Out of the Closet, and Back In Again



It’s amazing how down-low brothers can turn their sexuality on and off. An encounter a few days ago made me ponder this phenomenom.

This week I hooked up with a married brother from out of town. He was visiting our major metropolitan city to attend some sort of an educational conference. He was originally from the Caribbean island of Guadelupe, and spoke with a French accent.

To look at him you would never know he got down with men. He wore conservative, brown corduroy pants, a suede jacket and baseball cap. He reminded me of some black academic — think Cornel West or Henry Louis Gates.

But when the clothes came off all the inhibitions went. The sex was so good the first day that the next I arranged for him to threesome with me and my regular buddy “Rex.”

“This dude is a freak,” I told Rex. “You wont be disappointed. The sex is on point.”

I picked the Caribbean dude up at his hotel room last Tuesday at noon and drove him took Rex’s place a few miles away. In a few minutes we were butt naked on the bed. His skills were very good. First he licked my nipples and then he moved his darting tongue down my body to lick around my balls and asshole. Then he took my long, hardened dick into my mouth and sucked me like a pro.

Rex did not join the action at first. But when he glanced into the bedroom and saw our bodies entangled and our tongues intertwined he was soon out of his clothes and in bed too. A gay porno film played on a flat screen television at the foot of the bed, but we didn’t need it. We made our own porno movie.

Rex, who has a thick dick like a soda can, and I took turns fucking Caribbean man. At first his ass was tight but with lots of lube it loosened up. We fucked him missionary style, doggy style, on our sides. We even tried to push both our dicks into him at the same time, but his ass would not yield so we stopped trying, laughing at the failed attempt.

Earlier Caribbean man had said he wanted to take all the dick he could while in our area. He was married and lived in a predominately white town in upstate New York. There were few opportunities to get down with other black men. And when he hooked up with white dudes they usually wanted him to play the Mandingo role and fuck them.

“Oooh, fuck me,” he moaned. “Fuck this pussy. I haven’t had enough yet. Keep fucking me.” He got so heated we didn’t even have to move our bodies — he fucked us by pumping his hips up and down on our dicks. The combination of sweat, lube and his natural juices soon made his ass wet. Rex’s dick made a sound like a teenage girl smacking gum as he plunged into Caribbean man’s ass.

But we had to stop. The lunch hour ended and he had to get back to his conference. We jacked off and came together in the dark bedroom, our bodies lit only by the flickering light from the television.

We showered and I drove him back to his hotel. Then his whole persona changed. He became shy and quiet. The sex starved down-low man who a half hour before wanted two dicks to split his body became just another, nondescript businessman in our town to attend a boring seminar.

“Well, goodbye, hope to see you again if you ever come back,” I said, trying to break the silence. “I can hook you up with my boy and me again.”

But I knew I would probably never see him again. He would go home to his wife, get back in the closet, and push his desires back deep down inside him. Only when he could get away again would his true sexuality emerge again.

Boring Sex



You can get lot of no-string sex online from dudes. But take it from me, an experienced down-low freak. But 90 percent ain’t worth getting your dick hard for.

I’ve been busy in the last couple of weeks, which is why I haven’t written. I’m embarking on a new career course and am juggling several on-the-side gigs plus family responsibilities. I’m a hard-working brother who likes to bring my A-Game every time.

That’s why getting bad sex from online sex irks me. I don’t have a lot of time to waste.

I recently hooked up with “Chuck,” a formerly married, tall, middle aged brother. Chuck is pushing 50 but keeps his body in shape and has a high tight, smooth brown ass. He loves to get fucked in a bedroom in his basement. The atmosphere reminds me of 70s porn movies — wood paneled walls and scented candles burning.

Chuck is good to fuck but sex for him — and a lot of other people I roll with — is all about getting my big dick in their asses. Chuck gives little foreplay. He will suck your dick a minute.

“Do you kiss?,” I venture to ask.

“Oh, I’m not really into doing that unless we’re dating,” Chuck says.

I think to myself. That’s fucked up. I’m eating your ass out until you are moaning in delight, caressing your body, nibbling your ears and even sucking your toes before pumping my dick into you until I’m pouring with sweat. And this lanky motherfucker can’t even give me a kiss.

I make up my mind right then and there to drop Chuck. No more dick for him. In recent weeks I have done to several regulars. Guys who want to lay back and get banged but not give nothing back get dropped. I hate lazy bottoms.

My buddy “Baron” explains how I got myself into this predicament. “Guys see that long black dick and all they are thinking about is getting fucked. Not about giving foreplay.”

Baron has a point. I can’t disagree.

My First Trip to a Gay Bar



Okay, so if I’m going to shift to a gay lifestyle I guess I have to immerse myself in the culture.

So a few weeks ago I am attending an evening function and get a call from my buddy “Andre.” He was a few miles away at a popular gay bar in our metropolitan area.

“Why don’t you drop by on the way home?,” Andre asked. “What the hell? You need to get out and get a drink.”

Andre knows about my home situation and that I need to get out and escape some of the drama that I created. So I take him up on the offer.

The gay bar looks like any other bar. Dark wood, strong drinks, loud music and even louder people. There are even few women there…unless you count a handful of lesbians and some barely passable transvestites.

I don’t feel nervous at all. Shit, I’ve been sexing gay men for months now. Can’t I have drink with them too?

I find Andre at an upstairs bar with his buddy “Melvin.” They are tag team partners, looking for sex. And they have found their marks — two younger gay guys. One is handsome but plump and the other is handsome and sports thug gear, although he seems a little to old to be wearing it. Andre and Melvin have their hands all over them, squeezing and caressing them.

I get a drink and watch them, amused. This is just like a straight bar. The same dynamics of hunt and being hunted. The flirting. The banter.

I look around the bar and some guys are staring at me. I am fresh meat, I guess. I just stare over their heads at the flat screens and soon they stop staring. I just want to chill and hang with friends.

I notice two dudes I have seen online. One of them I know is HIV positive but doesn’t tell folks that online. I turn to Melvin and mention it to him and gesture toward the guy, who is very tall and thin and light-skinned.

“Shit, you have to assume everybody is positive,” Melvin said before taking another swig of his drink and turning back to the young guy he planned to fuck later that evening. He is right. I can’t argue.

But Melvin is like an octopus. Soon he is touching and feeling on me. He is cool but all the touchy-feeliness in public makes me uncomfortable. I get up and walk around to escape. But the night is soon over anyway. Andre returns from the bathroom and says he is ready to go. The four of them leave for a night of sex and I go home.