Avoiding Orlando


Two weeks ago I was at a gay spot, having my first dance with a dude. A short, stocky, dark-skinned brother with dreads.

“You need to have a boyfriend like me,” he said, rubbing his body against mine as the House music thumped and throbbed.

I almost laughed. I had got hit on by three men already that night and they were beginning to sound and look alike. I wasn’t hurting for sex.

“Dude, I already got boyfriends,” I answered.

“How many?”

“Shit nigger, 20 of them!”

He got the message I was not interested. He abruptly stopped dancing with me and walked off. Besides it was near closing time and soon the bouncers were barking at everyone, ordering us to leave.

That’s when I saw “Orlando” across the dimly lit dance floor. Oh. shit.

I positioned my body so another guy was between Orlando and me. To my relief he didn’t see me. He was talking animatedly with friends, heading for the exit. Whew.

Let me explain myself. I have known Orlando since freshman days in college back in the ’80s when Run-DMC was the next hot thing.

He was somewhat effeminate and the guys in the dorm used to tease him unmercifully. But his sexuality was uncertain. He said he liked girls and even had one back in his hometown. You had to take a guy at his word.

I vividly recall one night in the dorm we were part of a group of guys  hanging up late and talking shit. All of a sudden one of them pulled out his dick.

“You know you want to suck this Orlando,” the dude said. The room got quiet.

I remember feeling so embarrassed for Orlando and shocked that a dude would insult another guy like that in a crowd. If a man did such a demeaning thing to you you were supposed to try your best to kick his ass or you would be the group punk until you turned 90 years old.

But Orlando just waved it off. “Man, put your dick back in your pants and shut up.”

Orlando was a light-skinned with curly hair and light copper eyes. The typical 1980s Leon Isaac Kennedy pretty boy. But I realized that day he was stronger than he appeared. He just let the insults roll off him and held his head high. He never argued back.

I always root for the underdog. So I started hanging out with him. He could tell the funniest jokes and always cracked up the room. But  soon  rumors started that we were an item. This may sound odd to you blog readers but back then I had the odd fantasy now and then about laying with a dude, but the desire was not strong enough to act on.

I was trying to get pussy like everybody else.

One day I heard a knock on my dorm room door. It was another good buddy, “Colby.” He walked in and got right to the point.

“Immanuel, you need to quit hanging around with that faggot,” Colby said. “I know you’re not gay but you don’t want folks thinking that shit.”

“Look man, that’s my friend. I don’t care what other people think. Besides, Orlando tells me he is not gay.”

I did care what other people thought — shit I was 19 years old. But I was always a rebel, so I stuck by Orlando and continued to defend him.

A few years later, after graduating college, my girlfriend and I went to a gay club on “straight night” and saw Orlando dancing with a bunch of dudes on the floor.For some reason it made me angry. The next day I called him.

“So you have been gay all this time and I was defending you and you didn’t let me know what was up?”

Orlando coughed like he was trying to clear his throat. Then he got real quiet.

“Nigger, answer me. Are you gay?!” I demanded.

“Immanuel, what do you think I am?” he answered. His voice still had the same calm tone he had used when that dude flashed his dick in the dorm room.

“I think you are gay,” I said.

“Well then, if you think I am then I am,’ he answered.

After that we never brought the issue of his sexuality up again. In hindsight I was wrong — how he rolled sexually was his business. I should have never confronted him. He had never come on to me — he had just been a good friend. But I was younger and my pride was at stake.

Orlando continued to play a role in my life. He was even a groomsman at my wedding. My family loves him. Years can go by and we don’t see each other but he calls every Thanksgiving  to wish us a happy holiday. We are even friends on Facebook.

So how I am going to explain to him that I am gay too? Because the next time I go to that club I may not be able to avoid him. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.

A letter to my readers!


My last blog generated a lot of comments so I decided to write a letter to my blog readers. Here it is:

I appreciate the comments everybody and you’re right, guys who come out do go crazy sexually because it’s all new.I am also a handsome, fit top with a hard dick so it seems I am always in demand. Folks say I look 35 years old now but age will catch up with me.So eventually this will come to an end. Slowing down would be nice.

However, my life is actually quite full apart from sex. Believe it or not I’m active in church, volunteer with the homeless, write freelance articles, work a full-time job and a part-time job. I go to the gym three or four nights a week.I am also a father and am active in my kids’ lives…I live less than a mile from them.

My life feels fulfilled. When I was married I was a good husband while it lasted and I continue to make sure things are okay financially at home. I have had a successful career – I have traveled to Switzerland and Paris and Canada and Germany doing what I love.I’ve met everyone from gang bangers to President Clinton. Life has been good.

I have made a few friends in this who have been guiding lights and supportive through my ups and downs.Have you read about my buddy Andre and Rex and Baron? They are my go-to guys.There are others but I don’t write about them because it would probably bore you.

The sex is not as mindless as you think. I genuinely enjoy having sex. I don’t even have to cum, I love giving pleasure so much. To me it is like working out at the gym — a physical, fun act.

Does Oliver control me? As much as I let him. I have learned to enjoy him when we are together and hang out and have a life when I am not. Just the fact I could attached to someone again and feel such emotions of desire is great thing. I told him even if we don’t remain friends the feelings I felt will last a lifetime — I will always have that memory until senility robs it from me. I never dug a dude like that before but I am also a grown man that won’t be taken for granted.

Something that I don’t write about is that I have gone on three non-sex dates in the past week or so. I’m really getting to enjoy guys on a friendship level.

What do I want to do in the future? Eventually buy a small place of my own and have a spot where my kids can visit me when they find time in their lives for an old man. I t would nice to have a relationship but it’s not prerequisite. I enjoy myself so I don’t get lonesome. Plus I have alot of friends gay and straight.

In the immediate future I want to learn
Spanish and maybe convert this blog into a book! We will see.

Take care and keep reading!

Immanuel

Okay, I’ll write fast…follow the bullets


Damn, I could write so much. It’s been busy since Friday. Where to start? Where to end?

Okay, so I’ll make this as short as I can and write fast. And use bullets.

  • Friday got off work and went to a sex party with buddies “Andre” and “Bertrand” but it was filled with fat, out-of-shape dudes so we jetted and went bar hopping. “Don’t leave, you’re taking the party with you,” one guy said.
  • “Sex on the Beach,” a young college student with a 10-inch dick that I met at the beach last summer, was in town and hooked up with us later that evening. Bertrand went home and “Sex on the Beach” and Andre and I started freaking at his place. I swear Andre sucked on that long black, young dick for hours. For once I was mostly on the sidelines.
  • Dawn came and we went online and pulled four more guys over and had a honest to goodness freak party.A Jamaican dude with a little dick, a light-skinned bottom, a very vocal bottom, and one other dude. I had been up almost two days straight..it was a blur.
  • After everybody busted that nutt we were hungry so the sex party moved to a diner for breakfast. The waiter was gay and I could tell he knew what was up. “Did you boys have fun last night?,” he asked. I played dumb and just smiled.
  •  Did family stuff all day Saturday and worked a part-time job that night.
  • Sunday night planned to crash but a buddy, “Darren,” called. “I got two  bottoms coming over and I need help.” So I went over to help him tag team them. One was light skinned and short and the other taller and dark. They were a little pudgy too. But they threw good sex. Darren is 6 feet 4 with a 8-inch dick and I’m 6 feet 2 with a bigger one. We took turns swapping bottoms, banging them so hard that sometimes the bed rocked. The dark-skinned one was so appreciative of my pounding he licked and sucked my toes afterward. Now that was nice.
  • Last night I reconnected with “Oliver,” the dude I was feeling. He opened the door before I could ring the bell — I could tell he missed me too. It was a sweet night, far better than the frenetic weekend. And for the first time I fucked him. It felt different, more passionate. We talked nasty shit to each other while we fucked. I can honestly say I want to do that again. “Next time, don’t fuck me so hard,” he said. I guess Oliver didn’t understand I was working out pent-up desire and frustration. I have learned to enjoy him when I can because when we are together we are connected but when apart the connection seems to fade away, kinda like a dream you had at night but can’t remember in the morning. Damn, I texted him today and he didn’t even text back. I wasn’t surprised.

Jumping Time


Last summer I threesomed with “Jake” and “Phil,” a gay, professional black couple. I thought they had a good balance, the ability to live together and play together sexually with others.

But I was wrong. A few weeks after I banged his boy doggy style bent over a sofa, Jake started hitting me up, saying he was interested in getting with me alone. He would send me shots of himself in various, non-sexual poses. Like photos of himself getting a hair cut or posing on a hiking trail. Just random shit.

“I want to fuck you,” he said.

“Not interested man. I’m a top,” I would answer.”By the way, does Phil know you are calling me Jake.”

“No,” he would say.

Over time Jake’s telephone conversations got more erratic and rambling. He was once married and said he wanted to go back to being with a woman because  he was getting older and desired children. Then he swore he was in love with me. Other times he would say he still loved Phil but didn’t want to live with him or fuck him.

My mother grew up down south and often uses old-fashioned, country sayings. Sometimes when a person she knew would ramble off at the mouth and say crazy shit she would mutter, “They are jumping time.”

The saying I think refers to a car with a faulty timing belt. They idle fast and then slow, rev up and down. When I talked to Jake I would think of mama’s saying.

Last week he called me at 11:30 at night, waking me from a sound sleep. The conversation was the same — all over the place. He and Jake were breaking up, he was in love with some new boy, he was tired of the “superficial” gay life, some family members were praying for him to go straight, and he wanted a woman again and to have kids.

Jumping time.

I had enough. Nigger was fucking with my sleep.

“Look Jake, if you get married in a few months you will be cheating on her with dudes…you like a man’s ass!”

“If you want kids adopt or get a foster child. A lot of gay men do.”

“If you and Phil are having problems or you feel yourself going crazy go get counseling. You are a professional and have health care. Mental issues are covered.”

“And stop being so self centered. When I get obsessed with my problems I volunteer. Why don’t you do the same. It might make you feel better.”

The next day Jake called to say thank you and the conversation had helped his state of mind. We all agreed to meet at a gay club. He and Phil had decided to break up but were still friendly.

Last Saturday he texted me saying he wanted to go out. And Phil would join him. We met at one club and went to a second. Phil stayed at the first but told me I could roll with Jake, just bring him home safe. From the wistful, tender way Phil said it I could tell he still loved Jake but was weary of him too.

We went to the second club, split up and I had fun hanging with my buddy rex, who was also there. But when I drove Jake home things got crazier and crazier. Maybe because he had been drinking.

Jake told me he was feeling me and demanded I kiss him. Then he put his hand on my crotch right over my dick.

“Nigger, take your fucking hand off my dick,” I growled. “If you don’t I’ll pull over, kick you out with my size 12 foot, and you can walk the fuck home.”

“Why are you so mean to me Immanuel,” he whined.

“Because I’m not feeling you. So don’t try to go there.”

He jumped time and started to criticize my friends he had met at the club, calling them “dirty” and beneath his level.

“I’m Ivy League educated,” he bragged.

“Dude, I know folks with doctorates that don’t have common sense,” I responded.

Then he jumped time again.

“I  hope I’m not HIV positive.”

“Dude what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m in love with this dude and I fuck him raw. I found out he is HIV positive and I kept fucking him. I’ve fucked him like 30 times.”

“Jake, are you crazy? Put on a condom dude. You know better than that. We’re not some young kids. Go get an HIV test next week.”

I couldn’t wait to get him home. Phil had to come down to let us into the condominium building.

“I’m going to have a talk with Phil man,” I said to Jake.

“No please don’t tell him all this,” Jake whined like a five-year old trying to get a friend not to tattle on him.

I sat both of them down in the lobby. I told Phil Jake had been calling me repeatedly since last summer but I did not tell him Jake had been hitting on me. I didn’t bring up the HIV issue either. I just told Phil that Jake needed help and how the hell could he put up with his bullshit.

Jake jumped time again. “I don’t want to hear this,” he said, probably trying to cut he conversation short before I told the real dirt. “Let’s go Phil.”

I pushed him back down the sofa. “Nigger, if you get up again before I’m ready for you to leave I will beat…the…fucking…shit..out…of…you,” I growled, emphasizing each word,

Jake sat down and shut the hell up. Phil just looked weary. It was two o’clock in the morning.

“Look, I don’t have time for your issues,” I said to the both of them. “I got issues too. I just separated from my wife, moved out and embarked on a new life, and am starting a new career. But you don’t see my whining and complaining. If you two are going to break up, just break up.”

Phil finally ended the conversation. He said he and Jake were making plans to separate. I couldn’t argue with that. I gave Phil a heartfelt hug and I rolled the fuck out, leaving the two of them to their misery.

This morning Jake sent a picture message on my phone. An image of a breakfast table after the meal is over. Plates with half eaten food on them. Crazy. Dumb. Shit.

I erased it and did not answer back.

The Old Man


I met old man at the sex club on Sunday. He said he was in his early 50s but looked over 60.

Everything about him was baggy. His clothes. His coat. His hat. Even his eyes had bags under them. But he still had fire burning in his loins and a gleam in his eyes.

“Come over here with your fine, tall ass self,” he said, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me close. “I saw that bubble ass you got back there.”

I laugh. “Dude, I’m a top. Why don’t you go fuck that dude over there.”
I motion toward this young, slender black guy who is walking around the club buck naked, his eyes glassy. He looks high as a kite.
“Oh no,” old man says. “He looks kinda weird.”
He turned his attention back to me. “Well, when you get ready to give up that ass, let me know. You just ain’t met the brother that can do it right.”
He didn’t have looks. And he didn’t have clothes. But he did have confidence. That made up for a lot of things.
Later we sit down to watch the football game in the video room and we get to talking.
“Look, you’ve been around awhile. Have down-low brothers always been doing this?”
“Oh yeah man,” he says, laughing.
He talks about growing up in Tidewater Virginia near a military base and all the down-low servicemen he used to meet up with and fuck when he was a teenager and young man.
“There was a lot going on on military bases,” he said. He smiles and his eyes take on a nostalgic, faraway look like all those tight bodies he sexed back in the 1960s and 70s are parading before his eyes at that very moment.
Old man eventually moved to the big city and the chase continued.
It was interesting to talk to him about how dudes hooked up in the olden days before the World Wide Web, cell phones and text messages.
“Men used to join clubs like the Masons and fraternities and shit. A lot of down-low freaking used to go on. And a lot of times the wives knew but if a guy was a good provider they would just turn the other cheek and accept it.
“We used to hook up a lot just by eye contacct back in the day. You would stare a guy down. You always kept your phone number on a piece of paper in your pocket. If you were in mixed company you would walk up to the dude and slide him your number and then arrange to hook up later, We had to do things that way then.
“But when AIDS came around that scared a lot of people and a lot of guys just dropped out of sight,” he continued.
We talked some more and exchanged numbers. I noticed he didn’t get any action but he held cconversations with several other older guys. It was clear they knew each other and enjoyed each other’s company.
Maybe in another 20 years I will be the same way. The tired looking black man hanging out at the sex club, telling the fine young boys what I used to be like when I was young and could still get my dick hard.
Nah…I don’t think so.

A Fun Weekend (Hanging with the Homeboys)


“Why are you trying to have a relationship now,” my buddy “Andre” says.

“You just separated from your wife. You’re new in this lifestyle. You don’t even know what you want.”
I have to admit Andre is right — as usual. The friendship with “Oliver” is getting tiresome  — I’m not feeling that shit. Dude is too into himself but then it’s my fault also because I rushed the shit. So last weekend I decided to go out and explore and have fun…and some great sex. And I accomplished my mission.
Here’s the run-down:
Friday, 5:30 p.m.:
I took the kids and their friends out for a pizza party at local restaurant. I knew the weekend was going to get off to a great start because an old college buddy and his wife and kids happened to be at the same restaurant. The conversation was great and I’m really enjoying my children more. They are teenagers now and trying to act soooo cool. They think they are reinventing the wheel. They don’t realize yet that what they are going through adults have been through too. I smile at them from across the table, marveling at how beautiful they are to me. I am blessed.
Friday, 9 p.m.:
It’s freezing outside and I’m back in my bed at the apartment I share with a straight roommate, fully intending to sleep in and relax. But I go online and get invited to a threesome in a town a 40-minute drive to the north. I had already jacked off to relax and told “Ben” that.
“Hey man, I got a hot bottom,” Ben says. “If you’re not feeling it just come up and chill.”
What the hell? I’m free now. I wash up and hop in the car.
Friday 10:30:
Ben lives in a nice colonial home way out in the sticks in a community with no sidewalks. I get there and find out the bottom guy we were going to bang out cancelled. So here we are, two mainly tops, sitting there looking at each other.
Ben is 45 years old, dark-brown skin, slightly overweight but still nice looking. We both have long, thick-ass dicks.

It seems he doesn’t want to have sex, but just company. We sit back and drink mimosas made from left-over New Year’s champagne and orange juice, and watch “Marley and Me” on television and lay together on the sofa, his head at one end and my head at the other and our legs tangled together. He has a roaring fire going.

It turns out we have a lot in common. He just separated from his wife. He claims it wasn’t because he liked dudes but because she was trifling, didn’t clean house, and was into hanging out with her girlfriends and spending his money.
I think to myself: “Yeah, right…I bet she found out you like dude dick and ass.”
He says he is happy but I can tell he is lonesome. He has the television going, the stereo and a radio in the upstairs hallway – anything to break the silence of the big empty house. He has a three-year old daughter and her toys are packed neatly in a corner of the family room, waiting for her next visit.
“I’m happier now,” Ben says. But I wonder. I can tell he misses his little girl.

Eventually, we start sexing. You see, he kept plying me with mimosas because he wanted to get me drunk and flip me and put his dick in my ass.

“You have a small ass but it’s pretty and tight,” he says.

I’ve tried bottoming a few times (curiosity killed the cat) but the shit is not for me. I just wont let the dick go in more than an inch. I’d much rather be on top, banging an ass out.

But he’s a cool dude so I try but its not working and I don’t try to make it work. Then he admits he likes to take dick so I try to fuck him but his hole is too tight too. So we give up. He jacks off while sitting astride me, grinding his ass into my dick.
His cum splatters over my chest and stomach. I wipe it off. The fire dies down and we go to sleep in a pallet of blankets in front of the fireplace.

Saturday, 6:30 a.m.:
I get up and bid Ben goodbye. We exchange numbers and end up texting throughout the weekend. I think we will be friends, if only on a platonic level.
I have a busy day ahead. I run home and shower, do my banking, and pick up the kids and some of their friends to take them to a local black history museum.
It is a Saturday so I don’t pay the meter. The guard on duty advises me to do so because the city tickets even on Saturdays. So I run to a local bar and get change, feed the meter and run back to the museum.

The exhibit is very informative but so small the kids have run through it by the time I get back. So they play hide-and-seek with me, hiding behind the displays, while I read stuff that interests me.

Their giggles and laughter echo through the space.

Saturday, 4:30 p.m.:

I drop off the kids after lunch and go back to my spot and my phone rings. It is “Aaron,” this brother I met at a sex party last summer. Aaron grew up in Seattle and has a cool, laid back West Coast style. Mellow.

And he has the sexy voice of Barry White.

“Come over and watch football with me,” he says. “I’ll buy the beer. What do you want?”

“Corona man,” I answer.

I go over and we watch the first half. Aaron showers and comes back and lays on the bed.

We are both 45 but stay in shape and look youthful for our years. He has a boyfriend but we get together on the sly. We lay on his bed and play sometimes — no fucking, just good, intense foreplay. We don’t even have to cum it’s so good.

 Aaron has Creole in his blood and has skin the color of coffee and milk.

“I usually don’t like red niggers but I like you,” I quip.

He cracks up

I love to eat his ass — it is hairy and I lick and lap at his ass and nibble and tug at the hair lightly with my teeth, making him moan.  Aaron sometimes lays back and smokes a blunt to get his head right and inhales rush to heighten his sexual pleasure.

Soon he is returning the favor, licking and sucking my dick and nibbling my nipples.

But my phone rings. I have a movie date with  my buddy “Linton.” He is a nice dude and our conversations are always thought-provoking so I’m not going to break it. Besides Aaron has to go to party at the home of the guy who supplies his weed. I know he doesn’t want to miss getting high for free on Saturday night.

“He is straight and I know he will have girls there,” Aaron tells me while he picks out a Dallas jersey to wear to the party, which will take place during the Dallas-Philadelphia football game. “I hope he doesn’t try to hook me up.”

Aaron is very masculine and used to fuck women. I could see a girl wanting to have that red nigga’s baby.

Saturday, 9 p.m.:

I meet “Linton” downtown and we buy movie tickets and run across the street to catch part of the football game before the film, a romantic comedy, starts.

My mood darkens. Dallas is beating Philly’s ass. I hate Dallas and all Dallas fans.

We go to the movie. It’s actually pretty good although it’s not my taste — it’s more of a chick flick. But Linton is great company, handsome, and keeps the conversation flowing.

But before the movie starts I get a little quiet and stare down at my lap, which is unusual because I’m known for being the life of the party.

“You’re thinking about Oliver,” Linton says.

No I wasn’t thinking about Oliver. I was texting Oliver.

 A friend of his had flown in from out of town and was staying with him, a fact he forgot to tell me during a week of provocative, sensual texts. He said they used to hook up but weren’t doing that any more. I think to myself: This flat ass, lanky motherfucker really must really think I’m stupid.

“Why don’t you come and freak with us. I’m not feeling him but I will have sex if you come,” Oliver texts.

“I made other plans for the evening. Have fun with your boy.”

“Oh, he is not my boy. We will just chill now,” Oliver answers. I think: “they will just find another top to fuck them both.”

I drop Linton off after the movie and then go my buddy “rex” a few blocks away because it’s late and I don’t feel like driving all the way home. rex and I chill out in his bed and watch a “Will and Grace” episode on DVD. There is a character in an episode that rex said acted just like a dude we threesomed with once, this professional dancer.

Sure enough, the “Will and Grace” character acted the same way — he is a dancer who dances when it’s not appropriate. Like when he is walking down the street.

rex and I fucked this dude so good he started doing dance moves for us after I busted a  nutt in his face– pirouettes or plies or some shit. The resemblance was uncanny and rex and I burst out laughing remembering.

Sunday, 7:30 a.m.

I promise to take the kids to church and I do. The sermon is good, about how God protects his people so don’t worry. I compliment the minister on his performance afterward. Then I take my kids to the barbership.

One of the barbers is a lesbian and mad cool. She is like one of the dudes, down to her curly, close cut fade.

We talk about Tiger Woods and basketball player Gilbert Arenas and his guns in the locker room.

“Dumb ass, making all that money and don’t know how to act,” lesbian says. “They should have suspended his ass.”

I can’t agree more.

Sunday, 1 p.m.: 

Okay, you think Sunday I would rest.

 But no sooner than I got home and lay down for a Sunday afternoon nap than “Graham” hits me up online. Graham has done porno acting. The guy throws good ass. He is small and tight and you can bend and pull and push and lick him any way you want. He gives good sex right back at you — he is vigorous and vocal.

So you know I was going to tap that.

“See you in a half hour,” I tell Graham.

On the way there I call Oliver just to talk shit. The conversation is short. In fact he has to hang up and call me from another phone in the house.

“I’ll phone you after this Sunday shit,” he says. Which I translate to mean: After I finish hanging with my out-of-town buddy and get him out I will honor you with the pleasure of my company.

I smile to myself. I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m having much more fun without him.

“It’s not crucial you call me back,” I say and I really mean it. “I’m cool.”

I go over to Graham and fuck the shit out of him. It’s hot. We do it doggy style, missionary style. Him face down on the bed with his ass plumped up in the air with pillows under his stomach. After fucking I lay back on the bed and jack off for him. The cum shoots up like a water fountain, landing on my inner thigh.

After its over: “Graham is it really true you did pornos?”

“Yep, I really did one and some photos for magazines. They flew me up to Canada to have sex with a straight porn actor. He was fine as hell — he was mixed with Egyptian or some shit. But I had to do all the work because he was straight so the sex was awful. But I made $5,000.”

“Later actor wanted me to have sex with him again on film but I was like, ‘No thank you.'”

“Wow,” is about all I can say. Five thousand for sex. And I’ve been doing it all along for free.

Sunday 4 p.m.:

There is a new sex club on the way in town that is half priced before 5 p.m. so I go in to chill. They have the football game playing in the video room so I catch that too.

It’s mostly empty but a black dude with dreads comes in. Before long we get to playing and pull off our clothes. I’m surprised — he is muscular as shit under the baggy clothes. And I turn him on because we keep meeting back up and playing again and again.

We end our play time standing next to each other, tongue kissing and caressing each other’s hard bodies, while two bottom guys are kneeling in front of us sucking our dicks.

“Suck that nigger’s pretty long black dick,” he orders the guy sucking me.

“Suck that motherfucker’s dick,” I say to the guy sucking him off. “You know that shit tastes good.”

All the mutual aggression and swagger gets us off and we get ready to cum.

“Oooh, I’m coming. Suck that nutt out,” Dreadlocks says to his bottom. The he shot his semen right in the guys mouth and dude slurps it up like fine wine. A minute later I jack off and bust not one but two nutts.

I get weak at the knees.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

Sunday, 7 p.m.:

I drop by Andre’s house on the way out of town. I am hungry from all that sex so I get some Popeye’s chicken to eat while we talk. Andre is pissed at me…he had invited me to a marathon dance party but I went to the movies with Linton instead.

 “You stood me up for some ass,” Andre grumbles. He is so handsome and funny laying in his bathrobe on the sofa I can’t help but laugh. He was the one who told me to go out and explore this weekend and I did.

Besides, I know he will be mad at me a moment but we are buddies and will make up by Monday.

“Andre I had a great weekend. I really had a lot of fun hanging out with friends.”

And I did.

 

Xavier


I met him a few weeks ago. Not for a hookup but just to talk, because he really needed a friend.

“Xavier” is handsome and successful. He flies around the world for his job, drives a top of the line Lexus and lives in a mini mansion in a gated golf course community. A handsome, brown skinned, slightly plump brother with hair so curly it looks wet.

But his eyes have a haunted, guilty look. He is yet another married brother who is gay but trapped by family and societal expectations. We meet online and I tell him I have separated from my wife. He reads the blog and agrees to meet me. We talk in the parking lot of the apartment building where I live.

“My wife found out I like men so we are trying to work through it,” he says.

“Wow, how is that working out?”

“Well, we agreed to have an open relationship but now a guy is calling her and I have to admit I’m jealous.”

“Look Xavier, you don’t have kids so why not just get out of the marriage and let her be free to pursue her interests and you be free to do yours. Plus dude you are a bottom. You like dick. There is nothing wrong with that. It is the way God made you. So be yourself.”

But Xavier said he is not ready to drop the facade of a successful black male with the perfect job, perfect wife and perfect house. He said he was afraid of how his family would react and he didn’t like society’s attitude toward gay men.

I guess he is afraid he will branded a sissy. Never mind that many gay and bisexual men I meet are very masculine.

Well something changed in the past month. He called me today but I didn’t have time to talk to him.  So he sent this text to my cellphone:

“So much has changed since last convo. The mrs and I have temp seperated. Will chat with u later. Xavier”

One reason I decided to write this blog is to connect with men in a similar situation and offer support. Xavier reached out to me just to talk and to bare his emotions. That takes bravery. And maybe I set an example…who knows?

Things will work out Xavier. Just take them one day at a time.