I could never quite figure out “Ben,” a sex hookup I first met online almost a year ago.
We have met twice but the results were so-so because we are both primarily top down-low men who are not into bottoming, or being on the receiving end of taking dick.
Plus, I told Ben quite bluntly that sex with him is not good. Sex between two “tops” can be stellar because you concentrate on everything but penetration. However, Ben does not like to give head or even kiss. Shit, he barely talks.
Despite the brush off Ben has continued to text me and to invite me to his big house in the suburbs north of town. It seems he just likes my company, even if we do not say much to each other. We sit and sip red wine and watch rented movies on the Sony flat screen in his family room. His head at one end of the couch and mine at the other.
Sometimes I would look out of the corner of my eye and catch him eyeing me appreciatively.
“You have a nice ass man,” he would say sometimes.
“Look dude, I’m not into bottoming. I’ve tried that shit and it’s not me,” I would laughingly remind him.
Last Friday night after I got off from my part-time gig he invited me out to his place again and for some reason — boredom, loneliness or an expectation sex might get better — I went.
He has a lover in Miami and they were talking on the phone when I arrived. It had been a long day so I took a shower and came back and lay on his bed in my black boxer briefs while he finished the conversation. The NBA playoffs were on television– the Phoenix Suns were starting to spank the San Antonio Spurs in the final quarter– so I concentrated on the game.
“Does your lover know I am over here,” I asked when he got off the phone.
“Yeah, of course he does. But he is down there and I know he plays around too so it’s cool,” he answered.
Umm, I wondered. “Are you trying to make me desire you more by talking to your lover and ignoring me? Or are you trying to make him jealous because he knows I am here?”
After the game I got drowsier. I heard Ben get up and take off his clothes and lay back beside me. He is a handsome brother, brown-skinned with full lips and large eyes that seem to look right through you. Cool, poised and professional, even when he is relaxing. And very cocky, down to his walk.
“Could you give me a massage,” he asked.
“If you give me one too.”
“Okay, I’ll give you one first.”
So Ben pulled out a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and told me to lay on my stomach and he gave me a massage that relaxed me to the core. His fingers ran down from my shoulder blades to the small of my back where the hump of my buttocks began to rise. Kneading. Pressing. Pulling.
As I said before Ben rarely talks to me and I have complained his foreplay is lame. However, the massage surprised me. It was like a wordless, physical conversation between his body and mine. His massaging hands were talking to me.
“I like your body,” his palms said.
“You know you like this shit,” his fingers whispered.
“Yes,” I answered, moaning softly in appreciation of the back rub.
Ben’s penis, which is so large I swear it sometimes looks like a elephant trunk hanging from his abdomen, got hard. I felt it pressing against my ass and the back of my thighs as he massaged me. My dick got hard too and pressed into the mattress.
We traded places and I straddled his back to give him a massage. I took my time, trying to give him as a good a massage job as I got. I even massaged his arms and hands and fingers.
Then we lay down and for the first time I could remember he really talked to me like he gave a shit.
“I know you are active in your church,” he began. “You have to be careful about hanging out in the gay spots. People might see you and it might get back to the congregation. People are vicious in church. You have to be careful.”
“I haven’t been to a gay club in months and I don‘t go often,” I answered. “Thanks for the advice though. I will try to follow it.”
Then we lay down to sleep but didn’t right away. Sometimes I would hold him, pressing my dick up against his round ass. Sometimes he would hold me. Then we would part and my leg would touch his or his foot would touch mine and the pas de deux would start again.
No sex. Just cuddling. Nice.
We arose early in the morning. His lover called back and Ben motioned me to be quiet this time. I was beginning to think my theory about him wanting to make his long-distance lover jealous was on point.
“I think he’s mad at me,” he whispered. We hugged goodbye while he held the phone to his ear and I hit the road.
On Sunday I was instant messaging a reader of my blog named Raw Daddy on Yahoo (Check out his great blog by clicking here), and for some reason I decided to Google Ben‘s real name. I was so surprised I almost lost my breath for a moment. What I found out helped me figure out why he is so private and doesn‘t talk much. And why he warned me about church.
He is pastor of a church. He sometimes speaks as a guest at other congregations. And Ben has won awards for gospel music he has written.
“Shit. damn,” I messaged Raw Daddy.
I explained the situation. “I didn’t know he was a minister,” I explained.
“Come on. Don’t be so naïve. I know you aren‘t surprised,” Raw Daddy texted back. “All guys in church are good for is to fuck.”
“No man, don’t let that turn you off from God,” I texted, surprised Raw Daddy was so jaded. “God is really about love.”
Raw Daddy was right though. I know a lot of guys active in church are down-low, including myself.
But Ben had caught me off guard. There was nothing to indicate he was a minister. I didn’t notice so much as a Bible laying around his house. No crosses on the wall. In fact, he told me he was an educator. The biography on his church Web site did mention he had been a teacher and counselor, so that was partly true.
Ben is newly separated from his wife and and she was listed as First Lady of the congregation. In a photo Ben holds her in a warm embrace.
All I could think was: “Do they show up in church on Sundays and play the happy couple to keep the congregation happy?”
Read more about Ben in my blog entry “A Fun Weekend (Hanging with the Homeboys)”