Under the weather this week... got a bad cold. I am on the other side of it now, but, boy, Tuesday and Wednesday were not pleasant. I did the right thing. I stayed home, I rested, I pushed fluids, pushed vitamin C, took hot showers, washed my hands, and gargled a lot. I did not exercise, which was hard because it bummed me out to miss Zumba. Having to sing this weekend, I really wanted to give my body a chance to recover as quickly as possible and I must say, I do indeed feel much better.
What I did not feel like doing was writing. Not anything. Even studying my music was a real chore. Mostly I simply wanted to sit on the couch and pet my dogs.
And surf for free porn.
I did manage to stay off of the hook-up sites: A4A, Manhunt, bbrts, and Recon. Phone apps: Scruff, Jack’d, Grindr, and GROWLr also went unexplored. For some reason, the games people play on those sites just are not of interest to me at the moment. I want something more immediate. And, surprisingly, more permanent. I would like a small pool of dudes that I know – and know me – to play with. I’m at a point where I don’t want sex that does not include some passing allusion of intimacy.
What brought me there? Well, my three years of slut-dom, for sure. Age. Experience. I guess this is a spring awakening for me.
Even my outlook for the summer is muted, this year. Oh, I will get out there and get my rays. And if I travel I will certainly try a taste of the local cuisine, but I am not looking to suck a million dicks in the woods, or douche behind a tree so I can take dick, or traipse along behind every Gerry and Joe and shows an interest in me. I think I will probably be spending a lot more time sitting on my blanket this year. And the words ‘no, thank you’ will probably get used much more often than in the past.
Sure, I could say that this has a lot to do with the way Parks and Wrecks are destroying much of the gay’s natural hunting ground, or the hyper-concerned dog walkers who call the police if they see you walking around alone. Not to mention a certain overweight, out-of-shape Fridley police officer who seems to feel that his time and the tax payer’s money is better spent with him huffing and puffing his way through the woods, rather than preventing real crime. (Oh, yes, children… these are not good times to be a little whore on the prairie).
But in reality, this new mindset stems from my recent attempt at giving up sex for Lent. Oh, don’t get excited – I failed, miserably. But I did try. And when I failed, I just picked up where I left off and gave it another try.
I have come to the conclusion that I cannot go to a bar, alone, for I will soon find myself resorting to old behaviors.
It had been nine days since I made my decision to abstain from sex. Those first eight days slid by with me on my best behavior. My first slip? It started on a Saturday morning at the gym. In the locker room. I’d invited this dude I know to be a guest at my gym. We’d fucked at the prairie once. He’s super tall, older, and hung 8.5 and thick. Tells me he doesn’t like kissing, but that’s how it began. We get each other hard in the locker room, fooling around, sucking on each other. I almost lose my load. But then we decide to work out. He goes off on the treadmill. I’m working the weights. Thirty minutes into my work out, this tall black dude I know arrives and works out a little. I have a crush on him, though I have never seen him naked. He’s pretty shy, but friendly, too. After a mere fifteen minutes he tells me he’s not feeling it and heads for the showers. Soon my friend heads in to the showers as well. I have stuff yet to do, so am not sure what my friend is up to.
When I do finish my last set, I head into the locker room. The black dude is drying himself in front of a mirror. I politely avert my eyes, even though I am very curious. I strip down, making my way to the showers with a bottle of baby oil in tow. I have this thing right now – in preparation for the summer, I am dousing my body with baby oil before I shower. Plus, I figure my friend is still in the showers and maybe we will do a little body rubbing.
Well, my friend has been in the showers all this time and his eyes look like a Tweety Bird who just thought he thaw a puddy tat. He’s half hard and excitedly tells me that the black dude came out of the private shower stall showing a big old hard on and apparently the dude is super hung. I take a shower in a corner where the black dude cannot see me and oil up. My friend sneaks over and kisses me, tells me he wants to fuck me (fucking is not an option) and pushes me down to suck his dick, which I do. It’s a nice dick and we are fairly safe from prying eyes. We mack on each other for a bit longer, before he steps back to his shower in the opposite corner. He keeps stealing looks at the black dude, which I think is not that cool. Then he comes back to me and won’t stop talking about how big the black dude’s dick was and how he’s pretty sure the dude is looking for something. I doubt it. I don’t tell him this, but it does kind of spoil the whole mood for me. We fool around on each other more and the dude keeps wanting to fuck me… but the condoms are in my locker and quite frankly, I don’t want to. Compromise is, and this is after the black dude has left, I shoot my load on his dick. And then, not really surprising me at all, the dude declines to shoot his load. And… the romance is over. While I would be up for repeating this scene, I will not be inviting this guy back to my gym.
Two days pass, and I get an email from another dude I have never met. He’s a cowboy – a real one (rides bulls), living in a cabin on a lake. He wants me to come for a visit. I know this will mean getting fucked and I am game for it. Besides, there’s something romantic about the whole set up. He’s the kind of blue collar dude that I don’t get to play with often enough. He’s shorter than me, and younger - stout and rugged looking. Looks hella good in a trucker cap or in a cowboy hat. With a face full of scruff and a chest full of hair, I decide he’s a man fantasy come to life. I make the trek to his place after work. His cabin reminds me of the ones I used to spend time in on Little Sauk Lake. We settle down on the couch, and once he drinks a few beers (I abstain) and the conversation becomes fluid, I take one of his big old bare feet and start massaging them. He doesn’t resist. I work my way up to his calves – they are hot as hell, big and beefy. After the other foot gets some attention, he leans in for a kiss and we start making out. It’s way fun. The cabin’s rustic qualities are the perfect environment for what I have in mind. The kissing is good, and he smells wonderful (he was just getting out of the shower when I got there). Soon I am undoing his jeans and working my magic with my mouth on his dick. It’s average, but sweet and thick. I also like all the fur that surrounds it.
We move to the bedroom, classic country music playing in the background, and lay with each other as God intended. It is a sweet, intimate fuck and I let him unload in my ass, after he makes me cum. We lay there in each other’s arms. Lingering. In a way, I wish the world would go away and leave this man and me be in this cabin. But the clock is ticking and I have dogs to feed. As we shower he keeps hinting at wanting ‘seconds’, but I tell him it will have to wait until next time, which as of this writing has not come to pass. Maybe he thinks I am the one who has to make the next move, but, since I do not want to appear over eager, I decided it was his call to make – a call I’m still waiting for…
Next day, I stop in at one of my favorite parks and pull up next to a bright blue four door. It’s the only car in the lot. A young, tall, black dude – a rarity at this park, is sitting behind the driver’s seat. We give each other a knowing nod. I swiftly change into my hiking jeans (too cold for shorts) and shoes and keep eyeing my parking lot buddy. See, I have heard about this guy. He usually inhabits a different parking lot in a different park. Seems he likes to stand next to his car jerking off for dudes to watch. There are a lot of dudes who want more than to just watch, but he doesn’t oblige them. He gets out of his car and keeps scoping out the landscape, before heading south on the blacktop trail. I decide, why not, and follow a good distance behind. After ten minutes of not quite understanding what it is he is looking for, I walk into the middle of this wooded area that is surrounded by, on one side, the main road, on another by a giant pavilion next to the parking lot, and on the third side, the black top path that the black dude has been pacing around on. I check out the ground for signs of play; there is an old condom wrapper and a used, bright red condom near my feet. I always take such things as a sign of good luck.
When I look up, seems he has taken a few steps closer to the thicket I am standing in. He keeps inching in, but he remains at least five yards away from me. However, due to the branches and bushes, I can’t quite make out his face or what he is doing with his hands. He’s wearing those big saggy jeans around his hips and a big, sloppy hoodie. Tentatively, I take a few steps toward him, moving real slow, because I am afraid I’ll scare him off. And that’s when I catch site of the big fatty he is waving in my direction. He's dropped his jeans just low enough so that the shaft of his dick and balls are free. I can also see the curve of his ass. Dude is fine.
Well, I don’t play coy. I am over there in a second, and am soon on my knees worshiping his thick monster dick. Dude looks like a total thug and has a voice to match. I tell you, when a black dude tells me to suck their dick, I just melt inside. Then he asks me to show him my ass and this dude’s voice purrs with a menace that has me dropping trou like a total slut. But wait – we are at the edge of the thicket and I realize that any dog walker, jogger, or gay cruiser can see us plain as day. I get up off my knees and ask him if he would like to go down to the river. He says sure. And I lead the way. He comes to the edge of the woods that leads down to the river, but goes no further. Thinking he has a better idea I backtrack and see that he is now walking north along the blacktop path – right past the parking lot, which is now filled with cars, and my heart sinks for I know exactly what is about to happen. And sure enough, all those horny dudes spring forth from their autos and start trying to win the affections of this rather rare delicacy in our midst.
I am about to give up. Watching from afar, I observe two trolls and a rather obese youngster, move in on my man. I head to my car, and just as I am about to get in I think to myself… how often does someone this hot come along? With that, I grab a bottle of water, a condom, and some lube and make my way down the trail, where I now observe two additional motherfuckers moving in my trick. Fuck ‘em. I head down that trail and then veer off onto another trail that leads by the river. But does my intended follow? Nope.
Since I’m down there, and I am pretty sure I know where this is possibly heading, I give my ass a quick rinse. Surprisingly, even though I had not prepped at all, my ass is good to go! I climb back up and see that the zombies have, in one solid mass, descended upon the black dude. Something tells me they are wasting their time, and I start back on the trail, headed south instead. I waste my time wandering in and out of the woods, looking for a better spot to fuck, but it is early in the year and there is no green cover yet, so nothing I see really pans out. At one point I look up and spy the black dude on the trail above me. He has followed me, but he will not come into the woods. Moments later I realize the reason he keeps walking is that there is a zombie on his trail. I look at this zombie. He looks a lot like me… same age, same build. The black dude could just as easily choose him over me. Maybe it’s a first come, first served, deal. So I stand and wait. After a bit the zombie wanders back to his car. And five minutes after that the black dude reappears. See – patience pays off!
He sees me, but will not come into the woods. Instead he makes his way back to the thicket where we first met. My hopes rise as I hit the blacktop trail once more. Sure enough, the black dude moves into the center of the thicket. Now, one can absolutely see everything in this thicket, because there is no green coverage. The branches however, do act as a kind of visual breaker, which is exactly what I think the black dude is counting on. I make my way to his side. His dick is already out. I drop my pants, crouch before him and deep throat him like there’s no tomorrow. As my mouth is doing all the work, one of my hands is smearing lube on my hole. Dude is talking shit in a low guttural tone and I just know he wants to get on up into my business. Finally he says, “show me that ass, bitch.” I get up, turn around and spread my cheeks. He slips a gold Trojan out of his pocket and works it over the head of his dick. Once it’s on, I run a handful of lube over the length of his dick and ask him to please enter slowly.
He does and his huge fuck stick opens me up so much that it feels absolutely liquid. I tell him as much. He’s not wasting time, though. He immediately starts pounding my hole, working it for all it’s worth. I am deliriously happy… that is until I open my eyes and see one of the zombies walking down the trail in our direction. I am sure they can see us, but probably can’t quite see what we’re doing. I rear up to warn the dude fucking me, but before I can get a word out, he pushes down on my upper back and says, “Just get down”. I do as told. Thinking I can help hurry things along I start fucking back on his dick. We generate a really complicated rhythm until the dude on the trail has actually walked past us. I pause and turn around. The black dude has worked up quite a sweat. He smiles, for the first and only time, and says “Fuck, yeah.” I start work back on his dick again, but he pulls out. He already came. I reach around, remove the filled condom, and then ask if I can clean him up with my mouth. He nods affirmatively, and I am all over that dick. As we get ourselves back in order, he tells me that he needed that, that he hadn’t cum in a week, and that he’ll catch me later. Gosh, I hope so.
After he’s gone I hang onto that condom, holding it aloft, marveling at the size of his load. In the end, I toss it into the trash. I like cum – hot, fresh cum, but am not a total cum freak. So the idea of using it for lube on my own dick, eating it, or spreading it all over my body holds no appeal for me.
Two days after that, I find myself at the Eagle in full whore mode. I’m on bbrts. I’m on GROWLr (as are a bunch of the dudes around me). I have an offer to visit a dungeon in St. Paul. I have three dudes at the bar that have been hitting me up on Scruff. I have some tiny sixty-year old dude wanting to fuck me, plus an architect who wants me to fuck him. I’m kissing on dudes, dancing, laughing, and having a good time, knowing exactly how the evening will end… at the warehouse.
And it does.
And all those promises I made myself – you know, about waiting and looking for just one good quality dude, rather than passing my ass around, or sucking on every dick that presents itself… goes right out the basement window. I am a total slut, kneeling on a couch on the main floor with my ass cheeks spread like a drunken cheerleader at a frat beer bust. Details? Too many, too shameful.
Next day, I have a sex hangover to go with my gin and tonic induced one. I sink into a depression. Anxiety regarding potential STDs gnaws away at me. I do not like myself that Saturday morning. Nor do I like myself the next day. It’s been fourteen days since that night. I have not been on any hook up site or any phone app. I have looked at a bunch of porn shorts and jerked off once. But that’s it.
Tonight – I have an actual date. I don’t know how it will go. He’s handsome. Shorter than me. A marathon runner. My age. He says he likes to kiss.
Maybe a kiss on the lips will be enough.
But I doubt I will be visiting the warehouse again, any time soon.
And yes, I failed. Failed miserably. But it was a good run. A good try.
I don’t know what will happen tonight. And I know better than to make any promises - what, with my track record? But I do know that if it doesn’t feel right, that I will say thank you very much for a lovely evening and go home.
Because I don’t need another Saturday hangover – of either varieties.
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