The dynamic duo
Two days after the breakup and I'm off to a circuit-type event with my two best buds. Drugs may not be the answer, but happy drugs and the company of hunky, friendly shirtless men can at least dull the pain for one night. This is the occasion for me to break the news, that I'm single again now, to several of the fine folks you see listed to the right. You know what? It feel great to unload. Even though I'm surely the world's biggest buzzkill with my unlucky trio of events (breakup, mother with cancer, all my money stolen), everyone is uncommonly sympathetic. Still, it's a relatively early night for me. When my buddies, who don't go to these things all that often, are ready to go, I'm not about to desert them after everything they've done for me. Number of boys kissed: zero. Number of boys I show my dick to: one. My dreamy, beefy, hairy-chested blond buddy who, damn it, has a boyfriend wanted to see it, so who am I to say no? Getting hard or even semi-hard when I'm under the influence is such a rare feat of physical mechanics that I feel obligated to show off my towering achievement whenever it actually does occur. But that's not really what I'm there for. I'm just there to be comforted, to immerse myself in a sea of sweaty, shirtless humanity and lose myself in the pounding music.
Two weeks to the day after the breakup, I'm ready for some more stress relief, another party. It's not ideal timing....I like to space these things out by way more than just two weeks, but if anybody needs it, it's me. It's at the same place, but it's a slightly different kind of crowd. Still, it's an interesting and cool vibe. I'm there with one of the guys listed on the right and his partner, and they're really fun, so we're having a terrific time together. Once again, the drugs (once they finally kick in) are making me happy, not quite in love with the universe, but I'm getting there. It's not a sexual kind of vibe. Just happy, excited to be there. Eventually, the ecstasy peaks and starts to fade, so I knock back a hit of G. Another hour of dancing and it's time for another hit of G. (A total of two only. A strict limit. I have no intention of dying, and I do have to be able to drive home at the end of the night.) This time, however, when my friends are ready to go, I decide to stay.
I walk them out to the lobby to say goodbye. Hugs, kisses...I'm feeling completely great for the second time in two weeks. It's now also my first time "by myself" at a circuit party, even though I know several people there, of course. I head back to the dance floor and dance with a friend I find in the thick of things. After a while, I decide to check up on some other friends I had run into earlier. Naturally, I take the scenic route, the one that takes me past the most guys, so I take off in the opposite direction from where I last saw them, and pause just a few steps off the dance floor.
At this point in the night, the drugs can only do so much for me, at least not the happy drugs that I'm on. I feel great, but I'm beginning to fade a bit, so I'm content to stand there for a moment and watch the crowd. There's a guy standing near me, doing exactly what I'm doing; it's that point in the party, and within a few seconds we've caught each other's eyes. I'm high, of course, and the lights are constantly changing, but he looks handsome to me. He's tall, maybe an inch or two taller than I am. Nice body, not outrageous enough to make me fall into the well of low self-esteem; I think we're pretty evenly matched, actually. And he has a great smile. I can definitely see that. When he smiles, his eyes get all crinkly. I fucking love that. That's a real smile. We shake hands.
First words out of my mouth? "You're blond, aren't you?" Probably the first time he'd heard that as a pickup line. I never claimed to be the smoothest guy, especially when I'm on drugs. And, well, it's hard to tell for sure in this light. It's not even really a pickup line, really; I'm just starting a conversation with a cute, friendly-looking guy. I have no specific plans, no specific expectations for him.
"Yes, I am," he replies. Bingo. We're chatting, we discover that he went to law school where I went to college, and he's quite likeable. We're both shirtless, of course, and he puts his hand on my lower back. "That's okay, you're allowed to do that," I reassure him, as his hand slides down the back of my jeans, beneath my underwear. The G has made me touchy-feely so I'm loving the attention. "You know," I lean in, "I just really like tall blond men." "You would really like my partner then. He's blonder and more built than I am." I don't mind that he has a partner. Why should I? And then he said the magic words: "He just left, but he said that if I met somebody nice, I should bring him home."
I'm at that in-between stage, just a bit too high to drive home, but not high enough to be out on the dance floor any more. Part of me wants to stay and enjoy the party, but a big part of me loves the idea of making it with two hot blond men. Tall guy is definitely done with the dancing, though, so we meander out to the lobby to chat, where we run into some more friends of mine. My tall blond guy knows one of them, it turns out. This is good news. He borrows my cell phone and walks off to the side of the lobby to call the partner and let him know that company's coming. I take this opportunity to ask my friend if this guy's an ax murderer. The answer is a welcome "No, no, he's a great guy." Relief. Meanwhile, my guy is deep in discussion, looking at me from the sidelines, and apparently describing me to the partner. I'm definitely going home with him now, even without having seen the other player in this game. The uncertainty provides its own thrill.
We walk around and talk a bit more until I'm ready to drive home. His partner had taken their car home, so he walks with me to the parking lot and we head toward his place in my car.
Nice house. Very nice, actually. We walk back along the side of the house to come in through the back door...into the bedroom. I'm wondering what on earth I'm going to say if I don't like the partner. The partner comes in, wearing only sweatpants. Oh hell yes. The abs are astoundingly ripped, everything else is in its proper place, and he's a quirkily attractive guy. Score.
This is the awkward part. We're all there for one thing, and it's late enough that it's time to get down to it without delay, but how to start? In the kitchen, the partner has put out three glasses of orange juice and G. I drink my third dose of G for the night (Limits? What limits?), and they assure me that if I need anything else, they've got it. They split a tablet of ecstasy. I'm fine, though. At this point, it's not going to do me any good anyway.
Back in the bedroom, I put my hands on the partner's rockin' abs. "I told you that you'd like him." I'm not sure who my guy is directing this to, but it doesn't make a difference, really. We're kissing, the three of us, and the clothes are coming off. They are both hard as a rock, and I am too, at least for a while. I think that one of them mentioned taking Levitra or Cialis or something. Whatever, it's working for them. We're pretty evenly matched there too, the three of us. Nice.
Onto the bed. It's all going quite nicely. We're laughing and having a ball. I love it when you can laugh in the middle of sex. It's supposed to be fun, right? I'm straddling one of them, on his back, and the other is behind me. Lube comes out and someone's cock starts sliding up my ass. I reach back to check. "Uh, do you have any condoms?" Sure. Somebody grabs one and readjusts. "Just so you know, I tested negative in July, and he tested negative a few weeks ago," he explains. "Great," I answer, "and I tested negative in June." But I'm happier now that the condom in place.
This continues for a while. They're tag-teaming me... With everything I've put into my system, I'm not getting hard any more, but I'm in heaven, taking it from the two of them. I keep reaching back to check, and once or twice I have to pull off somebody's cock and find another condom. They're barebacking with each other, though... The action moves to the hot tub in the back yard as the sun starts to come up. As much fun as I'm having, I'm pretty much done now, even without shooting my load. But I'm happy to be there sharing the moment with these two, and watching them go at it. Back in the bedroom, I help them get off. It's around 7am on Saturday morning now, the sun is coming up, they both have work to do, and even though they seem to be happy for me to stay and chat and keep them up, I'm definitely ready to head home and sleep. But there is a contentment now, that comes with sharing something so elemental with these guys. And I actually like these guys, I realize. We seem to have a fair amount in common. They're fun. They seem to like me.
Still:
I'm coated in sweat and semen and lube, and both shins are bruised from slamming into the side of their bed. I find my clothes on the floor and pull them on. In the dim morning light, I head out to my car, passing a man walking his dog on the street, and I drive home and crawl under the covers, alone.
The aftermath of a circuit-type event is never pretty.
Weight: 170.5
Two weeks to the day after the breakup, I'm ready for some more stress relief, another party. It's not ideal timing....I like to space these things out by way more than just two weeks, but if anybody needs it, it's me. It's at the same place, but it's a slightly different kind of crowd. Still, it's an interesting and cool vibe. I'm there with one of the guys listed on the right and his partner, and they're really fun, so we're having a terrific time together. Once again, the drugs (once they finally kick in) are making me happy, not quite in love with the universe, but I'm getting there. It's not a sexual kind of vibe. Just happy, excited to be there. Eventually, the ecstasy peaks and starts to fade, so I knock back a hit of G. Another hour of dancing and it's time for another hit of G. (A total of two only. A strict limit. I have no intention of dying, and I do have to be able to drive home at the end of the night.) This time, however, when my friends are ready to go, I decide to stay.
I walk them out to the lobby to say goodbye. Hugs, kisses...I'm feeling completely great for the second time in two weeks. It's now also my first time "by myself" at a circuit party, even though I know several people there, of course. I head back to the dance floor and dance with a friend I find in the thick of things. After a while, I decide to check up on some other friends I had run into earlier. Naturally, I take the scenic route, the one that takes me past the most guys, so I take off in the opposite direction from where I last saw them, and pause just a few steps off the dance floor.
At this point in the night, the drugs can only do so much for me, at least not the happy drugs that I'm on. I feel great, but I'm beginning to fade a bit, so I'm content to stand there for a moment and watch the crowd. There's a guy standing near me, doing exactly what I'm doing; it's that point in the party, and within a few seconds we've caught each other's eyes. I'm high, of course, and the lights are constantly changing, but he looks handsome to me. He's tall, maybe an inch or two taller than I am. Nice body, not outrageous enough to make me fall into the well of low self-esteem; I think we're pretty evenly matched, actually. And he has a great smile. I can definitely see that. When he smiles, his eyes get all crinkly. I fucking love that. That's a real smile. We shake hands.
First words out of my mouth? "You're blond, aren't you?" Probably the first time he'd heard that as a pickup line. I never claimed to be the smoothest guy, especially when I'm on drugs. And, well, it's hard to tell for sure in this light. It's not even really a pickup line, really; I'm just starting a conversation with a cute, friendly-looking guy. I have no specific plans, no specific expectations for him.
"Yes, I am," he replies. Bingo. We're chatting, we discover that he went to law school where I went to college, and he's quite likeable. We're both shirtless, of course, and he puts his hand on my lower back. "That's okay, you're allowed to do that," I reassure him, as his hand slides down the back of my jeans, beneath my underwear. The G has made me touchy-feely so I'm loving the attention. "You know," I lean in, "I just really like tall blond men." "You would really like my partner then. He's blonder and more built than I am." I don't mind that he has a partner. Why should I? And then he said the magic words: "He just left, but he said that if I met somebody nice, I should bring him home."
I'm at that in-between stage, just a bit too high to drive home, but not high enough to be out on the dance floor any more. Part of me wants to stay and enjoy the party, but a big part of me loves the idea of making it with two hot blond men. Tall guy is definitely done with the dancing, though, so we meander out to the lobby to chat, where we run into some more friends of mine. My tall blond guy knows one of them, it turns out. This is good news. He borrows my cell phone and walks off to the side of the lobby to call the partner and let him know that company's coming. I take this opportunity to ask my friend if this guy's an ax murderer. The answer is a welcome "No, no, he's a great guy." Relief. Meanwhile, my guy is deep in discussion, looking at me from the sidelines, and apparently describing me to the partner. I'm definitely going home with him now, even without having seen the other player in this game. The uncertainty provides its own thrill.
We walk around and talk a bit more until I'm ready to drive home. His partner had taken their car home, so he walks with me to the parking lot and we head toward his place in my car.
Nice house. Very nice, actually. We walk back along the side of the house to come in through the back door...into the bedroom. I'm wondering what on earth I'm going to say if I don't like the partner. The partner comes in, wearing only sweatpants. Oh hell yes. The abs are astoundingly ripped, everything else is in its proper place, and he's a quirkily attractive guy. Score.
This is the awkward part. We're all there for one thing, and it's late enough that it's time to get down to it without delay, but how to start? In the kitchen, the partner has put out three glasses of orange juice and G. I drink my third dose of G for the night (Limits? What limits?), and they assure me that if I need anything else, they've got it. They split a tablet of ecstasy. I'm fine, though. At this point, it's not going to do me any good anyway.
Back in the bedroom, I put my hands on the partner's rockin' abs. "I told you that you'd like him." I'm not sure who my guy is directing this to, but it doesn't make a difference, really. We're kissing, the three of us, and the clothes are coming off. They are both hard as a rock, and I am too, at least for a while. I think that one of them mentioned taking Levitra or Cialis or something. Whatever, it's working for them. We're pretty evenly matched there too, the three of us. Nice.
Onto the bed. It's all going quite nicely. We're laughing and having a ball. I love it when you can laugh in the middle of sex. It's supposed to be fun, right? I'm straddling one of them, on his back, and the other is behind me. Lube comes out and someone's cock starts sliding up my ass. I reach back to check. "Uh, do you have any condoms?" Sure. Somebody grabs one and readjusts. "Just so you know, I tested negative in July, and he tested negative a few weeks ago," he explains. "Great," I answer, "and I tested negative in June." But I'm happier now that the condom in place.
This continues for a while. They're tag-teaming me... With everything I've put into my system, I'm not getting hard any more, but I'm in heaven, taking it from the two of them. I keep reaching back to check, and once or twice I have to pull off somebody's cock and find another condom. They're barebacking with each other, though... The action moves to the hot tub in the back yard as the sun starts to come up. As much fun as I'm having, I'm pretty much done now, even without shooting my load. But I'm happy to be there sharing the moment with these two, and watching them go at it. Back in the bedroom, I help them get off. It's around 7am on Saturday morning now, the sun is coming up, they both have work to do, and even though they seem to be happy for me to stay and chat and keep them up, I'm definitely ready to head home and sleep. But there is a contentment now, that comes with sharing something so elemental with these guys. And I actually like these guys, I realize. We seem to have a fair amount in common. They're fun. They seem to like me.
Still:
I'm coated in sweat and semen and lube, and both shins are bruised from slamming into the side of their bed. I find my clothes on the floor and pull them on. In the dim morning light, I head out to my car, passing a man walking his dog on the street, and I drive home and crawl under the covers, alone.
The aftermath of a circuit-type event is never pretty.
Weight: 170.5
posted by M. at 3:20 PM
3 Comments:
You so perfectly captured the "whirling dervish" of finding oneself newly single. "I'm definitely not going to do that!" Then I do it.
Why do we always want to put rules on how our own personal journey should go? Half the fun is hanging on to see where we go. Besides, we might learn something on the way, too.
Oh my God.
I need a cigarette now.
Phew! I need a cigarette, some lube and some alone time now. Way to sow some oats!
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