I f*ing hope this is as cathartic as I think it will be. (I may go into a stream of consciousness type writing style as I get all of this out. Bear with me).
Where to begin?
Well I can stop bitching about not getting hit on for starters. I know I sound like a whiny bitch, but until very recently (just before the new year) I never got hit on, ever. I’m not sure if I am just more receptive now, or what, but I have been getting more attention from the boys. This obviously has a positive effect on my self-esteem. I’ve had drinks purchased for me and been chatted up a handful of times over the last couple months. It’s definitely a start.
Now, before I go into some details about a recent “encounter” I want to take a minute to outline my sexual history. I see it as a way to frame the most recent interaction and my overall state of mind when it comes to sex.
Age 4(ish) thru 7/8(ish): I know a lot of kids experiment and I guess that’s what was going on here. I grew up with a group of cousins and friends that were all around the same age as me and somehow we started experimenting. Most of it was with one cousin in particular, but there were times with other boys. We would find a private place (under a bed, in the closet, in a tent in the back yard, etc.) and give each other blowjobs. It never went further than that, and I don’t really remember how it all started either. We got caught a couple time; that wasn’t too fun.
Around the same time (closer to 4 y.o.) I remember having dreams of being with older men. I don’t think I was ever “with” them in the biblical sense in a dream, but there was clearly the desire to be. This of course raised a lot of questions for me when I was in my teens and early twenties and started to remember these dreams. On one hand I thought it might be a sign of abuse, as I couldn’t see why a little kid would have any reason to have ideas like that on his own, and on the other I chalked it up to being a kid and having crazy dreams. I have no memory of abuse, but clear memories of all the other crazy shit that was going on at that time in my life, so I am not sure either way, and I feel like I am moving on just fine, and pretty well adjusted; so whatever.
Age 9: While staying over at a friend’s for the night his mother suggested we shower together (to save water, that’s what they did at their house). At first I thought it was weird, but then being a curious kid, I said yes. Nothing really happened.
Age 8-12: My best friend and I spent a lot of time together, but nothing sexual ever happened. Both of us turned out to be gay. I find that amusing.
Age 15-19: A close friend and I began experimenting. He was slightly younger, but aggressive, and we started with touching, jerking each other off, and eventually progressed to oral. At one point we added making out. Over the course of a few years we would occasionally hook-up until I finally distanced myself from him and put an end to things.
Age 19-very recent: I was celibate all through college and much of my early twenties. The thought of being with someone sexually was too much to bear. I was so insecure that I wouldn’t even allow the possibility. There were a couple random make-outs (some with women) and one boy that pursued me but I kept him at a distance because I wasn’t ready. We held hands and kissed once.
And there it is.
So finally, with all of my hard work and progress (mentally AND physically) over the last year I am able to wrap my head around being able to expose myself to someone and be intimate with them. It took me forever. I was held back by my body, my insecurity due to how I looked, my fear of rejection, and my worry that my inexperience was going to be a problem. (check out my BODY IS A CAGE post). The fact that I still have breasts (they are smaller now) bothers me. It is so emasculating. And there are the remnants of love handles, and a little extra skin under my arms, and my butt is just a bit flabbier than I would like, and so on, and so on. And I let this all swirl around and cloud my mind, taking over like a thunderstorm sweeping in and ruining a wedding, and before I know it, the idea of anyone beside myself seeing me naked is a ridiculous thought.
This brings us to the very recent past:
I was out on the town with some friends and I was on a mission. I had been out a couple weekends before and totally passed up the chance to talk with this guy who was trying to get my attention. Of course, after the fact I felt like a total dumb ass. So, when one of my friends suggested the goal for the night was to get a phone number I gave him a look that said, “Too easy, let’s aim higher.” I later texted another friend to inform him that my goal for the night was to make out with a boy, just so he knew and would maybe hold me accountable.
We went to all the usual places; The Abbey, Here Lounge, Popstarz. We had our share of luck with various men throughout the night but nothing close to what I was aiming for. There was one guy at Popstarz that kept glancing my way as we were on the dance floor but he never did anything more than smile, same with me, and that was that. WTF?
I guess I should take a second to point out that I still suffer from a slight lack of confidence, and it is a lot easier for me to be pursued that it is for me to be the “hunter.”
And we’re back:
My friends were getting progressively more drunk, and I was having an increasingly more difficult time keeping track of them; I am always the “big brother” or “babysitter,” I can’t help it. One was off flirting with two boys that were friends with each other, another had completely disappeared on the dance floor. So I went over to the bar to grab some water. I was standing there taking a break and looking around the place when I notice a guy walk by more than once and then seconds later he is standing right next to me. He introduces himself. I do the same. He asks if I want to dance. I indulge him. We make our way onto the floor and dance for a minute or two before we start making out (mission accomplished!). We continue to dance/kiss on the floor before moving over to the side where we stop dancing and focus all our energy on making out. In between, when we need a break we chat about random stuff. Of course as soon as I am THAT GUY making out on the dance floor my friends all magically appear again. He whispers compliments and sweet nothings in my ear, as well as things that make me smile. We sorta dance. We make-out. This continues until the lights come up as the place is closing.
Now he wants to come home with me. I am nervous as hell. The last time someone saw me naked was years ago (granted I was a lot larger then), and I don’t know how I feel about this. We continue to kiss and he continues to press the issue. He compliments me, and he says he only wants to cuddle. I finally let in. I figure, “Why not?” I felt like I needed to get it over with and here was a chance to do just that.
We walk back to my place and continue to make out. He gently pushes me onto the bed and climbs over and next to me. After a few minutes he asks if I am planning on sleeping in my shirt and jeans. Before I can mutter a reply he is undressing me. My shirt is off and I don’t know what to think.
Can he see that, while smaller than ever, I have breasts?
Does he care?
Can he see the stretch marks that line my midsection that are a constant reminder of my larger self?
Does he care?
Does he feel the extra padding under his hands as he rubs them up and down my body?
Does he care?
And now his hand is on my belt buckle, trying to release it (I end up having to help) and then on the button and fly of my jeans. He is pulling my pants down while we are still making out. He pulls off his t-shirt, and my hands find their way down to his jeans. I unbutton them and help to pull them off. We are in our underwear. His body is nice. He is fit, not muscled, but toned enough, and trim. He moves down to my crotch and begins to remove my underwear. So many thoughts are running through my head, and my mind is going a million miles per minute.
“Thank god I just did some trimming down there.
What will he think when he sees a small mound of fat around my pubic region?
Could I be any more vulnerable?”
He begins to kiss around my inner thighs and I lose it. Whatever crazy thoughts were running through my mind are now gone. The pleasure has completely taken over me. He places his lips around my penis and goes to town. After a bit he comes up; we make out some more. He is on top of me and I can feel his dick pressed against me. We roll over, swapping places. I kiss him. I kiss his neck and his chest. I am kissing him everywhere. I move down to pull off his underwear. He moans as I slide my mouth over his member. I perform oral for a bit before we make out some more. We lay head-to-toe and blow each other. He finishes himself off; I never get off. I am too nervous and unsure. After we have tired ourselves out, and the sun is starting to rise, we spoon. He drapes an arm over me and pulls me into him. I wonder what he is thinking as he stares at my back (also covered with stretch marks). Does he care that I don’t have a “gym body?” I can’t sleep. I am actually felling a bit of pain from not getting off. Late in the morning he leaves. I walk him out. As we both dress I wonder what he is thinking as he sees me in the daylight. We kiss goodbye. I go back to bed, but not before finally getting off (thanks internet porn!).
All sorts of things go through my head all day. Later that night he texts me to say, “thanks for a good time.” I wait a bit before texting him back. I play it cool. I have been giddy all day. It’s like the scene in UNFAITHFUL where Diane Lane is riding on the subway and replaying her hook-up with the hot dude, Olivier Martinez, in her head. (video below)
Unfaithful - Seduction
He texts back, and I send one more. My friends are crazy and think he is definitely interested. I can’t decide how I feel about it. I feel a little slutty. I am happy. I am exhausted. I wonder if it was just a hook-up. He said all the right things to get into my bed. I let my guard down.
I give him a few days to be the first to make contact. He doesn’t. I am not sure that I even want him to, and yet I am somewhat upset when he doesn’t. I decide to make the first move this time (he approached me at the bar, I can “approach” him via text). I do. I ask if he wants to grab dinner or drinks. He invites me out with him that night. I already have plans but tell him that maybe I can meet up after. It’s after and I text. I don’t hear back for a while and by the time I do I am tired and over it. I go anyway. I want to actually talk to the guy, see if there’s anything there. I meet him at a bar. I am introduced to his friends. He says we should dance. I follow. We dance for a minute. We make out. He compliments me left, right, and center. I can’t help but fall for it. And then history repeats itself. This time I am slightly less nervous, especially since he has already seen me naked. After we are done, he hangs around for a bit but ends up leaving soon enough. I don’t hear anything from him. Days later I send him a text. We text back and forth all night. The texts are definitely flirty. I fall asleep and don’t receive/notice the last one until the morning. And again I hear nothing more. Though after hooking-up for a second time I am not convinced I want to pursue anything more than a friendship.
Looking back on the experience I am still undecided as to how I feel about the whole thing. I WAS on a mission that night, and I got what I wanted (and more). I am glad to have finally been with someone, to let my inhibitions and insecurities go and just get it over with. I definitely feel different. I feel viable. I feel like I have my groove back (not sure I ever really had it, but you know what I mean). I carry myself differently. I notice that the guy two lanes over in the pool at the gym is not merely smiling and kinda staring at me, he is interested. I make the connection. I don’t notice, but am told by my friend, that I get checked out while we are at The Abbey. This time I don’t just laugh it off and ignore it in disbelief, but think “Yeah? . . . Awesome!”
-FQ
P.S. Photos are of Alessandro Calza (Photographer: Nick Malfanti). Calza is a model/actor, and after seeing these photos I really want to see "CIAO," an Italian movie he starred in.
1 comment:
thanks for such a great story and sharing your self. peace from Sydney Australia
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