A Lighter Shade of Dark

I'll give anyone a chance even if I'm not sure if what I'm doing is exactly right.

The folks in church are nice, but they don't know I'm gay, or bisexual or whatever it is I happen to be today. At least one guy suspects, he even unzipped his pants for me--so strong were his suspicions. Now that friendship is crumbling and fading fast. If he wanted me to see it so bad, why is he so uncomfortable every time we shake hands, half-heartedly. Ah, because he knows where my hand has been. But he's a nice guy otherwise, though he's not sure what he's feeling or what he wants. I have to decide that myself.

I didn't plan it this way, but that's how it turned out. I met a charming little vixen online and we struck up a conversation. Just before I drove down to the bottom of the world to see her, I had a last minute date with a slim Latino that answered a half-formed personal ad. It was electrifying to have him sitting so close to me in the restaurant--his slightly sweaty arm nudging mine as we picked up and set our iced tea glasses on the afternoon table.

He invited me to an all gay party for which he cooked all the food. I wanted someone like him in my life so I could eat so well, so often. I liked only some of the ones there. I didn't like the crass language; it rubbed me the wrong way.

At last I had to fly and hit the road. I said thank you to Rodolfo and that I looked forward to seeing him again. But in a way I had seen his coarser side--which was how he was with his somewhat crass friends--and I doubted I'd want to see him again.

I arrived after rain and roads unfamiliar had slipped me into the sinister darkness--well not that sinister--of the South Miami strip. I finally met Jane and was surprised at how slightly mannish she was. I guess if a woman has been in the army, it's bound to rub off a little on her. We had dinner and then sat in my car where she did most of the talking. I felt for her and her troubles, but didn't feel much attraction, just friendship. But how to tell her? Last night was not the time to tell her. Besides, maybe she felt the same way about me, but just didn't show it. How do I get myself into these quandaries?

As I was saying my goodbyes, Rodolfo calls to find out how my "dinner with friends in South Miami" turned out. I said fine, not mentioning it was only one friend, and that I had been getting to know her before I met him. But I hinted at his party that I dated men and women, but not simultaneously. Well that was until today.

This morning they both text messaged me, and I responded to both, to keep both doors open. I don't want to sleep with either one of them though. I just want to be their friend. Or perhaps I'd like to get closer to him, but keep her in my life out of compassion. Of course, she'll soon realize I'm not going to drive so far and spend more money than I normally spend on dining out on a regular basis. But maybe, by sharing what means I have with her or with him, more will come to me. You know, just like in the Law of attraction, and all that positive-thinking stuff.

Dark Revelations of a Boyhood Buddy

Nudity Advisory: If you are uncomfortable with male nudity or gay themes, please exit this blog at once. Thank you.

We watched three films by Pedro Almodovar during the long Memorial Day weekend.

The first, Volver, was too bloody and it turned him off. Besides, the only half-sexy guy was soon in a pool of blood and, for my buddy at least, the movie was all downhill from there. I thought Paco (Antonio de la Torre) had his charms, at least when he was still alive.

The next day we watched Kika and he liked Ramon (Alex Casanovas), but in my opinion, for eerie reasons that I had never thought about when I had enjoyed that movie countless times before. He liked the fact that he was such a sexy corpse. Of course, the guy in question would come out of his Cataleptic fit and live again, until the next near-death fit.

It wasn't so much that he was into dead guys--or at least I hoped--but rather that he liked sexy guys that were asleep so he could play, as he put it, "baby doll games." These games consisted of undressing sleeping men and playing with them as they slept. Perhaps Almodovar had these innuendos, or a subtext, but until this buddy pointed them out, I was clueless. I always thought it odd that the major love interest in the movie was always simulating death whenever he got a cataleptic fit.

The last film, Bad Education, also had a sleeping hunk but this time he was dead drunk, but still very hard. Zahara, the young trannie (Gael Garcia Bernal,) in the film-within-a-film climbed on top of that sleeping drunk's pole and road that stallion for hours. But for my friend, the fantasy of, again, having sex with a man who's deeply asleep, was more than he could wish for.

It sometimes takes a different pair of eyes to see realities in favorite works of art that you were oblivious to on your own.

Sex Lite with a Good Buddy

Nudity Advisory: If you are uncomfortable with male nudity or gay themes, please exit this blog at once. Thank you.

It had been years since we had last seen each other. He wanted to come down for the long weekend. I wanted to spend it alone, but how could I turn him down.

The first evening was fine. We went to dine at a restaurant with lots of men and a piano bar. No, that was the next day. The first night we ate Thai at a gay place with a smooth Thai man who had style and beauty and a style that looks better on women, but on him it was delightful as well.

After the first night in my apartment, we rose and I cooked breakfast for him. We talked and wasted Sunday morning like we hadn't done since we were little boys in the woods back home. I gave him an old high school year book and told him to find out who eventually married whom. I took my shower in the see-through shower curtain with the abstract art designs. He called from the next room and said could he talk to me while I was in the shower. I said, of course. When he heard me turn off the water, he left the bathroom until he heard me part the curtain. He said if it was ok to talk while I towel dried myself.

He was shocked that I had an erection as I stood in the shower. I apologized and said that I always get hard when I dry myself. But if it was ok with him and if he didn't mine he could sit in the large bathroom and wait while I shaved.

I knew he wanted to be in there to keep me and my hard-on company. But it was awkward just how to take this all in. I lathered up and started to shave and he asked me if he could, but the running water made it hard for me to hear him. He tried again to rephrase his question, but the water kept drowning him out. I finally made it easy on both of us and directed his nervous hand around my manroot. He played with it as a dog plays with a bone he just found. But he only played with it with this hand. That made it easier for me to keep on shaving.

We talked as he sat on the bathtub ledge fully clothed as I applied my aftershave and a bit of hair growth foam and gel. I asked again if he felt ok with how this was turning out. He said we were good buddies from years ago and that if I could handle this, so could he.

It was a new experience to stand in front of a buddy who I had no idea liked this kind of thing and made polite, or impolite conversation.

"Look," I said, "I'm gonna lie down and we can see where this leads." He came over and brought the high school year book with him and turned the pages as he turned me on.

He'd stroke my body, my thighs, my chest, my manhood, and my balls as he turned the pages of the yearbook with his other hand. He seemed to have a hang on this ambidextrous activity.

I'd try to jerk off as best as I could as we talked and proceeded catching up on all the missing years in-between. I apologized if this was a little weird, but he said it was probably one of the reasons he drove four hours on the interstate.

He told me about his challenges since being laid off and not being able to find the right kind of job. He said with little money, he couldn't continue meeting people except in churches where they required no cover at the door. But he had no gay friend in church, though the ladies of the church were friendly and some unsuspecting men. Then the real reason why he came down came out of hiding. He was lonelier than he'd ever been and with his youth intact, he had no reason to feel so. Maybe the lack of money didn't help, or the inaccessibility to good, solid friends.

It felt odd to be lying there in the nude with my hand around my shaft as he started to cry and told me that he didn't know what to do about his situation. I stopped what I was doing and tried to give him the best advice I could.

The afternoon continued like this longer than I'd ever thought possible. But when I saw that he wasn't going to see him out of his clothes, I decided that he'd take a shower so we could go out to eat.

We ate and watched Pedro Almodovar's Volver with Penelope Cruz. It unsettled him because there was too much blood and too many straight women talking about dead husbands, dead mothers, and sexually incestuous fathers. We fell asleep before the film faded into Monday morning.

Monday morning after breakfast, to my surprise the whole cycle started up again. This time he waited till I came to to the living room with my towel hanging from my desire and my face already lathered up. I asked him did he want to come to the bathtub and talk as I shaved.

This time we did without the tears and just focused on my nude desire for myself mostly as he still wouldn't take his clothes off. He was just content to talk and plan the afternoon and laugh about the odd weekend we were having after the fact. This slightly frustrated foreplay was not as complex as the one from the day before, but at least, it made for an unusual memorial day weekend.

After we had dined out on the last afternoon, Monday evening, we said our goodbyes. I apologized if somehow I had lead him on by accepting his request to come into the bathroom both days and talk with me as I shaved in the nude. He said, it was probably what he wanted and that we'd have to keep in touch. We gave each other a bear hug until the stray raccoon scared us by getting too close to the parked car.

I guess some friends touch and play around. No orgasm was ever planned or orchestrated. Just the lightest foreplay and long hours of conversation I had ever encountered this side of theory.

Sleeping Friend on the Hard Yellow Sofa

Nudity Advisory: If you are uncomfortable with male nudity or gay themes, please exit this blog at once. Thank you.

He was an illegal alien and he missed his wife and kids. I was a legal alien and had no one to miss. We'd say hello in church week after week and since he had no car I'd give him a ride home.

Last week was different. He asked me if I had plans for lunch after church. Wanting company I said I didn't. We went to Boston Market and had a quiet and pleasant chicken meal. My treat.

His roommates, also illegal aliens--they all did construction work--would be in the one bedroom apartment four of them shared all afternoon. It wouldn't be much of a restful afternoon at home with them. I felt guilty and in need of company so I said he could come and visit me for a while.

Once on the afternoon sofa he felt asleep, or so I thought. What do I know about married men from other countries. In his sleep, or so I thought, he kept on touching himself. What else could I do but look on and wonder. What was I supposed to do?

I got out my bible and read it hoping he'd stop his suggestive touching. He didn't, but I kept on reading.

After enduring this for two hours he apologized, and asked if I could take him home. I said, of course. I told him the afternoon had been a complicated one and that I hope we could still be friends. He said the fault had been all his.

If I see him again, and it is likely that he'll be in church the next time I go, what do we say to each other? Do we pretend nothing happened two weeks ago?

Sex in Tea Rooms

Nudity Advisory: If you are uncomfortable with male nudity or gay themes, please exit this blog at once. Thank you.

For years I had given up tea room sex (sex in public bathrooms.) When I least expected it to return, it did in a way I was not prepared for.

I can't live my live being afraid or unwilling to use public bathrooms because temptation might find me in there. Yesterday in what I thought was a simple visit to the home and garden store to buy pesticide I had an urgent need to pee and so I went into a private booth to not get performance fright if the urinals were too busy.

Within seconds the guy in the next booth was tapping his shoe indicating that he wasn't there to use the john in the conventional way. Before I knew it I was tapping my feet too.

When it was over half an hour later, I told myself that this wasn't the kind of sex I was looking for or the kind I needed. I wanted something more fulfilling & a whole lot safer. What if the store security was montoring the action in the men's room. What then? Trouble with the law again?

The next day day I was shopping for dvds & compact discs in a big book store. I purchased what I wanted, returned to my car to leave my new possessions. I then realized that I had to use the bathroom urgently. I sat down thinking nothing out of the ordinary, when, to my amazement the same guy--I recognized the shoes--was in the next stall tapping his foot again. He dropped his pants and I did the same before I was aware what I was doing. I should have gotten up and left. Again, I don't want to get in trouble with the law again, but I stayed & had the most desperately quick and nervous sex I'd ever want to have. Always watching the door in case anyone came in. Always listening for the opening of the door or the shuffling of feet.

I was stunned 20 minutes later when all this was over. Again, this was not the kind of sex I needed or the kind of life I needed. I guess I asked for it for looking at the nude art photo essay books in the Gender section. This guy, unknown to me, was cruising me---more like stalking as I had no idea anyone one else was even in that area. He must have seen me leave the store and come back and head for what I thought was an innocent men's room.

There are no innocent men's room anymore. At least not for me.

I should be grateful someone took an interest in me enough to follow me around a big book store & finally corner me in the friendly bathroom stall next to his. Attention is always a good thing. But this wasn't the kind of attention I needed. I guess I was asking for it by casually putting Brokeback Mountain on last night before I went to bed. It was as rough and passionless sex as those two guys got during their first feverish encounter in the pup tent.