The Horoscope Was Correct

Well, my Monday Gemini horoscope was right. It said if I am let down someone will make it up to me shortly.

“Oliver” texted me on Monday and we worked out the funky situation that happened on Sunday. I had drinks at my place with a few friends on Monday night and he dropped by and after everyone left we made up. And that making up was very sweet and intense.

Still, it was a lesson for me. Live my life and let things flow as they are meant to. Take it easy and let shit develop although being a Gemini I tend to move fast.

I have a bunch of stuff planned for this evening — some reading to catch up on, a support group meeting, perhaps a gym work out or a sex work out. Who knows?

A friend of mine is vacationing in Orlando and calls to see how I am. I tell him about my recent adventures.

“What do you want?”, “Jack” asks me.

I misunderstand the question and tell him what kind of gay guy I like — somebody I can be a partner with and is not feminine.

“No, Immanuel, that’s not what I’m asking. Are you looking for a relationship?”

I tell Jack no but deep down I’m ambivalent. If it happens it happens. If it doesn’t no sweat. I like being a loner too. I don’t get bored or insecure hanging with myself because I’m a Gemini and always have a twin to keep me company.

“Well, man, take it slow,”  he advises. “You are just separating from your wife. So don’t rush into anything.”

He is right. My life is mine to shape and form. God shaped us all but gave us free will. I pray I make the right decisions.

Stupid Me

The male dancer’s body was compact and tight. His skin — a rich ebony hue — was slick and shiny from baby oil.

He undulated his body in front of me, his bubble ass swaying slowly to the music. I leaned forward and slipped a $20 bill into his bikini briefs.

“Do me a favor — do my boy,” I said. “I want to see that shit.”

My boy “Oliver” was sitting on the sofa across from me. We were at a buddy’s birthday party the day after Christmas. My buddy, “Leo,” had hired two male dancers. This was a big night for me. I have been hooking up with Oliver for a few weeks and wanted to see how we would interact in public.

The dancer smiled at me and moved over to Oliver, straddling his lap and grinding that ass into his crotch. It was hot to watch. Oliver’s face showed pleasure. I enjoyed watching him enjoy himself.

The male dancers eventually left and Leo wanted to get a sex party started with the five or so guys still left in his posh, high-rise apartment. Oliver and I played around awhile but I wasn’t feeling the scene. Leo and I used to hook up and he wanted to have a relationship with me that I did not desire, so that tension is there. He is also a tiresome control freak who likes to direct the action instead of letting it flow. But what broke the straw was his friend “Zack,” who jumped on me and insisted he wanted to fuck me.

“Dude, I don’t do that. Get off me,” I said.

“Stop playing. You know you like dick in your ass.”

“Look motherfucker. You play by my rules. If I say no I mean no.”

I resisted the urge to punch him in his face and instead pushed Zack off me and walked over to Oliver, who was having his dick slobbed down by Leo.

“I’m ready to go,” I said.

Oliver didn’t miss a beat. “Cool, let’s go.”

We put on our clothes and headed out. Unfortunately we messed up Leo’s salacious plans. All the other guests put on their clothes too and hit the door.

“Damn, guess I’m going to have to go to the club to go pick up some ass for my birthday,” Leo said.

“Oh well, I had a good time,” I said before giving him a last birthday hug and heading out.

I drove back to Oliver’s place and we lay down together. He is about two inches taller than me. He is not classically handsome in the gay sense. He has a square build and flat ass like a white man and an odd, loping walk because he had surgery on his leg bones when he was younger.

But he has beautiful eyes set a face the color of a pecan. He is masculine and aggressive, the way I like dudes. We are both in the media field so can carry a conversation with each other. And although I have not penetrated him the sex with him — the bumping and grinding, the oral, and nipple play — is intense. I swear kissing him is like drinking from a cool water fountain on a hazy, hot day. His kissing is just that good.

I gave him a pair of my drawers and he has a pair of mine. Sometimes I pull them out and smell his musk — that mixture of cologne and soap and sweat and pheromones. And he says he puts his nose right in the imprint my big dick makes and inhales deeply.

So now I’m wondering how I could have been so stupid.

We wake up Sunday morning because I plan to go to church (sinners need the Lord too) then on to my part-time job. He promises to meet later in the afternoon. I will cook and he insists I give him a shopping list so he will have the fixings ready when I get there. Then we’ll watch football and smoke some blunts and let what happens happen.

“Hey I got to pick up a buddy at the airport flying in from France and drop him at his boy’s place,” he said.

“Cool, I’m working so do your thing. We’ll just meet up later.”

I think it’s odd that he has to pick up his boy’s boyfriend. Why can’t his friend do that? But hey, that’s not my business.

I get off from work, cat around downtown an hour or so and text and call Oliver but no answer. About an hour later he calls and says the dude’s flight is delayed almost three hours.

“Cool, I’m downtown hanging around. Call me when you’re free.”

“That’s good. I really want to be with you. I’ll get back with you when the coast is clear.”

Coast is clear? That is an odd phrase to use, I think. But I say to myself…those are his buddies so that’s his business.

Eight o’clock comes. Nine o’clock. I haven’t heard from him. I got to the gym and work out like a fiend. Then I leave a voice mail and text saying if he wanted to hang with his buddies he could have done so. He texts back saying could we take a raincheck because he was tired and just wanted to sit back and watch the Washington Dallas football game.

I finally get the drift. “Look dude, if you wanted to hang with your boy from France, just do it.”

“Thanks for being so understanding,” he texts back.

I’m angry. Not angry that he is sexing somebody else. That’s cool and we had already agreed to play together and with others. What made me mad is that he obligated my time and lied about it. Shit, I could have done something else with my free Sunday afternoon than wait on him.

The lying hurt. But shit. I have lied to my wife so karma is bound to happen. So I talk to a few buddies about it and then suck it up and act like a man. All stoic and shit.

This morning I treat myself to breakfast at Bob Evans. Some bacon and eggs and whole wheat toast. I love eating alone, sitting at the lunch counter and flirting with the waitresses. One is named “Symphony,” a fine brown skinned sister with dreads. I love black women with natural hair. And I take my time read the newspaper cover to cover (Shit, Dallas beat the shit out of Washington!) while sipping coffee.

I read my horoscope Gemini and do a double take. It is so true.

“Few things are more valuable to you than a kept promise. Unfortunately, not everyone is into keeping his or her word sacred. But don’t worry. If you are let down someone will make it up to you very shortly.”

I relax some more and smile. God has blessed me. I am becoming myself. I am going to pick up my kids, hang out with them, and act silly and embarrass them. It will be a good day!

Rent Parties

“Harlem Rent Party” by Mabel Dwight
My buddy “David” sends me a text message.

“I’m having a sex party. You’re invited.”
You may remember David from an earlier post. I call him my sexy geek because he is an IT professional, real estate professor, has a big dick that looks a ripe banana, and can suck a mean dick. But I have never known him to have a sex party.
“Hey man, times are tight. I need the money.”
“Okay, I’ll try to make it.”
He is not the only one I know having sex parties not because they like sex but because they like money. There is this young guy I know who throws a sex party at least once a week to raise the funds to cover his apartment rent and other expenses. They are pretty perfunctory affairs — come in, give him $10, put your clothes in a plastic garbage bag, and sit around in your underwear in the dark eyeing the other guys there and waiting for the action to start.
I have never seen the host participate, although he is a hot guy with a friendly personality. He just sits at the door taking money and busy on his laptop trolling gay sex hookup sites so he can invite more fresh meat through the door.
Hey the dark clouds of the Bush Administration are still hanging over us. David is right — these are hard times and the unemployment rate for Blacks is above 15 percent. So I don’t blame these guys for what they do. A brother has to hustle.

Support Group

Okay, I’m trying to do gay stuff that don’t involve sex. Immerse myself in the culture. Try out my wings.

So last week I went to a gay support group for men over 40. I get all excited about going. Finally a chance to open up with brothers, ask good questions, find out the real shit about gay life from mature men who have been in it awhile.
Matter of fact, a buddy of mine who suggested I go to the group said one of the men it is 75 years old and just coming out of the closet. His wife had died and he felt the time to come out was now or never. 
The support building has a lot of metal doors but few windows. It’s like Fort Knox. I think, “Shit, do these gay motherfuckers think they are about to get attacked!”
I ring the buzzer. They let me in. And my hopes of having some heartfelt dialogue go right out the window because…they are HAVING A CHRISTMAS PARTY!!
“Come in Immanuel, get a plate man. Make yourself at home.”
There are about eight guys there that run the gamut of gay. They look like your brothers, uncles, your high school English teacher. One is very effeminate with arched eyebrows but most just look average.
We do talk about some issues — gay marriage and gay bookstores and cross dressing. But this meeting is all about digging into fried chicken, potato salad and banana pudding and sharing the Christmas spirit. 
After about an hour I’m ready to go. The host walks me to the door. I noticed he is limping. Being my usual nosey self I ask why.
“It’s a side effect of my HIV treatment,” he explains. “It’s alright. I’ll be okay. Are you HIV positive?”
“No,” I answer. “I just took the test a few weeks ago. I want to stay negative. I always wear a condom. Always.”
“Cool. Well if you need any health services you can get them here. And come back to another group meeting. We’ll be back to our normal schedule soon.”
“Cool, I will.” And I mean that.

Little One

“Little One” is probably one of my biggest blog fans. He is just 22 years old, a kid. But he has an old soul — you can talk to him about anything from politics to pussy. The kid is sharp.

He is small in stature with the body of a ballet dancer — slender waist and toned ass and legs. Skin the warm, rich color of brown sugar glaze on ham.

I met him online when I tried to correct the grammar in his sex profile. But he got me straight…he was actually right about the subject/verb agreement. So we started talking and discovered we were both writers. I would read what he wrote and he read my blog.

And a friendship grew.

“Damn, Little One. I have to cook for the kids and can’t think of what to do. I need to do something quick and easy.”

“Hold on man, I’ll send you some casserole recipes.”

And he would email them right away. Now that’s a friend.

But I avoided meeting him. First, he was dazzling handsome and that intimidated me. Secondly he is young enough to be my son. And thirdly he leans toward the effeminate side, which is not my taste.

All summer and into fall he would sometimes ask if I was interested. I would promise I would come but make up an excuse not to.

But last Saturday I was on the way home from a side gig and got an IM from him.

“It’s cold tonight and I’m staying in. Come over and watch a movie with me and stay warm.”

I paused before answering. Thought a while. Decided.

“What’s your address Little One?”

I was there in less than 20 minutes. He greeted me at the door with nothing but a towel around his narrow hips.

“You got here quick. I didn’t have time to shower.”

I work out and stay in shape and my dick still gets hard as a rock. But I was unsure whether we would blend. I am twice his age plus one year.

He invited me to get comfortable and I changed into some jeans and a wife beater I carry in my gym bag and lay across his bed. He asked me what movie I wanted to watch from his collection and I picked “Brother to Brother,” a gay-themed drama.

He had finished showering and still had on the towel. “I need to put on some lotion,” he said.

“Can I do that for you?”


I rubbed the lotion into the arms, massaging them. The his legs. Then I took the brown towel from around his waist. His dick was rock hard. Standing up proud and stiff like a little toy soldier.

It was on.

We sexed literally all night, sucking each other’s dicks, eating each other’s asses, nipples, feet, fingers, necks, scalps, lips, tongues, nuts, underarms… Then we would relax and massage each others limbs. And then start all over. His body was small and tight under mine. Limber as a rubberband.

“Can I fuck you?” I asked.

Little One said I was too big at first. But eventually we decided to try.

“Take it easy. Go in slow. Use more lube.”

Finally my dick slid in. I swear I could feel his pelvic bones rubbing my dick head. Thats just how far I was up in him. His ass was young and tight and wet. I fucked him until he busted a nutt. But when we fucked again he said enough was enough, he could take no more.

So like a good sport I got between those slender brown legs and flicked my tongue against his anus and balls until he jerked his dick and busted the second nutt.

We woke Sunday morning. It was raining. We were still horny. So horny we thought, “Fuck breakfast…let’s keep this shit moving.”

“I want to see you fuck somebody Daddy,” Little One said.

Little freak, I thought. You could grow on an old motherfucker like me.

So I got online and an hour or so later we were freaking with a tall red boy from Georgia, just 25 years old and in our town just a year to the day.

“Happy anniversary,” Little One and I said to him before we both fucked him.

But Georgia boy didn’t excite me like Little One. His ass was loose — he said he didn’t get around but his asshole told the true story. My dick could hardly stay hard. I had been going all night. But Georgia boy busted while Little One was sucking his dick and nutts. And I stood over them and jacked until I busted into Little One’s eager sexy mouth.

“That tastes sweet,” he said.

“Thank you. You know I like to eat a lot of chocolate. It makes that shit sweet,” I answered.

I drove Georgia boy to his part time job and on the way back called Little One and we went out and ate at a nearby soul food restaurant. Smothered pork chops and grits and home fries and pancakes and biscuits. The staff knew him and treated him like a long lost son. Some of the waiters even came over and talked to us.

He was feminine but masculine and confident at the same time. Confident in his skin. You couldn’t help but like the dude.

He talked to me about his ambitions. His plan to open a business and do some stuff in entertainment. He was as busy as I am.

“You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you,” I said “Go for it. You can do it.”

Little One, I know you read my blog. Thank you for giving me yourself for one day. Maybe one day I’ll come back and finish watching “Brother to Brother” with you.

Photo by Dan Nelson

Slow Down

One of my best buddies “Andre” sends me an email. “I need to talk to you. I’m worried.”

“Uh oh,” I think, feeling like a little kid caught pissing in the neighbor’s garden. “What did I do?”

I respect Andre. His advice is always sound. He was married to a woman at one time. After that relationship ended he transitioned into the gay world. He has buried two long-term lovers and at times struggled financially.

But he always keeps going and is one of the warmest people I know. His door is always open and you know you can go there to land a decent meal, good conversation, great sex, or just have an ear to listen to.

Andre read the blog about crazy “Evan” and it concerned him.

“You really need to slow down and be careful. I don’t want to read about you in the newspaper.”

I bristle a bit inside but I tell myself shut up and listen and learn. Andre has been in the gay world a lot longer.

“And you need to limit these sex parties. If you get a reputation for going to them people can talk about you. And some of these queens can be vicious. You just haven’t seen that yet.”

“Look, I’m going to take you to some events where there is not sex so you can meet some gays who are doing some positive things.”

“And don’t put so much information in your blog about what you do. People can use that against you, too. And you should really consider forming a support group to help other guys like you. You know, you don’t how you could help somebody else.”

“Hey Andre, I appreciate that. I’ll listen to what you say,” I respond. And I plan to.

Okay, from what I read when guys come out they get real promiscuous because the gay life is new and they want to bust loose and express themselves. But later you get acculturated and tone the sex down, going more for quality than quantity.

Other buddies “in the family” tell me Andre’s advice is sound. My good buddy “Rex” said I could meet a crazy hookup who is mad I don’t want to sex them any more. That person could spread vicious gossip about me.

Wow, this gay culture is more complex than I thought. There are land mines out there. I feel like a babe in the woods sometimes.

I’ve Been Nominated for Best Gay Adult Blog!

I got an email informing me that my blog has been nominated the Best Gay Blog of 2009 in the Adult Category. Go here to read about the nominees and vote for them.

Even if I don’t win I am honored. I wrote this blog to process my thoughts, work through some issues, and to educate and titillate you at the same time.

In the past month alone, my blog has attracted almost 1,000 readers from 52 nations, including India, Saudi Arabia, Sweden and Brazil. Blog experts I know said that is a pretty respectable readership for a personal blog.

Thank you all for your support and encouraging comments.