Apologies for the gap in posting… I’ve just come back from a mind blowing New Years in Vegas… We’ll see just how much I feel like leaving there, but for now, I have a story to finish..
Where was I? Oh yes. Adam’s place in Brooklyn. After our scene, we lay sprawled on his bed like a pair of lazy kittens. For me, those small moments of intimacy after sex are their own locus of pleasure for me. I have yet to get involved with a man who does not like a certain degree of snuggling after sex. I’m starting to think that stereotype is a myth.
“So,” Adam whispered in my ear. “Any nefarious plans for this evening?”
“Sadly no.”
“What a shame. It would be awesome to have two boys in one day.”
Some time later, I untangled myself from his arms, slid into my street clothes, and walked back out into the real world. I had a student to tutor. Later that evening, I headed to a bar near Astor place, where a whole bunch of my friends gather every week. The first friendly face to greet me was Emma, who offered me an orange slice as soon as I sat down. I thanked her for letting me borrow her fiance for the better part of the afternoon.
She smiled.
I met and played with both Emma and Adam at the Chemistry party. She was the first girl ever to go down on me. One hammer stroke on the first nail of my heterosexuality coffin.
Enter Christian… fairly tall, long dark hair that he straightens, and very angular features. I couldn’t hear his midwestern accent over the din of the bar. It was only later that I heard just how pronounced his accent really is. He sat down and started chatting with us just as Emma got up to leave. She pecked me on the mouth and went her merry way. This caused Christian to raise half an eyebrow.
Unfortunately, I can no longer remember the word for word chronology of the conversation… The specifics aren’t important. He asked if Emma and I were a couple. I laughed, saying that no, we were just good friends. I decided to leave out the “and I occasionally fuck her fiance” part of the description… I don’t like scaring people off right away.
We got to talking about our relative points of geekery, first loves, and generation gaps. He is 14 years my senior… I try not to, but I seem to be good at making people feel old. Suffice it to say, we clicked… And I was already in high flirtation mode. At some point, he began to rub my shoulders and me, touch slut that I am, responded quite well to the physical attention.
“I can’t really do so good a job in the middle of a bar,” he said “If you came back to my apartment, I could give you a much better one.”
Now this struck me as one of the more painfully lame lines I had heard in a very long time… So I called him on it.
“If I did come back to your apartment, what exactly would I be agreeing to?” I may be a slut, but stupid I most definitely am not.
This took him aback a bit. He assured me that no, he really only meant a massage. If anything happened past that, of course he wouldn’t complain, but no. He had no expectations.
I made it very clear that sex would not be on the table.
He assured me that was fine.
“I would like to know what your lips taste like.” He said.
“This is ok.” I said.
And with that I was curled up on the LIRR with a boy on the way to his house in Long Island. While snuggled into his arm, I let a bit more of my relevant history out… my discovery of kink and polyamory, all of the lessons I had learned in these last three years about my own sexual identity. I mentioned that Adam and I are play partners… still leaving out the fact that we had played that day.
I learned a bit more about him too. Christian is a fairly religious Catholic from the midwest. He, like me, was very much the awkward slow bloomer as a kid who later came into their own, but his path was much different from mine. He had recently ended a fifteen year period of chosen celibacy. Apparently, he had a moment of epiphany with his “last official girlfriend”, that what he was doing was somehow wrong and harmful. So he closed up shop. Completely.
It was only recently that a cute burner type caught his fancy. According to his account. At some point she got sick of the lack of fucking, put a condom in his hand, and so the dam burst.
I asked him if he were sorry that it happened.
Kind of. He said. I don’t know if he was more upset that it happened or how it happened.
I found this absolutely fascinating… Here I am at a point in my life where I am looking to claim and celebrate my sexuality as something joyous, even healing, and here is someone that sees so much dark in the same thing… Maybe it’s the Catholic upbringing.
When we got there, I got my massage, as promised. As I was disrobing for said massage, He noticed my stripy thigh highs… I think I muttered something about laundry day and let the subject drop.
He got his kiss, also as promised… and then some. He was the utmost gentleman in respecting my limits and boundaries, and when I know my limits can be respected, some boundaries become more elastic. I didn’t let him penetrate me, but I did allow him to slip between my thighs.
The next morning, he woke me with a tongue on my clit… He asked, somewhat obliquely, if I wanted to return the favor.
“Is that a question or a request?” I asked.
“However you wish to see it.”
I grabbed him by the balls and repeated the question
“I guess it’s a request.”
“So tell me what you want.”
“I want to feel your lips on my… um.. nether regions.”
I gave them a bit of a squeeze. “What do you want?”
“I can put it more crudely if you like.”
I squeezed again “What do you want?”
“I want you to suck me.”
“That’s a good boy.” I paused for a good 20 seconds before agreeing… (And yet I claim not to be a top. Go firgure)
He took me back on the train the next morning in time for me to meet my student. I left our surreal little interlude a bit groggy, not quite fucked, and fairly happy.
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