Friday, April 6, 2018

I Spend the Night with Fred's Son

Indianapolis, July 2012 

During my last year in Upstate New York, I got an email from my ex-boyfriend Fred: "Guess what -- I just got a job offer in Indianapolis, near your parents!"

"Indianapolis, great!" I shot back.  "What sort of job is it?  Ministerial?"

"I'm the Sub-Secretary of the Social Action Committee for the Disciples of Christ,"

A pro-gay Protestant denomination.

"Handling LGBT issues?"

"No -- I'm not even out at work.  I handle issues regarding the mentally ill and homeless,  But you should see my office -- it looks right out onto Meridian Street!  Will you be coming out for Christmas?  We can celebrate our 32nd anniversary!"

Fred and I met at Christmastime 1979, when I was a sophomore at Augustana College, and he was a ministerial intern at a Methodist church in Rock Island.  We dated for about six months, and then became friends through years of changing jobs, cities, and relationships.

He was with Matt, a Cute Young Thing with a sarcastic wit and a nice butt, and then Jester, a college student with a buffed physique and a gigantic Kovbasa+++, then a series of Cute Young Things.  He worked as a youth pastor, mental health counselor, and homeless advocate in cities all over the map, from Omaha to San Bernadino to Sandusky.  I never knew where the next postcard or email would be coming from.

Time passes.  We hadn't seen each other for about ten years!

I didn't make it to Indianapolis for Christmas, but I did that summer.


Fred was 60 years old, bald, with a white beard and wrinkles around his eyes.  But he still had a winning smile, and was still buffed, his massive pecs obvious even in a business suit.

As he showed me around the Disciples of Christ headquarters in the modern glass and steel Landmark Center, Fred introduced me as his "friend from California," not "ex-boyfriend."

Ok, we dated for only six months, over 30 years ago, but still I felt like he was hiding something, moving us into the closet.

On his desk there was a "family portrait": Fred with his hand on a woman's leg, a hugging heterosexual couple, and two boys in their teens or 20s.

"When did you have time to get married and have three sons?" I asked.  "Or did the picture come with the frame?"

"That's Georgina and her sons.  We live together."

Live together????  "You...have a girlfriend?"

Fred smiled.  "That's Max, the oldest, 32 years old, and his wife June.  They live in Lafayette.  And Tyler -- he's 28.  He teaches culinary arts -- he'll be doing the cooking tonight.  Rusty is the youngest, a junior at Indiana University.  He lives on campus, but he's home for the summer."

"You have a girlfriend?" I repeated, weakly.  I always thought Fred was bisexual.  He just didn't want to admit it.

"No, we're just friends and roommates."

So he was living with Georgina so he could perv on her three hot sons?

Fred left work early, and I followed him up Keystone Avenue to the Broad Ripple neighborhood.  Upscale, conservative, heterosexual.  We parked in the driveway of a very nice Georgian-style house.

Two teenagers were playing basketball in the front yard.  Rusty, a cute blond with a respectable physique for a 20-year old, and his friend, Hispanic, a year or two older.

Fred introduced me as "Boomer from California."

In the kitchen, Tyler the chef was busy stuffing Cornish game hens.  He was very tall, with a tight physique, curly black hair, a hairy chest visible through his white t-shirt.

This time Fred introduced me as "Boomer the Ex-Boyfriend."

Tyler's hands were messy, so he hugged me instead of shaking hands.  His body was warm against mine.  I started to get aroused, and quickly backed away.

"Hey, I've heard tons of stories about you!," he said, returning to the game hens.  "Is it true that when you were living in Omaha, you went down on the teenager downstairs while Fred was in the apartment watching tv?"

"What?  No!" I exclaimed.  "Fred brought the kid from his youth group home, and..."

Before I had a chance to say anything else, Max and his wife June came in with a bottle of wine and a six-pack of Diet Coke.  Max was also cute, with the same black curly hair as his brother, a little shorter and more stocky.

"Fred told us that you were a teetotler," June said, "So we came prepared.  I hope six cans is enough."


Then Georgina the Roommate arrived.  In her fifties, plump, walking with a cane. "Fred has told us so much about you," she said, "It's like you're already part of the family."

Dinner was served on a picnic table in the back yard.  Fred and Georgina sat together. Rusty sat at the head, and I had Tyler and Max on either side.  I felt a little vibe from Tyler, and sitting so close to him was nice, but I had no intention of cruising him in front of his brothers, mother, and...um... stepfather?

"Fred's other ex-boyfriend, Matt, flew out for a visit at Christmas," Max said.  "He and June hit it off, and went to all the gay bars.

"He brought back a Cute Young Thing," Fred added.

"He brought a hookup back here to your house?" I asked, shocked.

"Sure.  Where else?  Matt is turning into quite a bear -- and a twink magnet.  I'm surprised Rusty didn't ask him out."

Rusty laughed.  "Come on, Fred, you know I'm not gay."

"Everybody's a little gay," Max said.  "So, Boomer, I hear you had a date with Brad Pitt."

This was almost like a West Hollywood party.  We just needed to play party games involving nudity, and split up to "share."

Gulp.  Would Fred be sharing Georgina's bed tonight?

After dinner, we sat in the living room, Fred and Georgina on easy chairs, Tyler and me on the couch, close but not touching.  Rusty left to visit a friend, and Max and June loaded the dishwasher and then headed back to Lafayette.

"Would you like to watch something on Netflix?" Georgina asked.  "Or maybe some porn?"

What kind of porn?  "Netflix will be fine!"

We sat watching Breaking Bad, Tyler sitting very close to me and occasionally brushing my thigh.  It was hot, but with his mother and step-father grinning at us, I felt very uncomfortable.

After one episode, he shifted position and put his arm around me.

WTF?

Fred laughed.  "The look on your face is priceless!  Let me get you up to speed.  Rusty is straight, but completely pro-gay. and Max is bisexual. He and June have an open relationship.  And Tyler, of course, is gay."

"And my late husband and I had the honor of raising three wonderful sons," Georgina added, "Who are not afraid to be who they are."

 I let Tyler hold my hand, while Fred and Georgina watched.  After a second episode, Fred said "I guess it's time for us old folks to go to bed."

"You're only 8 years older than me!"

He grinned.  "You'll understand when you hit 60.  Old bones get tired."

Tyler turned to me.  "Would you like to go check out the bars?  Or would you rather go to bed, too?"

 "Bed, please," I said weakly.



Tyler took me by the hand and led me, not to my bedroom, but to his.  He shut the door and kissed me.

A nice kiss, warm, passionate, not demanding.

"It doesn't bother you to do this with your Mom and Fred downstairs?" I asked.

He pushed me to my knees.  I unzipped him and went down on his very stiff  Bratwurst+.

"Why should it?" he continued.  "I've had guys over before.  Yeah...  Like Fred...yeah...how do you think...wow, do that...how do you think he and Mom met?"

See also: Jester, the Blind Boy with the 12 Inch Penis; Alan Picks Up a Father and Son; and Cruised by the Waiter at a Crazy Retro Restaurant.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

The Ins and Outs of Oral Sex

I've never met a guy who didn't like giving or receiving oral sex, and for many guys it is the most erotic of sexual acts, more intimate than anal, more satisfying than interfemeral.

It seems simple: you put your mouth over your partner's Bratwurst, take it past your uvula, and through a combination of tongue and lip action, suction, and sometimes hand action, bring him to orgasm.

But it's not just a matter of going down.  You have to intermingle hard and soft, light and heavy, head and shaft.  You have to modify your technique based on a thousand unspoken signals  You have to be aware of his entire body, his muscles contracting, his heart beat, his intakes of breath.

You have to make sure that he doesn't progress too quickly, or too slowly.  He should finish in five to ten minutes, depending on his age and the amount of time since his last orgasm.





Swallowing is essential: the orgasm is diminished if you don't follow through, and HIV is not transmitted that way.  However, if you have a mouth sore or abrasion,  you should avoid giving oral sex.

Or, for that matter, if you have a cold.  You need to breathe through your nose.

Very important: he's not finished until three or four thusts after he ejaculates.

Afterwards, etiquette demands that he go down on you, or open himself up to some other sexual act.  And kissing and cuddling are mandatory.

The basic position is on your knees while he is lying prostrate or sitting, so it goes in vertically.

If he's very big, he should stand, so it goes in horizontally.  That makes it easier for you to take him past your uvula without gagging.







If he's very small or not fully aroused,  you can involve his balls without switching to hand action













Two guys at once works best when they are of approximately the same height and size.  They can be standing or lying down.

But I always feel left out when two guys are kissing, and I'm stuck beneath the belt.

Three guys at once is impossible.  At most you'll get the heads.





If he prefers to thrust, you can lie prostrate or sit, and ask him to kneel over you.  Your neck doesn't get tired, and a third guy can work on you at the same time.  However, this position does not allow for variations in technique, and it's easy to gag.

Many people swear by 69, when one partner lies atop the other, or side by side,in head-toe position.  They can work on each other simultaneously.  But I find it difficult to concentrate on technique when someone is working on me, and if the guy is husky or muscular, the weight of his body can make it hard to breathe.

Glory holes and dark rooms provide the most basic experience -- a disembodied penis or mouth belonging to no one or anyone, your fantasy guy.





But when receiving, and especially when giving, I want to know who I'm with.  His biography, his personality, his tastes, his interests, the way he talks, the way he eats.  Or, at a bare minimum, his face and physique.

After all, you're not going down on a disembodied penis.  His whole body is involved, the muscles of his legs and stomach, his heart, his lungs.  His blood. His hormones.  His brain.

His thoughts, his conscious and unconscious desires, his fantasies.  His image of himself as a man.  As a gay man.

His past.  His future.

If you do it right, you can reach out and touch his soul.

See also: Learning about Oral Sex in the Church Parking Lot; the "Late for Class Dream" and Oral Sex 101; and My Favorite Sexual Act
.

 

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

What's Wrong with Enjoying Things?

I hate the word "enjoy."

Did you enjoy the movie?  Did you enjoy dinner?  Did you enjoy your sexual encounter?

It comes from my Nazarene childhood, where we were expected to shun "the world."

We had three goals in life.  In order of importance, they were: 1. To be holy, so we could avoid an eternity of hellfire; 2. To win souls (convert other people); 3. To marry and reproduce, so we could raise a lot of children to win souls.  Anything that contributed to these goals was a solemn duty, not to be "enjoyed."  Anything that did not was a distraction, and should be shunned.


The goals required us to stay alive until "God called us home," so we had to eat.  You weren't supposed to enjoy it.  The proper response to a meal was not "It tasted good," but "Thank the Lord for providing it."














Recreation was frowned upon.  You could listen to Christian music or play Bible games (Goal #1), or you could engage in sports or musical activities, play games at recess, or watch tv as a means of getting close to "the lost souls" you intended to win (Goal #2).  But you weren't supposed to enjoy it.  The proper question to ask parents was not "Can I go play baseball?  I really enjoy it," but "Can I go play baseball?  I could witness to my teammates."





Sex was necessary for Goal #3, and only for that.  You shouldn't engage in any sexual act, or even a preliminary such as kissing, unless you were trying to serve God by making a baby.  And you weren't supposed to enjoy it.  The proper question to ask yourself was not "Do I find this person attractive?" but "Do I want to make a baby with this person?"














Oddly enough, I hear similar sentiments today, from people who were
never Nazarenes.

 Food is "fuel," necessary to keep your body running; taste is irrelevant (why else would people willingly eat kale?).

Recreation should build up your body or mind.  No TV -- too mindless.  Engaging in an act simply because you enjoy it is a waste of time.

Sex should always "mean something."  It should enhance the emotional intimacy of a committed relationship.  "No strings" sex, hookups, and masturbation are destructive and deviant, evidence of weakness of character.





Why do we have to be working toward some goal every moment of every day?   In a thousand years, who's going to know the difference?  Take a hour or two off and do something just because you find it enjoyable.



L

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