The Ghost of Lovers Past

Photo courtesy of

Photo courtesy of

Last month I was sitting in my doctor’s office, waiting to have a back pain issue checked out, listening to music on my headphones to pass the time. And I had a waking dream so vivid it was like it was real.

I was an old man, sitting on a sofa with somebody’s head cradled in my lap. And I looked down and it was my ex lover, “Morgan.” He was older and frail and clearly ill. I caressed the stubble on his chin and cheeks and looked into his eyes, which were still a warm brown.

“I told you I would come back to you when you needed me,” I said.

I’m not lying. The very second I said that in the dream my cellphone buzzed, breaking me out of the trance. I looked down at the caller ID and it was “Morgan.”

I picked it up.

“Hey Morgan, what’s up?”

“I’m at Founding Farmers, that restaurant you like. What do you order here?”

It seemed a stupid reason to call me. Like an excuse just to make contact. But I stayed polite.

“It’s a great restaurant and everything there is good. I think I ordered a sandwich with prosciutto ham and cheese.”


“Okay, see ya Morgan.”

I waited a few minutes. And I sent him a text. “You know its funny. I was just thinking about you and you called.”

“Something said call Immanuel,” he answered.

“LOL well at least we still have some connection.”

“I always do that with people I am emotionally attached to,” he responded.

Morgan was the first man I really loved and no matter the circumstances of the breakup I guess we will always be connected.

Sometimes I will do something that I want to brag to somebody about and think, “Wow, I should tell Morgan this.” But then I remember I can’t call because we are not lovers and really not even friends.

When I can’t go to sleep at night I can hug a pillow and pretend I am snuggling up against his broad back and doze right off. And I can still fantasize about having sex with him or watching him have sex with someone else and get aroused.

Every so often he will text. About two months ago he called me. I could tell from the background noise he was driving.

“I miss you. I think about you all the time,” he said.

He is a stoic man at times. He once told me he prided himself on being like Spock from Star Trek. The half Vulcan/half human who always kept his emotions in check. So I know how hard it is for Morgan to say that.

If only he had been more demonstrative when we were together. Maybe. Maybe…

I pause slightly before answering.

“I think about you, too,” I say, quietly.  And I quickly get off the phone.

Morgan has also said he could have communicated better when we were partners. And that he is an enigma. But I answer that he is not a mystery at all. That he was pretty easy to figure out, at least for me.

I just wish Morgan would figure himself out.






Florida Swinging: Seducing the Straight Boy

“Arthur,” the older gay man I wrote about in “How Arthur Got a New Pair of Sneakers,” just happened to vacation in Florida the same time “Van” and I were.

And he brought along a few gay friends and his office assistant “Kendrick,” who Arthur insisted was straight as an arrow. We got together with Arthur for brunch at Rosie’s Bar and Grill, a popular gay hangout with great food, and parted ways.

Photo courtesy of

This guy reminds me of Kendrick, but Kendrick was even more handsome. Photo courtesy of

The next day Van and I hit the beach. We were walking back to our hotel when we ran into “Zack,” another friend of Arthur who we had met the day before,  and Kendrick.

I thought it was odd a handsome, straight, 24-year-old young man would be hanging around a middle-aged gay man, especially with all the fine women running around in bikinis.

“Everybody thinks we are lovers,” Zack joked. Kendrick just smiled shyly.

Kendrick is a slender, brown-skinned young man from North Carolina with a broad shoulders and a small waist. His eyes are a light shade of brown, and looked coppery in the bright Florida sun. His tongue is pierced and he had the classic thug look — sagging shorts with underwear showing, wife beater tee-shirt, and tattoos.

We had ice cream and then invited Zack and Kendrick back to our hotel room so Van and I could wash off the beach sand. We then planned to head out to a restaurant for lunch.

To make a long story short Zack ended up wanting more than a lunch excursion. “You guys are so sexy. I want to see what you look like in the bathing suits under your shorts.”

So he came back in the bedroom while we undressed and we ended up playing around a bit — just some oral and kissing etc. Then Van, Zack and I took a shower together and we played some more in the suds.

After awhile I stopped and got out. “Hey, this is kind of rude. Kendrick is sitting in the living room alone.”

So we got out and dressed and Zack sat down and talked with Kendrick. A few minutes later he walked back to the bedroom to talk to me.

“Kendrick is curious about having sex with a dude. I told him all we could do is some oral and body play and he seemed cool with that.”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Isn’t he supposed to be straight? Arthur said he has three babies by three different women.”

“Ah, just go ahead, try,” Zack said, grinning.

So I went to the dining room where Kendrick sat texting on his phone and invited him to the bedroom.

“Take my hand,” I said.

Kendrick again smiled shyly and  kept his eyes down. But he took my hand. And I led him to the bedroom.

I made him lay on his back on the bed and close his eyes. Then I pulled up his white tee-shirt and started licking his nipples. His body was beautiful and tight and he smelled faintly of sweat and salty air.

Van came into the bedroom. I glanced up and could see his surprise I was in bed with Kendrick. But Van jumped right into the scene and was soon licking Kendrick’s left nipple while I worked on the right.

Then I gently kissed Kendrick’s neck while he lay on his back with his eyes still closed.

I reached down and touched his crotch through his shorts. His dick was just a little hard.

I stopped the action. I didn’t have time for this. There were too many real gay men in Fort Lauderdale to be schooling a young man who probably didn’t know if he was straight or gay or bisexual or what.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling this that much,” Kendrick said.

“It’s no problem man. It’s cool,” I said.

Kendrick didn’t have much money so Zack, Van and I gave him a few dollars to go out and eat and catch the bus back to the hotel. And we went out to hang at the gay spots.

“I think he just needs the right gay man to turn him out. Probably somebody closer to his own age,” I later said.

“I think the problem was it just wasn’t the right moment,” Van said. “I mean Zack was sitting outside and he is on a trip with his boss Arthur. I think under the right circumstances he would.”

“I think he is open to the thought of (gay sex). Otherwise he wouldn’t be hanging around gay men.”

What do you think?


Florida Swinging: White Men’s Pets


No matter where “Van” and I went in Ft. Lauderdale we saw the same thing. Older white men with much younger black men in in their company.
They were on the beaches. In the restaurants. Window shopping.
Oftentimes the white man would seem well-heeled, driving a Mazzerati, BMW or Benz.   And the black guy would look like they were barely out of college.
Oftentimes the black “pet,” as I liked to call them, would be very slender, shorter and dark-skinned. And very feminine.
And they seemed to fawn over their white masters lovers like little lap dogs.


The pets would glance over at Van and me and give us a glance I couldn’t figure out. Was that slight embarrassment or a look of superiority?
Unlike most black men they wouldn’t even nod or say hello to Van and me. They just looked at and through us like we didn’t exist.
Our Florida friends hipped us to the game we already knew. A lot of older white gay men in South Florida keep young black men.
Sure they might get money, a nice crib and spending money but I knew the trap they were in.

I have a friend who lives in Florida named “Conrad” who was kept by a white man. Conrad lived with this man in his expensive South Beach home and had access to his luxury car. They vacationed in Europe.
But when Conrad turned 30 the white man broke up with him and soon found a younger model. And Conrad was left without a home. Hell he didn’t even get an education or property out of the deal.
I mean if you are going  to be kept get something out of it.
Just when I was getting disgusted seeing this kept boy scenario everywhere Van and I decided to take in the movie “Belle” one afternoon.
And I saw something that restored my hope that gay relationships between men of different races can be healthy.
A middle-aged interracial couple was leaving the movie. They were close in age and neither looked especially attractive but they had a beautiful spirit about them.
The black man had injured his foot and wore one of those plastic boots and limped.
His white partner walked slowly and carefully beside him as if he was ready to catch him if he stumbled. His tenderness was sweet.
They smiled and talked quietly to each other, perhaps about the film they just saw.
The sight of them made my heart smile.

Florida Swinging: The Jamaican

The section of the Fort Lauderdale strip near Sebastian Avenue is where gays gather. Photo courtesy of

The section of the Fort Lauderdale strip near Sebastian Avenue is where gays gather. Photo courtesy of

My boyfriend “Van” has a timeshare in Ft. Lauderdale and has been here several times and knows the area pretty well. He also has made friends here, including a guy named “Tristan” from Jamaica.

“Hey I called my friend Tristan and he wants to meet us at the beach. He has Fridays off. Do you want to go,” Van asked me on Friday morning, our first day in Florida.

“Sure, no problem,” I answered. “You know I am here to lay on the beach.”

So we drove a mile down the strip to Sebastian Avenue, a section of the strip at Ft. Lauderdale where gay men gather. By talking on our cellphones we were able to find Tristan laying on a towel in the light brown sand.

Tristan was born in Jamaica but immigrated to the United States with his family. He and Van had originally met in Washington, D.C., where Tristan had worked for several years.

They had had hooked up a few times but then Tristan had disappeared. Then a few years ago Van visited Ft. Lauderdale and hit a local bathhouse and ran into Tristan again and rekindled the friendship.

Tristan had warned Van he had put on a few pounds — evidently he had six-pack abs and bulging biceps back in the day. But the brown-skinned man laying on the towel was still handsome, with a little belly, bowlegs and a big smile.

“Hey Tristan,” Van said, embracing him. “This is my boyfriend Immanuel.”

“Hey Immanuel,” Tristan said, shaking my hand. He still had a soft Jamaican accent and a deep voice, which I found sexy.

We lay on the beach and played in the blue surf awhile. Van is not much of a swimmer but I am so I went back in the water. When I came back I noticed Tristan looking at me appreciatively and leaning over talking to Van. I thought nothing of it.

We planned to go out to lunch but our room was ready earlier than we expected so we decided to drop off our luggage first. Tristan followed us over and came up to the room. He admired the one-bedroom suite and kitchen. Then we sat on the sofa and chatted.

All afternoon Tristan had been bragging about what a freak he is and how he loved to give oral, so there was already some sexual tension. Just when I thought we were going to get up and go to lunch Tristan said, “Well, aren’t we going to play around?”

I grinned. Van had set up our first threesome of the vacation and I didn’t even know it. Matter of fact, Van later told me while I was in the water playing Tristan had been commenting on how sexy I was. For a man celebrating the big 5-0 birthday that was a huge compliment.

“Okay, why not? Let’s play,” I said.

Five minutes later we  were naked and in bed. Tristan dived on my dick while I lay back on the bed, sucking it down to the base and playing with my ass. This Jamaican wasn’t lying, he could suck dick.

Then I lay back while Van sucked on Tristan’s nipples and they connected tongues. It was hot to watch and my dick got harder. So I put on a condom, lubed up, pushed Van back on his back, climbed between his long track runner legs and started fucking.

Van’s moans are so sexy they make you want to fuck him even harder. So I did.

After awhile I stopped and Tristan started fucking Van missionary style. He had a nice bubble brown ass. It was sexy watching it bob up and down. So I played with it with my fingers and bent down and licked and lapped his ass.

“Ummm,” Tristan moaned.

When I came up for air Van motioned for me to lean forward so he could speak in my ear. “You can fuck him,” Van said.

Wow, I thought Tristan was a straight top. But he was verse.

So I put on another condom, squirted some lube on Tristan’s asshole, and slid up into him while he fucked Van. His ass was warm around my dick. I pushed in slowly till I felt my dick hit press that second hole. Then it popped through.

“Oooooh, nigger give me that dick,” Tristan moaned.

I smiled and thrust away harder. Tristan is a successful professional and was kind of buttoned down on the beach. It was hot to see him get off on my dick and say shit he would never say on the street.

The session ended with me laying on my back and Van riding me. Van jerked off while I fucked him and then shot nutt all the way up to my neck. Damn, he had never shot that far before. Then I jerked off and my nutt pooled on my stomach and navel.

Then Tristan jerked off and shot nutt over my chest. I was covered in cum.

“Damn, you guys messed me all up. I’m not used to this shit,” I said jokingly.

Van and Tristan just laughed.

“Usually it is me that gets the nutt all over me,” Van said.

I jumped up and hit the shower. What a great way to start a vacation.


The Couple that Plays Together…

Some gay couples are so comfortable in their relationship they easily play sexually with others. Photo courtesy of

Some gay couples are so comfortable in their relationship they easily play sexually with others. Photo courtesy of

A few weeks ago I was at a popular sex party thrown by an African guy in the basement of his rowhouse in East Baltimore.

The room was humid and dark, so I stood against the wall in the shadows and just observed a couple fucking furiously on a mattress in front of me.

But then this tall, chocolate covered brother brushed against me. Then he put out his hand and started fondling my body. And before I knew it we were kissing and groping, ignoring everybody else around.

“What’s your name,” I whispered in his ear.

“Ivan,” he said.


“Hey Immanuel, come in the bathroom with me. I want some privacy.”

So I followed him. We went in the bathroom and shut the door and turned on the light. I hadn’t been able to see him clearly in the dark and surprisingly he was very handsome. He reminded me Bryce Wilson, the actor from “Beauty Shop” and rapper and musician from Mantronix and Groove Theory.

Ivan sat on the toilet and motioned for me to put my dick in his mouth. And I did and he sucked in rapidly while holding onto my hips and pulling me in closer. In a few minutes he stopped and looked me in the eyes.

“I want to see that nutt.”

I was already close so I jacked off a load of thick creamy nutt on his chest and washed up in the sink.

Then we got to talking. I told him I was dating someone and in an open relationship and he told me so was he.

“A matter of fact he’s here too,” Ivan said. “He’s the thick guy that was out there fucking that light-skinned dude.”

“Wait, he is here?” I asked. I immediately got uncomfortable. I was playing with some dude’s man in the bathroom. Who knew if he would get jealous and come in ready to fight.

My worry must have shown on my face because Ivan just smiled a bright movie star grin. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Victor and I go to sex parties with each other all the time.”

Later Ivan introduced me to Victor, a handsome stocky, dark-skinned dude with a ton of energy. They were in their late 30s or early 40s and had been with each other almost 10 years, which is forever in gay relationship years. They had each been married and had kids. They even wore matching tattoos that looked like black thunderbolts streaking across their dark skin.

You could see they cared deeply for each other and their was a camaraderie about them I admired.

A few weeks later I had a chance to talk to Victor about the arrangement. How did it work out for them?

“Hey man, it’s just sex. And dudes are going to fuck around anyway. So why not fuck around together?”

I think Ivan and Victor are on to something. I know several long-term black male gay couples. They all fool around, sometimes behind each other’s back or with the tacit approval of the other. So why not just be open about it?