“Lawrence” texted me at work on Friday afternoon.
Lawrence is a married, down-low brother who is 61 years old but works out like a fiend and still has a tight, lean body. The contrast of his salt-and-pepper hair with his youngish body only makes him hotter. He is definitely a DILTF — a “Daddy I Like to Fuck.”
Lawrence is also stone bottom — when he is ready to be fucked he is ready to be nailed.
Lawrence said he was just texting me to say hello and check out how I was making out now that I was separated from my wife. But I knew the real deal — Lawrence texts me every few months when he wants some dick from me.
He will give his wife an excuse — he is going to the gym or dropping the dog off at groomers or working at a remote office. And we will meet in a hotel room and I will push his knees up to his chest and pound my dick in his muscular, high ass missionary style. Slap! Pap! Pap! Pap!
“Yes sir, Yes sir! That’s what I’m talking about,” Lawrence will moan, sounding just like a deacon a church exhorting the minister to pray harder. Except we are in a sweaty hotel bed and he is urging me to fuck him harder.
So when Lawrence texts me on my cellphone Friday I try to prevent him from getting on the subject of the next hookup by inviting him to join a support group for down-low men I am thinking about forming.
“Let me think about that,” he answers.
“I guess that means the answer is no,” I text back.
“Well, I didn’t let my sexuality interfere with my marriage.”
“I didn’t either. My marriage was troubled before I got into guys,” I answer.
But what Lawrence texted made me mad — like I was somehow less than able because I was not continuing to juggle marriage and man sex like he continued to do. I started typing furiously on text phone, telling him that his marriage was not “good” if he was running around hooking up with men in hotels and periodically planning sexcapades with dudes while on business trips. I told him in effect he was living a lie — his marriage was just a front.
Besides I had rolled with Lawrence for a year and only seen his dick semi-erect one time. He sure as hell wasn’t fucking his wife with that limp shit.
“I understand that but at the same time I think you are faking yourself out,” I texted him. “And to a large extent your life is false.”
“Then this conversation his over!,” he texted back. I messaged him a few more times but he did not answer back.
He will call back in a few weeks when the urge to get a dick overpowers him again.
Brothers such as Lawrence trip me out. They act like desiring men is a sickness that comes and go. You get the itch, scratch it until it’s gone, and pray it doesn’t come back for a long time.
The same evening Lawrence and I fell out another married down-low brother I know, “Bruce” (Read “A Very Short Sex Party”) e-mailed me to say the urge to be with men was getting stronger. It had gotten so bad that he was frequently telling his wife he was working late but going to spend time with a male lover.
“Dude, why don’t you just separate and live your life,” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to get up out of here soon,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m just waiting until the time is right.”
I talked to some gay buddies over the last few days about the exchange with Lawrence. I’m still feeling upset about it more than a day later and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I know it was a text message exchange but it was like he hung up on me.
Several friends I told said some men just aren’t brave enough to step out of the down-low world and be fully gay. When I jumped on Lawrence I had probably hit a nerve, which is why he abruptly cut off contact.
“Man, living a double life is a hard thing,” one buddy said. “Having to lie all the time is stressful. It takes a toll on a brother.”
Yeah, I ought to know. That’s why I stopped doing it.