment box.

Diversions

2011-10-05T08:34:00.000-07:00

Rough Spot

Jake and I have hit a kind of bump in the road, and I hope that it is a temporary rough stretch. It was triggered by my talking about how I still keep an Adam4Adam account, and check it periodically. I do this for two reasons and have not hid this from him in the past, but I think the fact I was doing it at a time I was out of contact with him and with my wife made it seem like subterfuge, as if I was not content with him alone. I look online to see if there are any new guys joining in this very small area - maybe one or two a week come on board as new members and most are the younger college guys.

My first reason is, I am looking for the rare new guy who is older and gives out enough profile information about being discrete, new to this, not out, or otherwise uses code words that imply he is married or with a girlfriend and on the down low.
None of these guys have pictures, another clue to their ambivalence. Some do use the work bi, but that happens only a few times a year.

I write them and say a variation on the following:
"Hi there, we may have some things in common. I am currently seeing a great gay man and we have been in an exclusive relationship for 6 months. I find though that I need to connect to other men who are married and, like me, keeping this side of myself secret. If you are interested in meeting to just talk, and share perspectives and experiences, I would enjoy that."

A couple of men in the last 4 months have said, yes, lets meet, and I had coffee with one and took a hike with another. One of those guys was a complete motor mouth and self obsessed and now separated and pursuing a married man with whom there is much drama. Scratch him off my list. The other seemed to be eager to talk, a married professional with 2 kids and in his late 40's or early 50's. I had not followed up much with him since we met 2 months ago, but then he sent a message via Adam4Adam and we have discussed a possible evening get together - less than 2 hours faked on his part as an after work meeting.

Am I doing this unconsciously to find another married man for sex? I don't think so, but it is true that when I set out to find a guy to mess around with here locally, my search model was another bi married man. I never thought I would find a connection as deep and emotionally entwining as the one I found with Jake, and sometimes it scares me that we totally fit together the way we do.

So is it possible that under the innocent surface of saying I want to meet guys like myself to start making some new friends, I am setting up a sabotage of my relationship with Jake. He has postured that it may be I am showing my interest in finding someone "better" for me, and that given my documented history prior to him, maybe I would fall for one of those allegedly platonic dates.

We are trying to talk this through now. And I need to delve into my motives more. I have shared with him as honestly as I can what my needs are and why I do this. But he is challenging me, and ought to do that, on getting me to be honest with myself about the underlying urges.

There is a lot more about this occasional need I feel to go on Adam4Adam and check out who is new and while on, reply to whomever hits me up. I have a second type of search and reason I will describe later. But with this urge I have to check out new married men coming on line, is it just an innocent way to feel less isolated? Even if I tell everyone I write to about Jake and being exclusive, I am on that site. I do it when I am wanting to avoid piles of work or home repair projects staring at me like scary monsters in the closet.

But maybe I still have some of my own scary monsters in my closet, a side of myself that has gotten totally into watching men all the time everywhere, an overcompensation for keeping this all under wraps for decades. Do I need to keep working through this in a way that would be seen as, or actually be, disrespectful to Jake? On some level, am I undercutting this great thing I have because I am inherently the kind of guy that needs constant new adventures, Internet flirts that become real sexual dates even while denying that motive? That seems so adolescent and undeveloped and insensitive. Or is it a form of bi ADD?

As I try to sort this out, he is taking time to work through his own feelings about my continued disclosure of the A4A roamings.

All the pictures here are from a special blog of male photos started by Jack Scott. Check it out, the pictures are terrific. Here is the link:Jack Scotts Bisexual Buddies Pictures
To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the words "posted by jaysonstreet at...time" shown below and the word Comments will appear and open up a comment box.

More and More Guys Like Me

2011-09-27T17:33:00.000-07:00

Resonance with Other Men

This will be an uncharacteristic short post. I am into a rhythm of blogging barely once a week or ten days, as both work and my relationship with Jake beckon and my time to be reflective and creative about all this diminishes. I have to admit this is really a kind of contented period, and perversely it seems, the lack of gigantic emotional waves and unfulfilled desires has lessened the need to write.

In the midst of this though, I have been contacted by a few new e-mail men who have come forth with the all-too-familiar story of discovering their sexual attraction to men, after a decade or more of marriage, at around age 40, and now being in various early stages of trying to understand this inner desire, accept it, and then, perhaps take that huge leap and act on it. I will not disclose the identity of these men, but their writing about themselves is so raw and lucid and I feel I want to reach out and reassure them with a hug and a tall glass of cold been and say, talk to me, talk to me, you have to talk to me or someone and get up and over this huge hump.

I can look back on that first period of climbing the rocky hill of self-acceptance now and know I will never slide back down again. Who would have thought looking at the mess I was in and my early blog entries I would somehow become a self taught “expert” of sorts, at least further along the path than others enough to reach out a hand to help. Of course I am still looking ahead for role models, wishing I had met someone like Jack Scott decades ago for instance, and still stuck staring at those four damned doors I wrote about a couple of months ago.

That four door piece I never posted was so depressing because at the time it seemed that opening each one was to start down a hallway of depression and ultimate doom. Perhaps a piece best kept for Halloween.

Sometimes a fellow blogger writes a piece that seems to make me feel a real resonance with them, and the best I can do is not write some tome of my own, but link to them. As regular readers know, I slowly and irrevocably wound down sex with my wife about 17 years into our marriage, and after three years of no sex with her and hyped up fantasies and Internet masturbation sessions focused on gay and MMF sex, I began an affair with a man. At the time I felt bad about my lack of desire for my wife, and only later discovered what British sitcom humor has told us all along – a huge number of marriages are sexless regardless of the man’s orientation, and it is one of the biggest un-discussed topics among men.

BiLikeMe had written before about his surprise at finding that many of the 40ish men in his married circle of straight friends are in essentially sexless marriages. And then on Tuesday, September 27, he reveals he himself has not had sex with his wife for 3 years, corresponding to the beginning of his acting out his sexual fantasies with men. Here is the link:

Bi Like Me Tuesday September 27 post

So what do we all think about his speculation about diminished sex with a wife, discovery of great sex with men, and what this may have to do with being gay or bi? And isn’t there a kind of yin-yang phenomenon here for many of us – the desire for her fell as fantasies of men arose, and if the situation allows, we act on those male fantasies – the kind of “opportunistic/situational bisexual” behavior that researchers find is common with many “bi” men. I no longer care, nor does Bi Like Me, for what the label is..are we bi, are we really in transition to being all gay? The interesting thought is, if we were not married, what would we do and would women still be on the radar or would it be all gaydar. Interestingly, reading his story it made me realize I can imagine that if not married, I might actually go for some sex with a new woman. But then, I would really go for sex with men so much more openly too.

And if Jake were in my life, as we tasted on one shared short vacation, I could be public in holding his hand and kissing him and slapping his firm ass and not caring what anyone thought looking at us. I could finally be that part of myself - able to show sexual attraction for and maybe even love for a man. But maybe I would resume being a public bisexual and have women as lovers too.

Any of the rest of you able to relate to his story, or imagine that kind of fluid bi/gay sexual future for your self IF you were not currently married?

And which fall beauty are you thinking of tonight?

All pictures including foliage from:

http://sickoricko.blogspot.com/

Jake and Sexual Pleasure

2011-09-19T21:07:00.000-07:00

It Keeps on Growing

Part One-Looking Back

It’s been a long while since I wrote about the intimate time I am spending with a man. One reason I have not written volumes about Jake is that I am spending all my time with Jake and very little reflecting or narrating. And there is an intimacy and closeness that in some ways I want kept off the big screen. But for those of you wondering, just what that time with Jake is like, I end this two part post with some details about the night last week that marked the 6-month point in our relationship, and the 1 year date in my starting to date and have sex with men.

Looking back, beginning last September I wrote prolifically and poetically about some single nights with a man with whom I had unlocked passion, but never another encounter. A few I speculated could turn into something more, and projected some building of intensity over time, only to have one or the other of us find limits to that second or third night stand. It was part of that necessary first phase of a driving need to hunt and find and fuck. And it did have genuine moments of connections and pleasure. But it was not sustainable.

I was not falling in love over and over back then, but I was certainly falling into a hyper-sexualized existence where each contact unlocked such sexual heat that the embers glowed for days. I was enthusiastically “out” to myself for the first time since I married 25 years ago, and surprised at the ease with which in those heady days of intense internet cruising, I was able to score. The rhapsodic written elation looks so sophomoric in hindsight, but for someone in my life situation, to have leapt into this manhunt with such vigor, and manage to have some very physically desirable men find me attractive was exhilarating. And to reach orgasmic heights together with a range of married and single men, bi and gay men, after so many years of repression, was electric.

That period had its documented ups and downs, some shitty dates, and then it was abruptly interrupted as a family member health crisis caused me to pull back and almost cease all further exploration.

Then I met Jake. The timing was extraordinary. I had finished a period of quasi-adolescent thrill seeking and had about exhausted the pool of acceptable and willing men in my area. And the kicks one gets from the chase and catch game had worn off. I knew all along I did not want to have an endless string of short term NSA sex, but mostly that was what everyone else seemed to be into. And what once was exotic and new soon became hollow as well as more difficult to pursue.

The sobering demise of men and partial plunge in self esteem had hit around the beginning of the year while I was on my self enforced “sexual sabbatical”, as a sense of being trapped in a pergatory of dead-end options overtook me. I needed to stay away from men anyway to focus on other pressing issues, and this had a kind of withdrawl effect, which I did not fully understand at the time. I had become addicted to men, and felt bad about that drive even as I missed the contact and knew I could never swear them off altogether.

Yet through that period, Jake and I talked and wrote and a kind of friendship began. I felt so able to talk to him about what I was going through. Some other new on-line men friends like Tom in Cleveland encouraged me to value this emerging relationship with Jake. And then Jake began sharing some of his own darker thoughts and ambivalent feelings about the vaunted “gay lifestyle” with me.

We entered a period of honest dialogues and found some similar traits, despite our apparent “orientation differences”. He is an openly gay man with his own set of wild early experiences and later more long term relationships, who still has a sense of alienation from some components of the Castro style culture, and from a gay world that does not include women.

He has straight couple and women friends, more than gay friends, and had one-multiyear relationship with a married man a few years back. He is not a typical “out and proud” gay man living mostly among other gay men, and that seemed a point of connection for us.

We seemed to get one another as men who had each in our own way not fit into the stereotype of our apparent mainstream role – me as a husband/father and he as a creative gay single man. And while we each had the experience of porn fantasy hot sex with strangers under our belt, our current sexual nature was so much more focused on finding a man who appreciated and wanted a kind of intimate body and soul embrace that most gay/bi men we had encountered in our rural areas were not pursuing.

All these personal revelations we had shared and discussed before we ever met in person. So it was not as if I was motoring into the arms of a stranger the weekend I planned to finally visit him in mid-March.

The week of September 12 was our 6-month anniversary of that first night I rolled into his gravel drive after dark, on the way home from a Los Angeles business trip. That first night I walked into his place full of mixed emotions about finally meeting this man with whom I had been having long phone calls and even some phone sex for a few months. It was a plan with a marginally effective escape valve. Would it be a visit after 9 PM and the possibility of having to drive almost another hour to make my own place? Or would it be an overnight stay, with a cleared morning calendar and the ability to ease into the office at 11 AM with no one knowing I had left LA the night before, instead of using the morning to make the drive?

Driving toward his place last Thursday, I flashed back to that first night when we each so quickly sized one another up and were embracing and kissing within less than an hour. And that first night of forceful attraction was manifested in some of the most passionate kissing and body touching I have had with any other person. This showed me this was possibly going to be different. We had intense sex that first night, although true to past patterns for me, I did not cum. But the feeling I had was so intense without an orgasm it overshadowed many of the actual cum blasts I have considered great. And I left the next morning grinning. This might have a chance of being more than a short fling.

Part Two - Looking Forward

We did not mark last Thursday as a special day, but it turned out to be one of the best nights and mornings of sexual pleasure I have ever had. I spoke with him afterward and shared a feeling I had a hard time framing, and then hesitated to present to him.

I have been so in awe of his sensuality, his moans and screams at the way I suck and then quickly bite his nipple, or run my tongue into his ear and then lift his arm and get him to squirm and groan as I lick his armpits.

He is so masculine, but has a thin layer of soft smooth skin over his musculature that responds to my touch almost as women have done for me. He reveals and revels in something I can only call his interior femininity – that ability to be a receptor of pleasure and passion and emit intense emotional release at being touched and caressed. This is not about being a women, or wanting to wear women’s clothes or play a kind of female/bottom role to the dominant male partner. This is about being in touch with a side of one’s humanness that is suppressed in most men.

If we all have a mix of the masculine and feminine within us, regardless of our gender and sexual orientation, I seem drawn to men who are not afraid of showing both sides of themselves. After I told him of my thoughts about his emotional/sensual nature, he pointed out that is a quality I seem to have as well, and I guess he is right and I never had considered it for myself. Jake showed no defensiveness about my sharing this insight with him. And it may be that this way we each seem to have a somewhat integrated masculine/feminine self is what gives rise to the kind of passion we have together, something that has not been so present in most of our past sexual relationships.

It is what allows us to be honestly versatile, taking each sexual encounter as an unfolding in the moment of the dynamic that arises between us. I could not have imagined with any other man finding the act of taking his cock into my ass so painless and so masculine. And we may both flip back and forth in the same night of play, never really planning who will assume which position when, but letting our bodies and our intense desire take us there.

He has taught me much about feeling free to bring toys into our play and vocalizing fantasies about being in other roles or pretending there are other men with us or watching us as we get it on. And he says he has learned some things from me too, although I hardly feel I am in the teacher in this relationship. He has begun probing my ass with his fingers while he strokes and sucks me and the way he moves in there and wiggles and slides about has brought such unexpected intensity to the orgasms.

And he loves laying down and playing with me as I stand or kneel over his chest, gasping at the view of my cock bobbing around rock hard and vein popping as he brings me to enormous cum shots. We have tried dildos and cock rings and ball hangers, and with or without the paraphernalia the sex keeps getting hotter and better.

An inexpensive rubber cock ring I picked up this week on a whim turned out to make my manhood seem to engorge to unprecedented size and hardness. We were both astounded at the way that huge member slid into his very tight ass and we bonded in that most intimate of manly positions for longer than we had ever been able to do before. Then as we shifted to other positions as he needed to slide off my engorged cock, it was my turn to work my mouth and tongue all over his uncut cock, getting him to writhe and bounce on his squeaky bed as his pre-cum began spurting.

On and on we sucked and fucked and groped and ass licked and I felt as if my genitals had swollen into a red hot steel mass with millions of sense receptors all hitting my brain with the most intense pleasure zaps. Not long after he bucked and exploded as I licked his cock head and massaged his ball sac, he snapped out of his deserved reverie and my embrace to grab hold of my still engorged cock and take me into his world.

Soon he was pumping his well lubed fingers in my eager ass and I arched back groaning as he sucked and stroked and shouted out images of young men all around us, astounded to see this sexual act and beating themselves off at the erotic show we were giving them. Then the surge started and my knees started to buckle as three huge ropes of creamy cum shot all over his chin and face and he caught the last load in his hungry mouth. I screamed out and collapsed on his sticky chest, and we passed mouthfuls of cum in our tongues as we snowballed in our tight sweaty embrace.

And this was just the nighttime play, there was a surprise spontaneous next act in the morning. Fuck, this kind of sex is so powerful and so different than any I have ever had with a woman, much as some of that sex with women and my wife was fantastic and memorable too.

What Jake and I have, I could not have dreamed of when I began this journey with men a year ago. It is at a peak, and still gets better and better, as we are so comfortable in our play and so honest and direct with one another about everything.

He accepts my assertion that I do not see myself as a bottom, even as I have found it easier and more pleasurable each time I try letting him in me or I ride his rigid cock. I don’t get that prostate generated orgasm some men seem to get, but it has shifted from benign tolerance to a fun ride for me, and the way it turns him on and most recently brought him to amazing orgasm feels so good.

He and I know we have to open him up more and realize our shared dream of having me finally get to the point of orgasm in him. But we are not typing one another top or bottom or dominant or submissive. We are two men enthralled at the way our masculine/feminine whole body desires seem so well satisfied by one another. And we have lots of positions to try and thrills to have as we just make love to one another from some inner place of pure animal lust.

In a cell phone conversation we had as I was driving northward for a weekend away, I was still able to feel that cock of his in me when just as I was starting to shower at his place, he yanked me back to the bedroom with a huge hard-on and an invitation to hot morning sex. And we had the most amazing twenty minute session that culminated with me riding him, my hard dick bouncing and flinging pre-cum on the floor, as he shot a big load up into me.

He had texted me earlier that the night had been truly astounding and I left a voice mail message sharing his sense that this had been an incredible time for us. We were laughing with pleasure at recounting our play in that phone call, but he turned a bit serious toward the end and turned to what we had said, not just what we had done.

“ I don’t really know Jayson whether to call it love, what I feel for you. But whatever it is, I know we are having some of the best sex I have ever had in my life”. A week ago, he sensed me back off a bit when he said “I adore you.” Sometimes he does say it in the tender moments as we embrace after our sexual pinnacle, “I love you” or “I adore you”. I can call him lover and yet have a difficult time saying that I love him back, even though a few times swept up in the raw emotion of it all, I have told him that I do love him.

We have talked about how I cannot yet fathom calling what I feel love in that more permanent, big picture way, in large part because I cannot imagine using the word Love for more than one person at a time. We have this unequal status in which I am not free to exclusively love him, while he can love me with no lurking rivals or historical vows and commitments.

“I don’t know what to call it either Jake, but what we have is extraordinary, and if I was not married or partnered, I know I could call this love and be free to be demonstrative with you in public.”

“At this point, we would be talking about moving in with one another” he said, meaning if I were not attached to anyone. I had not considered that, and I was taken off guard by that comment for an instant. I had lots of relationships before I married, a long 17 year period from college to the wedding, and only once before I moved in with my wife after a year of dating had I ever considered sharing households. That one exception was right after college and I moved in briefly with my girlfriend Liz with whom I dared share that I was kind of attracted to some men, and she shared her similar attraction to some women.

I am not a guy to jump lightly into someone else’s life that way. But when I considered what Jake meant, that we were pretty serious with one another and the next step when things go this well is to see what sharing a house might be like, I had to agree. That is of course not really possible, but the point is there is some connection we have that is very rare and for many people this is the kind of precondition to trying out a larger kind of commitment….sharing domestic life.

It may not be “Love” and it may not be ready for “Domestic Bliss”. But we both know this is amazing sex we are having, because we are so drawn to one another body and soul. In the moment, it is about being astounded at the sexual beauty and erotic power we see in one another’s body, looking at one another’s throbbing cocks, feeling one another’s asses and chests, kissing one another everywhere. In the moment it is all physical and that releases enormous supercharged emotional power too.

In the moment our bodies leap at one another, claw to get at one another’s nakedness, probe and prowl to make that manhood hard and oozing and finally to blast semen out and send us into spasms and shudders.

In the moment I am completely intertwined with him. And then the moments end and I drive or he drives away, each of us back into our other realities until we can find the next moments to be our true selves. To once again try to realize that most human of needs with one another....whatever it is called, however it is pursued, whether it is visible to any other souls or not.

September Song

2011-09-10T13:02:00.000-07:00

Do The Days Dwindle Down?

Work and home life have taken more time. And now my two nights per weeks with Jake are taking more time too. I am less alone, less blue, less searching for direction with my wandering mind and my wild laptop finger pecking. There is a regular rhythm to the days and weekends that breeds a sense of wellbeing. So what’s to worry about, as they say?

I am not the kind of guy to ever feel completely fulfilled and satisfied. I can still wonder what will come of all this, a period in my life that feels like a calm before a next brewing storm, a rare hiatus in a life of perpetual searching. But for now, I am basking in a radiant September glow and have no time to think or write much about it. I am just living it as it comes without reflection or regret. And I am living it without wanderlust.

I have written previously about the wanderlust that was such a feature of my pre-marital life, and how it came back with an associated yearning for men a decade ago. The wanderlust and dissatisfaction was held at bay for 15 years of marriage by the real genuine joy of having a son and raising him. I still am renewed by irregular dinners with him once a month or so, the recent grad with a job, good friends, and a life full of meaning and fun. A young man so much different than I was at that same age, although a brooder and a thinker at times too.

Those positive fifteen years of the marriage and the child rearing were real – so why now with the empty post-college young man’s bedroom still bearing his smell and thumb tacked memorabilia, does it feel like that fifteen years was the great exception?

Married with child, that was not just a status on a tax form, that was an identity with a real joyful center. Married and empty nester…now that new status has me searching for a joyful center all over again. I am past the May in my life, and it is September. And I am entwined body to body with a man twice a week. Is all now resolved?

Raising my baby boy to become a man kept me so focused on him and family and community. The male desire was easily kept at bay, easily prevented too much idle time that later on pornographic thoughts and pursuits took over. I was whole and complete for a long time with him in the house, but as the teen year needs for me waned, my male fantasies waxed. Now that he is gone, living in our same city but gone forever from this home, I fill the vacant spaces that were son-centered activities with my new recreational interest. Men. One man. Jake.

I wonder if all this would be happening had I been the kind of guy that plunged into regular social/physical action: bicycling, hiking, tennis, golf, and surfing. If I had an obsessive hobby or sport, would I be less obsessive in trying to act out my attractions to men? Or would I find some other avenue for the outlets if I were more able to keep sublimating the pent up desire? Not that I deny the real desire is there. Its just become so big, and other parts of my life feel so diminished.

Maybe part of this feeling is that I am in many ways a loner despite the gregarious exterior and over programmed couples social life. So much of what I do for non-sexual pleasure I do alone – like writing, drawing, going to the gym solo. I need to cultivate male friendships and pursue more sport and activities with other men. Some of my isolation comes from working in a town 5 days a week that is not my home with my wife. But even when that was not the case, I look back at how passive I was in cultivating male friendship outside the couple’s circle. I held back, and the more this inner secret boiled up inside me, the less I shared my interior life with buddies. Now my closest friend in many ways is Jake, one of the few men with whom I can be my real self.

How strange to consider that in pursuing sex with men, I have uncovered another void that I must also do something about to feel more whole and complete. I need more male friends with whom I can be my true self. I have a group of old men friends I see every couple of months, but they know nothing about who I really am. There are other guys I see for drinks or a movie or a game of tennis or coffee here and there, outside the couple’s gatherings. But they know nothing about who I really am either. Besides Jake, only one older friend knows about my current life. The newer friendships that have grown out of the blog have been critical to helping me combat my sense of loneliness and isolation. But outside the blog world with the new e-mail connections I have made, I am still alone. It is hard to counter my long developed tendency to not risk new friendships, and to not stretch old ones.

I am not yet ready to risk a disclosure to one of my older male friends. If I dared, it would start with that particular one I will call Sam with whom I have already exchanged stories about my “sexual exploration” before marriage, and he reciprocated with a tale of his own gay experimentation as a college student. But we let this be a revelation of a distant past, with both of us now in long term relationships with women. I doubt Sam could keep the secret from our group of guy buddies, and the risk is high of this spreading back to my wife so I am holding back for now.

So where do I go with this newly found identity full of the same old fears of discovery? It is September, a month I often find myself looking back and wondering, where did those promised heady days of summer go. The nation looks back a decade to a horrendous September morning that shook us all out of the haze and drift of the prior era. My own looking back seems of so much less importance, but we each have to contend with our own private histories and futures, even as we are part of the big sweep of events that shape the world at large. One thing in common- the age of innocence is gone, and an element of fear and uncertainty has grown up around us.

One year ago in September I returned from a Labor Day vacation and began real explorations with Adam4Adam men. By the end of September I had my first sexual encounter with a man in over five years. After an often manic period of luring, dating, and assessing over a dozen guys, I found Jake 6 months ago, and I feel so much more content and centered.

But the clock is ticking, time is flying by. And just as I have reached a plateau of incomparable pleasure and self-acceptance, I begin to wonder about the future. How many more years to go like this? My northern European curse is to start feeling melancholy and the loss of sunlight from September on, and take it as a metaphor for shrinking life opportunities. I am not, like my son, in the May of my life, I am in September. I am sharing this September with Jake, enjoying the moments, but at the same time feeling this is a rarified and fragile time of life for me. And the dimming of the summer sun, the cooler nights, the final browning of the landscape of California reminds me how close winter is. The beach crowds are gone, but for the few diehards tanning up before the winter pales take our color away. Is is September.

As Kurt Weill wrote in that classic “September Song”:

Oh it’s a long long time,

From May to December.

But the days grow short

When you reach September.

When the autumn weather

Turns the leaves to flame

One hasn’t got time

For the waiting game

Oh, The days dwindle down,

To a precious few.

September….

November….

And these precious days

I’ll spend with you.

These precious days

I’ll spend with you

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below, and click on the word Comment to open a comment box.

Vacation Views

2011-08-18T08:29:00.000-07:00

Fade Out, Fade In

I was on vacation for ten days, then returned for a half-week of work trying to keep the sense of calm and focus that I seem to gain by being away. The break was restorative, yet also brought into sharper light my daily rhythm of eyeing other guys or thinking about being in some other place, with maybe some other person. I was in the world of other married couples mostly on that trip but not totally engaged with them. There is much I value about this life with her and old married friends, yet invariably I have regular “fade-out” and “snap-back” periods even when in their company.

They are triggered several ways. One way I get distracted, with my wife as much as when I am alone, is by the sight of a good looking man who triggers that sexual magneto needle. It can zap me to the point that I will even make up some reason to follow that guy down the supermarket aisle or through the tourist store or along the path, with my eyes and sometimes with my footsteps.

This vacation trip had fewer such episodes in part because we were not in locations overflowing with men under 45. Still, that guy with the “Seattle Fire Department” T shirt in the show-it-off tank top had me hooked, even with two kid in tow. There were dozens of others, more than one a day. I see a lot of young college guys during my workdays, but in the gym and on vacations, I know I am cruising married men who are fathers. In fact, I find married Dads who exude a kind of confident maleness and sexual appeal are quite the turn on, maybe because I project some simmering bi-curiosity onto them.

A second way I seem to float away is when we are having some down time reading, and within the compelling alternative world of literature I encounter a character who is sexually pent up and emotionally wrought up in a way that equates to what I feel myself– even if they are not necessarily a gay or bi male character. Lately I have found such characters in reading John Updike and Annie Proulx who each in their very different styles and types of stories capture the intense sexual interiors of men.

I finally tackled Jonathan Franzen’s novel Corrections on this trip and he gets and conveys that itchy restless and often irrational sexual drive too. His book is all about three grown siblings who each in their own way has a conflation of relationship and career/home life crises that each have palpable sexual frustration. The sister Denise pursues a man and his wife at the same time, and discovers she really does dig women more than she ever imagined, albeit we still sense in her a bisexual orientation. I get engrossed in reading and want to find more good novels with gay or bi protagonists. It is one way I try to look for role models and lessons and understanding about the human sexual and relationship condition I find myself in.

While staying with some friends whose own marriage is painfully full of tensions, and likely of a sexual kind too, I plowed through their “1001 Great Books to Read Before You Die” and copied down several that are landmark explorations of male gay or bisexual characters.

Andre Gide’s 1902 “The Immoralists is perhaps the most provocative on the list. Gide sired a child by young woman, but most of his life had a male lover. The book follows the internal strife and uneasy transformation of a straight laced married French colonialist in Africa into a hedonist who pursues Arab boys. It is a critique of French notions of morality while also revealing some of the darker side of sexual obsession. I read it decades ago and must reread it.

I furtively copied down several from the quick perusal I did, and have not even made it past the 90’s after which I just expect more mainstream works considered great literature contain openly gay characters. These are the titles of books I have to be circumspect about - but feel I need to read even if outside the watching eyes of my wife.

A third way I found myself drifting away from the moments of married vacation life was in the few daytime pre nap fantasies and two vivid dreams I had when my wife was asleep. I keep wishing I felt more erotically connected to her, and this vacation had been slated as a chance for me to really invest some time rediscovering her attraction and feminine allure. It was pleasant enough, but we both started the trip exhausted from work and home renovations, so sleep was our strongest animal desire. And in that drowsy place, on the way into my own nocturne even as I was sometimes touching her dormant body, my unfettered mind turned to Jake several times, or to random images of sensual moments with men.

So I guess I am not as easily keeping these two worlds in separate compartments.

There were some wonderful moments with her on the vacation no doubt, but several times each day the pull from that other world took me away, even if for a brief sojourn. This awareness is stronger on weekends or vacations when we are supposed to be doing our couple things together. I fade out, I snap back, and I have probably been doing this more of my marriage than I recall. Sometimes I can treat this with pleasure and humor as just one of my secret delights, and not let it worry me. But other times it makes me feel bad about the distancing this creates.

I talked to my shrink about this recently. He agrees that it is just a human pastime as people watching and fantasizing is in our nature. I cannot stop what is in me, but I can accept it and learn to not have it take away from those I love. I should smile and savor this for what it is – my animal lust and desire letting itself have some fun and innocent outlet.

But it is a distraction still, reminding me of the curtains and walls we secretive men construct and live behind, that I have written about before. If I should choose the door that leads to never-ending secret affairs on the side, ‘til death (or divorce) part us, there will be each day those fadeouts and snapbacks that create the permanent distancing. On good days, I will try to have a sense of a graceful self-acceptance about this. But on most days, it ends with a wince and a little more of that feeling of sneakiness that feels like water torture that cannot go on forever.

Photos are from the website Hunk du Jour

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and click on the word Comments to open a box

Upsurges Continued

2011-08-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

Higher Levels, Part 2

Last Tuesday night we watched Brokeback Mountain together in large scale Blue Ray clarity at Jakes. We oscillated between talking about the painful fate those men faced, and caressing one another in synch with the tender moments they had on screen. We held hands through much of the movie, moved by empathy to tear up along with Heath Ledger as he held his dead lovers shirt as the only remnant of a genuine loving relationship he had in an otherwise bleak slide into emotional and financial impoverishment in his adulthood.

Then when the film was over, the urge for manly naked sizzling life-affirming sex overwhelmed us instantly. We tore at one another’s clothes and jolted along a frenzy driven route all over the sofa and coffee table. This was bright lights, all showing sweaty sex - spotlighted by the overhead light track as if we were in front of 2000-watt movie lights filmed by a panting crew of ten. Lucky that his beige fabric sofa can absorb and mask the potential stains of saliva, lube, precum, and jizz, which must have been splattered all over the furniture as we lurched and sprang and gripped and dragged one another from position to position.

The shudders and quivers and masculine outcries as we reached our pinnacles were surely felt and heard by the straight upstairs tenant, and maybe by the adjacent gay cottage owner too. For once in his acoustically permeable compound of apartments and homes, we made no effort to keep the noise down. And those bright lights made it even wilder. I guess the real performer extrovert in me got wound up enough to overcome my general inclination to dim lights, capacious beds, and washable cotton sheets. A few glimpses of us fucking and sucking that I randomly caught in his large wall mirror convinced me we could have turned this into a video and gotten a great audience. Sometimes we find ourselves having sex and able to watch ourselves that way and it is really a big hard-on booster.

I may not have had that final fountain of cum shoot out like he did, but I was left shaking and shuddering even more than after many orgasms. I clenched him toward me, panting hard and slipping rapidly from still firing nerve endings into a sexually infused catatonia. He had to muster the energy of two to extract himself from under me and then peel me off the sofa and head us into the bedroom.

Exhausted and satiated by the combination of an incredible dinner and post film sex, we got turned on giving one another a long good night kiss, and this reignited some sex play before rolling over, cuddling, and falling to sleep. Then the next morning, I initiated a round of pre-coffee sex that completely surprised both of us, given my stated need to dash off quickly at dawn. I was rock hard and playfully teased around with his compelling ass as he bent over the bathroom sink trying to brush his teeth. Then the move sparked instant lust and he took little work to open up fully and accept my throbbing morning erection.

If I did not have to leave for a work meeting, this would have been just the prelude to hours of more sexual play. We could have let our natural rhythms of springing steel hard then softening then getting huge again shape the kind of play we made. Someday we will make that time for morning sex. As it was, we left each other with the preview feel of having one another’s magnificent manhoods in each other’s willing assess for a brief intimate sharing that spoke to our innate versatility.

We began our dating with some assumptions about one another’s primary preferences or default positions based on profiles and chats and phonecalls. I was the newly defined top, he was the marginally more frequent bottom. But all is fluid and adaptable between us now as we go with the positions that our bodies take us toward in the moment. And we keep coming back to intense kissing and body licking as the first and last act and the one sure way we know we connect intensely.

How can this be, that my search for the ultimate sexual release with men that started as a manic multiple-man journey of sexual explosion, (measured in ejaculatory quality and volume) has now become the pursuit of hours of non-orgasmic sexual play? How can a once pressing need to have just genital sex have been transmuted into a drive for kissing and caressing and holding with a wonderful, deep, thoughtful, caring man?

Sex was the draw but now one man’s being, beyond the draw his body, has my full attention. One man has me walking high above the pavement and soaring toward his open arms regularly. One man has opened me up further than any other human being, with the exception of my dear wife in the first decade of our marriage. And one man gets me to go back over and over even as I sometimes present all the same hang-ups and orgasm clutches of shyness and self-consciousness that tormented me in my marriage bed.

We have had a notable upsurge in our playful explorations. I have a much greater ability to be completely relaxed and experimental and vocal and ask for what I want. This has me feeling so good, there has been a marked upsurge in my positive feelings about all other parts of my life.

And by wonderful coincidence, I see an upsurge in men discovering this site and sharing personal tales and engaging in honest and mature debate and discussion about what being guys like me can mean…to ourselves, to our sexual mates, to our wives, and to one another. The personal world and the blog world are on parallel paths.

It is likely all a coincidence, but I will still take this as a good sign that my decision to become exclusive with Jake, and carve out two nights a week to be with him, was so right. This has moved me forward in self-acceptance and understanding, not just in pleasure. And this is being played out in a broader context of seeing other men’s alternative paths and sensing some future positive way out of this still secret chamber of delights. And perhaps most critical for over-thinking often brooding me, there is an upsurge of hope.

Heath Ledger

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and click on the word Comments to open a comment box.
I am on vacation through August 10 so will have limited time to respond to comments.
All pictures except Heath Ledger are from the site: Sicko Ricko's Crap

Upsurge

2011-08-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

Higher Levels, Part 1

The last few posts have generated a real upsurge in comments. Significantly, the last one attracted two women who each weighed in on their own perspectives about husbands finding changing sexual preferences and how the process of that self-discovery, action, and revelations affected their marriages.

Jack Scott’s newly linked blog and Bob’s lengthy comments have added new stories about different ways men like us have faced their new nature and either terminated their marriages, or have managed a kind of resolution that kept the marriage intact.

This dialogue is so vital and provocative in a healthy way, and is also taking place during a period of time when I seemed to have reached another stage in my understandings about myself, and of the possible directions forward. I credit some of the new stories and perspectives coming in, but really must thank my continued relationship with Jake for helping me further understand my own needs and gain some incredible experience with another man. I am beginning to know what a long-term relationship between two men might look like. And this makes the stories of other men who have found such rich companionship more plausible. We have arrived at an even more profound level of intimacy than before, which goes way beyond the initial physical attraction and sexual heat that got us into bed the first time we met.

To reuse an overworked but apt term from a bygone era – we have become soul mates. We have a kind of completely open way of intersecting one another’s wide array of interests and concerns, emotions and feelings as if we have known one another a very long time. It is a comfort that is just not there in brand new relationships. It allows us to be sappy and soft and sentimental then surge toward spirited debates and sidetrack into painful revelations of our worst selves on the way to lust driven passion. He suggested recently, with astute accuracy, that perhaps it has been a very long time since I was touched by another person, or that I touched another person, the way we touch one another simultaneously with our bodies and our spirits. If touching is meant to include body, spirit, intellect, and emotion all in one combined force field, man does he touch me as I have not been touched in years. And he says I touch him the same way too.

The wild swings from caressing and tender petting to almost rough, hard driving sexual play seem to come out of nowhere from within each of us at the same precise moments. We are each left truly breathless after spectacular spontaneous all-body kisses and hugs, of a kind I confess to having never experienced with a woman.

I still retain the rich memory of wonderful sexual and emotional connections to my wife, and before her to a very few women and one man. I still imagine, though it is a big leap of faith to do so, that I could maybe again have the powerful intimate and beautiful sexual play with my wife we had so effortlessly when we were younger. But to be honest, as I try to in therapy, it has been more than half of the marriage since we had those kind of hot encounters regularly. And now my current affair with Jake confirms my current primary draw to men, this one man, for passionate pleasure.

I just have to accept and even relish that I am mostly gay on the Kinsey scale now…regardless of whether over time I am more bisexual. I may still imagine intimacy with a woman and get turned onto some straight porn. But if asked to imagine whom I want to be sexually active with, the current answer is men. And it is one particular man, with whom I want to explore every position and role and fantasy in order to be truly clear about what I really want and need. I want to do this now with Jake, and no other.

Not all the love making ends in a body rattling orgasm – but the way I feel giving him pleasure, and he makes me feel in return, far outshines a conventional orgasm-centered romp.

Somehow these sex sessions with him get me to more intense levels of feeling and zones of erogenous stimulation without a final orgasm, than I have gotten to in most of my life with an orgasm. I do convulse and splatter out in complete cum shooting sessions with him of course, but that is not always the ultimate endpoint. As we still have new heights to attain, more positions to consummate, further sensitivities to the cues and clues from the other, I realize that where I am now from a relationship view is the significant point.

There is a way this sexy manly intense kind of connection we have, that just starts flowing the minute we see one another, has become now become a model of an adult sexual and emotional bond. We are able to play in a way I have never let myself play with a woman – perhaps out of my own limited and conscripted understanding of what male sexuality toward women could entail, coupled with the prediction toward a narrow palette of actions virtually all of the women I have known seemed to have wanted.

So now my tastes and my actual practices have brought out in me a sexual animal I had no idea existed, and never got activated even by my several very sexy and confident women lovers of the past.

He has let those words out, I love you Jayson, and I about weep at the idea another man, or any other human being, could feel that enthralled by me. I am so unable to simply say it back and we have discussed my being still tightly held and self-protective, based on some long ago losses of love that must have really scarred me. To say it, to admit I have fallen in love with him, would be to admit I can have these precious feelings I still associate with heterosexual love, for a man. And to utter those words is to also be vulnerable to eventual rejection or the diminution of love. I prevent myself from becoming a loser at love by keeping that word and the associated feelings locked up tight.

I feel this remarkable upsurge of emotion and attraction, this strong desire to be with him and just do the most ordinary things together. But I cannot call it love and that may also explain why it takes a huge effort to let go enough to be shot into orgasmic bliss as well. He knows me so thoroughly now, and accepts that I do not answer him word for word when he utters that phrase, “I love you”. And that acceptance of me, by an extraordinary man who has only been in my life less than 5 months, makes me treasure him all the more.

To be continued on the next post

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and click on the word Comments to open a comment box.

I am on vacation in the woods and water through August 10. All pictures are from the site: Sicko Ricko's Crap

Jack Scott's Story and Blog

2011-07-25T04:00:00.000-07:00

Keeping the Faith

I have had some wonderful times with Jake lately, and feel our relationship continues to grow stronger and our sexual explorations take us into new realms of pleasure. But I am not going to write all about that yet. While at Jake’s he showed me some recent comments on my blog as we were catching up on our days, and as I had not been on-line for hours. Jake was the one that introduced me to Jack Scott, whose blog he even took the time to check out. “You have to read this guy’s posts, he is a good writer …” Jake began, as he next read me the comments Jack left on my post, using his Blackberry.

That led me to take some time before work on Friday to take Jake’s advice, and the reading somehow got me instantly into Jack’s life story and current situation in a way I just had to write about. Here is my open letter to Jack Scott:

Keeping Faith in a Better Future

Jack Scott began his own blog last October and posts a few times a month, and I had not discovered him up until this week. Every month or two, another married bisexual or gay blogger launches a blog, and if I find them or they find me, I try to link and welcome them. I always start by reading a new bloggers first few posts, which usually start with the disclosures about how they began their awareness of their sexuality, and what there thoughts are about their current life.

Jack is unusual among this growing group of married bisexual/gay writers for several reasons that compelled me to not just welcome him publicly, but also use this entire post to make comments about his writing, and how it resonated with me.

In his comments on my last post, he says he has collected the stories of many men, and has an unpublished book about guys like us. Jack, that is a real achievement, and if there is any way we could help get that writing effort out there, even in the form of a blog serial, I would like to pitch in.

There was a blogger who stopped a year ago, who had been approached by a gay press to publish his writing as a straight married man who chronicled the story of his move from horrified husband vilifying his male sexual urges, to a man who “jumped off the cliff with no wings” and managed to find a loving gay partner. He felt he had to come out as gay even before having a real male love affair, which led to his separation from his wife. But somehow he was able to land without crashing, maintaining a wonderful relationship with his children, and emerging a happy gay man who found the love of his life. The story was so well crafted and universal it attracted a publisher.

That is one of the paths many of us may take, or are currently in the process of taking like a few of my linked blogger mates are walking. Jack’s path is a different one, and I find so far his story to be as compelling as the man who may find a publisher for his own coming out tale. And it started with Jack's unusual youth in a small town having what many of us dream of as some ideal…a free spirited, widespread childhood of active frequent sexual play with the other boys that transpired without any seeming guilt, and engaged most of the lads in the town. It all seemed to be the natural way to grow up and make buddies. But as sure as testosterone and media combine to make our radar turn to girls, Jack and the other guys seem to have directed all that sexual energy and learned pleasure-making toward the opposite sex right on cue in the teen years.

But Jack learned for himself that initial female sexual attraction and fulfillment, which led him to an early hopeful marriage did not fully extinguish the pull of men. And thus began his years of internal struggle we all find painfully familiar, regardless of whether we ever had sex with boys and teens in his regularized way before. Jack became, like all of us at some stage, the self-hating sufferer. And yet over the years, he came forth as a rare resolved genuinely bisexual man, reaching out to others later in his adulthood as an organizer of a website that serves as a place for searching men. He has been able to provide some comfort and direction to other men based on how much he empathized with their tumult and pain.

Jack, from what I have gleaned from your blog so far, it is clear you are truly bisexual in the equal love and fulfillment you gain from your wife, and from the long time male buddies you have also had. Your path is one that many of us see ourselves wanting to be on for now, trying to maintain a marriage, while finding a man with whom one can enjoy friendship and sexual intimacy. As you seem to have been able to do, we hope to find a kind of special male love that does not eclipse marital love.

What Jack seems to have done over his long life journey is finally integrate his sexuality in a way that many of us cannot imagine, yet gives us some hope and generated in me, real admiration.

Having married very young, even after having been actively sexual with many of his small town boy friends for years, Jack later found the Internet and that created the desire and provided the outlets for an adult married man. For him, as for many of us, this world wide web provided opportunities to jump in and swim nakedly among other gay or bisexual married man in an adult version of the sink-hole secret summer hangout time Jack had with his unusual pack of young men friends.

Jack is a religious man, and has had to integrate spirituality along with sexuality as a personal goal, which is very rare among those of us writing about our experiences. This burdened him more than less religious searching married men with an additional layer of angst to contend with. But it also may have offered an ultimate larger arena to gain eventual clarity and self-acceptance at a deeper level than the rest of us aspire to, or feel we need.

For those of you who wince at any sentence that includes the word faith or Christ, or are turned off at the mention of religion in any site dealing with our sexual proclivities, I hope you can get beyond that reaction when Jack mentions his own or others religious components. Do not give into the stereotype that the mention of Christianity or god by a writer predicts judgment, castigation, and entreaties to repent.

Jack and another sensitive searching blogger Mack that I also link to are trying to embrace their true sexual nature and re interpret their faith, seeking to find within their spiritual searching to be able to understand and even maybe get support for that love of men. And they each seem to be succeeding in that effort – what a refreshing upbeat alternative to the industry of faith converters who work to make sinning gay men straight. Kudos to them as they reclaim the compassionate and humanistic heart of credos that have been captured by narrow-minded right wing Christians. And are we all not having to face the ethical and moral issues our down low homosexual practices raise, whether we do this within the strictures of secular ideals, or religious beliefs?

Who among us, that have been loyal and committed husbands and fathers, does not face our secret chamber of fantasies and sneaky time with men, with some diminished sense of self? We all need to answer to the residual sexual taboo and a monogamous marriage taboo hovering like two swords over our heads. It is not entirely done by tossing it all aside as simply proclaiming our internal whispering critic as the hired gun enforcing society’s hang-ups. We have internalize it all deeply and need some new paradigm to feel not just self-justified, but self-realized in a loving human way.

Perhaps those that struggle with this from a faith based perspective and gain self-acceptance and inner peace can teach us something. As a secular pragmatist, I will take advise and counsel from any man who has managed to walk through the door of having non-disclosed intimate relations with men alongside a loving marriage, and seems to have embraced that direction with no further doubt and hesitation. Now that is integrated resolution of a kind that I could learn from.

Another blogger I like who also is trying to sort his attraction to men out within a spiritual context is Mack, who is in his 30’s, whose blog It Must Be Around Here Somewhere has as its subtitle: “Exploring Spirituality and Sexuality on My Own Terms”. Mack started his blog recently, on April 3, and is just at the beginning of trying to meet and have intimate relationships with men. His writing toggles between sharing those initial steps from bottled up fantasies to real interactions, and musing about how biblical distortions and literalists have misrepresented what may be a much more accepting notion of human love and sexuality in the texts and progressive interpretations of religious writing.

Religious or not, we are all searching for some framework within which we can find self-acceptance and a sense we are part of a community of other men who are not awful exceptions to the masculine march of sacred or secular history. We need men, and we need to fit in, and on some days I think the ability to fit in and find men like me to build new friendships with may be as important for my own psychic survival as having sex.

Back to Jack, whose comments to me, then my reading of his blog really touched me in an unpredicted way.

Jack finally came to peace with his real nature and finally began contacts with other men at the age of 48, after close to 30 years of marriage. He has been active since and has had long-term relationships with men, one as a sexual liaison that devolved into a still warm friendship for the last 15 years.

He writes with a direct and unembellished honesty about a life richly lived. Even as he faces health challenges and the transition to becoming an elder-statesman in some ways, there is a universality in his writing which reached me even with the references to faith, that I feel makes him accessible to men of any age. And certainly his finding a comfortable and rewarding life with men, which seems so calm and resolved compared to my own current state of mind, should serve as a beacon of hope for all of us.

He has instincts to search, then act on his resolve, and then lead others, as I have surmised from what I have read. He started a Yahoo group, which is where I assume he has gleaned the stories of real men that became the source for his unpublished opus. I have not yet accessed his site– one needs to set up a private Yahoo account separate from one you share with your wife, to do that. It is called Bisexual Buddies, which he links to in his profile and on his site. If you are interested, here is the link:

http://groups.yahoo.com/adultconf?dest=%2Fgroup%2FBisexualBuddies%2F

One last item about Jack and his blog, which I have now read about half of..... In an early post, he refers to a researcher who claims that while about 30% of men may have homosexual or bisexual emotional pull, and if given the opportunity would pursue love relationships with men, the vast majority of men have a bisexual sexual capacity, and given the chance would engage in and enjoy sex with other men.

I have not seen such a thesis before, and need to read more about the author and his work. But it does jive with some of my own thoughts and hunches, coming out of my study of other sexual researcher's writing. My own thesis is that it seems we men may just be wired to like and pursue sex with other men if the social constraints were not so heavy, and there may be real species survival logic behind that. It has been a feature of many past cultures. And when men are not among women in such special situations as long military service and prison, left to themselves there is a lot of sexual action among them.

The practice of having sanctioned, even long enduring robust sexual partnerships among men as they are molded by their elders into scholars and warriors, goes back to that Greek practice of sending all teens away for demanding athletic training and induction into manhood in the company of men. Older men took on younger men in a form of mentoring that included sexual bonding, and men in their military service are known to have formed love-bonds among their peers which are credited with making them fierce warriors as they fought to protect their love mates, not just their nation.

This preceded preparation to be husbands, and most entered a next phase of parenting with a cessation of sexual activity with other men according to what is written – while some men continued their whole lives to have male lovers and this was an accepted norm.

This bisexual/gay immersion may have only been a feature of the Athenian Greeks, not Sparta or other Greek rivals, according to scholars. But as we see that Athenian city-state as the birthplace of so much we admire – democracy, the first system of education, the astounding artistic achievements…it is hard to divorce the results of this influential society and deny the existence of a kind of sexual community among men that may have been integral to its very success.

Taking on male lovers openly while being married is also revealed as accepted practice in other cultures, albeit most of what we know comes from the letters and poetry of the educated elite of Persia and the Ottoman Empire and other advanced civilizations…and how this played out among the commoners is yet to be fully understood.

It also seems from the stories of real men I know whose wives have reduced interest in sex after menopause, or after the birth of the last kid, that sex with men may actually be nature’s way to provide an outlet for men, so we can meet that inner sex drive we are given, while not burdening an unwilling partner. Could it be especially as we all live longer, that becoming more gay or actively bi will become a feature of late adulthood for an increased number of men? It clearly has been a practice of many men before us, as assuredly as having sexual explorations with other kids before becoming turned onto girls, and masturbating regularly during even the most sexually active marriage, seem to be the common experience of the majority of men.

We will never know how many of our fathers and uncles and community leaders have been acting on what could be natural impulses we have a propensity to pursue as men. Earlier generations did not leave us a legacy of stories, with the exception of some brave and rare writers who disclosed or alluded to their affairs with men, or whose memoirs surface what their families and friends may have known about all along.

And in this modern era, thanks to the Internet ways we can share without the same fear of discovery and retribution what may have been part of the male experience all along, the existence of a large number of married men who yearn for or pursue sex with other men is now a phenomenon that cannot be denied.

Is the practice more widespread now than in the past, or are we just more able to express it and hear about it? It does seems more men in their 20’s and 30’s now have occasional sex with a buddy, while saying they are not really gay or bisexual. This practice has only surfaced in the last few years according to researchers on human sexuality, and provoked a New York Times story a few months ago. This has sex researchers trying to invent a new category – and as yet there is no agreement on what to call a sexual orientation defined as straight that can include casual sex with close male friends.

This is not just a search for the right name. This is a manifestation of a major shift in both public and stated personal practice and identity. Is this just a way men duck the labeling of being bisexual, or is there a stable hybrid male sexual orientation that spans between exclusively straight, and bisexual? We are living in an era of big shifts in acceptance of a wide variety of sexual practices that allow public persons to disclose, and more role models to emerge, that then circle back to giving young people some tangible evidence so they can see a direction for themselves.

The so-called “Bro Buddies” and the “Bromance” that was proclaimed as a bonding of men that was all masculine and not sexual, can now maybe have a sexual side that does not seem to threaten the identity of the guys. A new kind of maleness, which allows for some play with other guys to not define us as different, would be so liberating. Whether that allows some men to just stay at that level of sexual activity with men, or opens wider doors of desire for others to head further away from the straight side and explore the gay side will be seen next. Wherever this evolving acceptance and definition of male sexuality heads next, it will be so much healthier for men in their teens and 20’s to be able to explore and define themselves on a less restrictive sexual continuum without the residual peer pressures and social conventions that still force us to be all straight, or all gay, and all monogamous as the only public options.

As Jack points out, and we see from some research and the surfacing of more and more bloggers as well as mainstream media exposé, it seems there is an increase of married men in their 30’s and 40’s surfacing who want to be active with other men…Jack says he has seen the rise in their ranks in his many years of hosting his Bisexual Buddies site, which initially drew mostly older guys, but now has younger men participating.

Jack thanks so much for contacting me, and stimulating me to wrap some of my own thinking around your own thoughtful writing. I encourage all my readers to visit this unusual man’s site, and welcome Jack Scott to the company of guys like me.

He had given me some faith that we can emerge at some future place of resolution. And ultimately it is that faith that will get us through the door in the face of enormous waves of doubt, confusion, fear, loneliness, and hopelessness.

I mean it in a total secular way Jack – somehow finding you gave me some new faith and I thank you for that.

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below, and click on the word Comment that will become visible. This will open a comment box.

2011-07-19T09:50:00.000-07:00

The Reluctant Infidel

This post is actually an introductory chapter to a book I have been thinking of writing about men like myself and all the different ways men like us have gotten to some end point, through one of those doors I described. It might be a selection of short stories, or a novel with characters, woven out of the men I have met or read about in the last 18 months of blogging. I decided to post it as I am behind on new writing about myself and Jake, and headed out of town soon. As a departure of form, there are no pictures in the text. The working title for the book is, The Reluctant Infidel.

Chapter 1, How did it Begin?

How did it begin? We have no idea what we are capable of sometimes, especially those of us that have been inclined, or trained, to be ever considerate, ethical, caring, and sensitive to women. How does it begin for us? I was not one of those randy jocks swaggering high school corridors radiating sexual heat. Not the simmering smoky artist aflame with passion that singed as they seduced with distained detachment. How did it begin, that we slide into the sneaky pursuit of pornographic fantasies after considering ourselves above the way those other boys and men bond over bad deeds and irreverent actions?

We could not see it coming really. The twitching half looks at other men, admiring their form and self-confident posing. The stolen peeks as they bared themselves halfway in sweaty athletic action, or completely in the gym. The feeling of our own manhood swelling at the sight, undeniable evidence of Eros’ strong charges to our synapses.

But once it begins it never ends. First, denial. Desperate attempts to extinguish the feelings and responses. Self-loathing. Strategic avoidance of tempting venues, only to have heightened responses in any public realm.

When did it begin? Fondling my own body with images of men, not women, filling my mind and propelling the masturbatory urge. Trolling magazines and videos and websites devoted to male nudity and sexual action. Pretending even then that the bisexual material was the real draw, praying to be landed in some center zone that at least preserved the remnant of a hetero affiliation. Finding some women still turn my head, and portrayals of men with women or two men with one woman still can arouse me. Clutching to the idea of pansexual or bisexual identity then, as a transition, and feeling that way still. Taking solace in the notion it did not overtake me all the time. But the frequency and the intensity grew and the rationalizations could not outpace them.

How did it begin, that I wanted to watch others having intense sex? Was it as conjugal frequency and pleasure declined, the marital tensions arose, the yearning to have a different better life emerged? Or did the seeds of male desire and envy sprout into rapid growing life form within me, becoming so robust even as the long tended garden of conventional marriage bore less nurturing fruit each year?

We are not passive men in this transformation. It begins so quietly within us and the first instincts are to use our intelligence and sensitivity and morality to weed-wack it away. But soon we are fertilizing and feeding what we held low to the ground, and this period of struggling against the force, yet yielding with increasing risky embraces to its power, is where we begin to crumble.

How many of those performances I lined up in the secret realms of sleazy arcades and hidden Internet trolling. It is appalling to account for the hours – those when our mind was distracted and driven by the urges, those when we gave into the pursuits and walked in or clicked on, those in the real space and time of consuming the images and sounds, those as we felt the nausea or the judgment sirens overtake us and pull us out of that central cinemascope space in our being we had given over to pure sexual fantasy one more time alone.

However it begins, it does not end. And for millions of men, it leads us gradually toward the slide. No, that sounds too passive…it is a temblor of our own making, a powerful catapulting of oneself out of the internal series of cyclones that whip up our desires, into that external world of real flesh and forbidden touching. We do not slide, so much as we accelerate and take control of the velocity and command the direction with heightened purpose and driven connection. We stop just imagining it. We start working on getting it.

Then we engineer a first point of contact. This is no softly crossed line; this is the intentional terminus of a long planned flight and landing. We feel nervous, even awful, watching with a mixture of moral horror and supercharged hormones as we make the first contact. As we answer that ad and make that plan and meet him.

But we are the responsible instigators, we are the pilots of this voyage, we aligned the logistics to make that meeting.

He is the first one in our marriage, the first man who we dare touch and allow to touch us. There. Touch us there and there and there and the nuclear reaction to that long suppressed touch confirms the months or years of wandering in the parched desert of denial and validates the many false launches and aborted takeoffs.

That moment when the warmth and smell and moisture of his fingers or lips or palms precedes the first contact, we are no longer reluctant. We are eager and driven and mad with attraction and all those thousands of hours of preparatory pornography unite in a cacophony whose intoxication overtakes us. And now we leap out of the past and into action with every cell of our body.

We are hardly innocent. Yet at some level, still reluctant. An infidel, and adulterer, a violator. A breaker of vows and promises to a spouse. How can it be seen as anything other than terrible or repugnant? Is there some redemption at all, some important nuance at least, that distinguishes what we feel, then do, from all those other men who pursue other women, not other men?

We seek what no woman can give us, that is the one significant difference we hold onto. It is not about her, it is not a rejection of her. It is about a part of our essence that has shifted or manifest itself after we proclaimed our “forever” loyalty to her.

We are infidels. Reluctant because we did not set out to hurt our women, to take our sexual needs to other women, to risk emotional entanglement with other women, to become regular lovers for other women, to compare her to other women. Reluctant because we did not start out this way imagining that it might lead to choosing the superiority of another woman, to having to choose between two women, to leaving her for another woman, to find masculine fulfillment in a better way with another woman.

Reluctant because we may treasure her and love her and value her, as we cannot even imagine ever doing with another woman. There is no other woman we want in the same way, even if our wants for this woman have diminished.

And yet we want and need something else so much, so badly, and with such overwhelming ache and pain that we risk losing our only woman to find out how much we might gain from intimacy with a man. That is the measure of reluctance, the modicum of moral relativism that shades our pursuits.

How did it begin, this double life, this gradual movement that then became a four-wheel drive into passion with men? And how will it ever be resolved, the life of infidelity to her as I seek fidelity to me. I am not who I thought I was and she thought I was. Our coupledom was constructed on what now appears as a false premise of dual and reciprocal needs. The unity and mutual completion we once envisioned, and then seemed to have attained, is not really possible the same way, as my identity has changed.

We do not will this change. I did not want this change. But now I want to accept and embrace this change, because it is not so much a change created from outside, but a manifestation of some part of me that was always there, and the change is in how I present it, how I integrate it into my totality. So where does she now fit and do I now fit, with this different part no longer kept at bay, no longer artfully hidden deep inside from others. Hiding it from her, it is still hugely present in me.

I have to just get past asking, how does it begin. I am in the middle of it, the mucky muddling middle of it, now having fantastic passionate sex with one man, a path so many before me have travelled. I am the man in the middle of it for now. And my only real guides through the vast and confusing middle of it, are the stories of other men. These are the ones I have stumbled upon and gleaned from the random and erratic searches for books and articles and websites.

These are the ones I have heard from the few real men I have met for coffee or wine or a night of sexual play and lay there with them afterward, smoothing one another’s chests, telling each other how we came to be in bed together starting with that beginning. Even with those for whom no spark arose, no second date was made, there was some exchange of the story we each have, of how it began and where we are now with it.

We all began it somehow somewhere with an interior understanding that this was different and must be kept secret. It begins as our secret struggle, with our secret demon, against our secret provocateur. That is how it begins, now I remember.

But that beginning does not carry with it the insights I need to get to the end. The revelations and exchanges in the temporary safe zone with other real men or on the Internet help remove the inflated influence of the first time events. They help. They give consolation and comfort. They strangely reassure. And in some very rare situations, they begin a new possible friendship, the beginnings of a support network.

So it began for me and began for all those others and plays itself out.

That is how I thought about it when I began writing about it, on a blog. And now I wonder if that also is a phase, an impulsively begun attempt to make connections that must also lead to some next step.

It began and is now a midpoint and I wonder what comes next in my writing, not just in my sexuality. Now what follows? Writing a book of tales I have heard, so an even wider number of searching men have something to help them? Starting a real group that meets from time to time somehow arranged innocently as conferences and workshops that men can take under the watchful eye of spouses? A shift to fiction? A shift to research and reading to steep myself further in the investigations others are making, with the purpose of generating some public awareness and private help?

This very post could be the first chapter of several such ventures. Followed by real tales of men, dozens even from such a dinky little region I have explored for men. Or followed by fiction that amalgamates the real and the imagined with the higher purpose- of building insight and sympathy, not just erotic satisfaction. Or followed by citations and summaries and evidence about the big wide “Us” of which we are in some ways a gelatinous part. Or followed by directions on how to sign up for that first “hiking club” trip we will take together.

Or maybe it is close to that time to just let some arbitrary post be followed by a long silence to be filled by others launching their own outpourings and adding their genuine heartfelt truth to the center of the circle. Time to just live my story and stop writing it.

To leave a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below and the word Comment will appear and open a box.

Return to Jake

2011-07-12T20:24:00.000-07:00

Heat and Desire

Returning to Jake each time is just exhilarating to me. I was on that combined work trip and mountain/river vacation for 2 weeks, and had really built up a longing for him. It was not as if I obsessed about him every moment of every day away, but I notice how my buoyancy increases and my grin expands on the afternoons when I am about to drive to my house and meet him, or take that 50 minute southbound freeway snaking along the coast and wine country hills to get to his place.

Last Thursday, it was his turn to come to my place. On arriving home, we discovered the person I had asked to water plants and the veggie garden had clearly not been there in many days of scorching heat. Jake was in the front patio area waiting for me, sitting provocatively among the droopy potted plants and fried containers...even drought resistant species whither under unrelenting heat. He had arrived a few minutes before me, and looked by contrast a robust, vibrant, colorful image of male beauty as he sat spread legged showing his muscular calves to me. Jesus, I wanted to give him a passionate kiss right there, in a zone that is clearly visible to a few select neighbors, but stopped the impulse.

“Help me water the frigging half dead bushes and trees”, I commanded, as we set about with two garden hoses dousing everything in gushes of warm water. The larger plant containers gurgled as the soil eagerly sucked the nourishing liquid of life down into the parched roots.

“Save those goddamn orange trees I've pampered for three fucking years... I will kill the gardener if they die”, I laughed. He knew that the guy I had expected to water was doing an irrigation project for me, and was none other than former fuck buddy Alberto. At first I think he suspected we two might be doing more than laying out watering systems together. It did look strange I guess that I had given him a job he desperately needed, out of human compassion, not out of quid pro quo lust. But now I felt Jake trusted my loyalty to him.

Finishing the watering, we entered the much cooler home. Before we could even begin talking of dinner, the magnetic pull we seem to have for one another took over. We grabbed ourselves almost violently into kissing and body stroking with powerful heat and intensity. Late afternoon sun was washing our bodies in that corner window where wordlessly, we rushed to strip each other naked and spring out of our already wetted underwear throbbing hard.

He was the one that first hurled us into the kitchen and we smashed one another back against the counters and cabinets grabbing and pulling at our cocks and squeezing each other's asses hard as we locked into ravenous kisses. He then led the sprint into the closest bedroom to carry our animal lust action forward. There was not time to even climb the 17 steps to my large master bed, and we were turned on by the allure of having sex in the garden facing guest bedroom, with no curtains blocking the views in or out. Fucking this way, with no gradual build up and a full rush of hot lust, seeming to be half outside with all the glass next to us…god how fantastic that was.

We tossed one another all over that bed, and by the time he bucked like a major earthquake had hit as his cum shot into my hands and mouth, I was sweating like I had been in a steam room for an hour. His moans and screams were louder than I ever had heard from him, turning me on all the more. With a gentle interlude of an embrace and soft chest rub, we spoke little and kissed deeply, his erection not diminished a bit by the spectacular orgasm.

Then it was my turn to be his plaything, and at some point I sprung up touching the ceiling as he worked his masterful hands and mouth all around my engorged cock and hanging balls. It was a variation on the moves he made the night I had held onto the wood beams in the larger vaulted bedroom. He could feel me growing harder and bigger and the pulsations of blood swelling my cock set the rhythmic meter of his oral cock sucking. And just like that night as I hung on the beams, my knees wobbled and the waves began shooting up from my feet and down from my hands pressed tight to the ceiling as the orgasm overtook me. This time he took the entire load into his mouth, several shots in a row, a volume of hot semen I rarely shoot. Fuck man, Jake, that was so extraordinary!! I collapsed onto him and we lay sweating and steamy, both slimy in places from cum, taking a long time to return to normal breathing. We lay there still and quiet for a while, savoring our meteoric blasts that had taken such a short time.

And this was just the first hour of a night of passion that included a loopy trip to a specialty grocery store between sex sessions. We are convinced the female staff at the prepared food counter knew we had just had mind-blowing sex from the grins and laughs and near touches and goofy looks that peppered our banter over what to eat.

Adding to that incredible night of pleasure, he unexpectedly invited me down to his place the next evening, on the chance I might be waiting to head out of down on Friday afternoon instead of my planned Thursday night departure. That spontaneous second night deserves its own erotic tale, too much for me to tack onto this one post.

My mind can cogitate and evaluate and fulminate about the larger implications of what I do. Then my body tells me each time I want to be all sensual and sexual with him, explore every position, take us from long velvet tender kissing to sweaty man on man pure driving fucking. We consume one another. We have deep and silly conversation as the mood carries us. We eat fantastic food and relish some parts of a refined existence then catapult ourselves into carnal thrills. And so far, we seem completely attuned to one another’s moods and needs and desires. We just fit so well together, and our bodies and souls take over without advance directions.

I have to stop asking how this happened and where it will go. We are living it deeply and intensely in each moment, date by date, move by move. I am out of the chilly darkness and dazzled in the heat and light he generates, that we generate for one another. He moves me I keep saying to myself over and over. He moves me so profoundly. He moves me and I guess I move him too and it is so improbable and yet so life giving to me now.

To add a comment, scroll rightward across the time shown below, and click on the word "comments" to open up a box.