2006-02-24 - 6:53 p.m.
With one thing and another, it has been a month of fairly mediocre sex. If you had to ask me why, I am sure that I don’t actually have an idea. Have I gained too much weight? Is my sexual stamina gone now that I am an alter kocher of 41? Am I just so full of hope-devouring ennui that my boredom has seeped, Hedda Gabler-like, into my lovemaking?
I really can’t tell. And it’s one of those things about which no one you’re having sex with will actually tell you the truth. You must glean the truth from the passion, or lack thereof, while one is romping in the sack. This month, I have noticed a strange lack of that very quality. Yes, gentlemen are still willing to doff their clothes and dance the dance of the midnite nekkid beasts, but midway through we both get bored or tired or we just change our minds and are not into it so much.
I first noticed this happening about two weeks ago when I had this tall, lean Korean boy over. He was an All American Korean guy, about six foot two, whip lean, with a nicely defined, smooth six pack and beautifully pert ass cheeks. Really, he was exquisitely handsome: He looked as though he had just run over from the UCLA track team to have some quick sex. He arrived, shed his blue jeans and T-shirt and we made out, him in his cute, blue American Apparel briefs, which I gradually lowered to reveal a sharp, cut erect cock. We made out and he dropped to his knees and vigorously sucked my cock.
I manipulated him this way and that, gently pushing his head down just this way, and then moving his legs so that I could run my tongue in and out of his ass cheeks, like thus. We did all this for a while, but we started to slow down, and I noticed that my erection was waning at about the same time his was doing the same. We both made the mutual decision to stop – and I suggested that perhaps it was just not working. No big deal, I noted, stuff happens. The Korean boy was fairly silent as he dressed. But then he girded his loins and looked me directly in the eye.
“You know what the problem with you is?” he grumbled, rather peevishly, buckling his jeans and tugging down his T-shirt. “You’re too…dominating. This should be more spontaneous. It’s meant to be fun! I really didn’t appreciate when you pushed my head down on your cock – or when you grabbed my legs like that. It should have been more….” He waved his hands, unable to find the word he wanted.
“Aww,” I replied. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry. I guess sometimes it clicks, some times it doesn’t!”
“Ugh,” the Korean boy sniffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s not what I meant at all. I meant… Oh, whatever.” And he snapped the Velcro on his shoes and was out of there.
A week or so later, a similar thing happened when I agreed to meet this fellow who had been trading IMs with me for about four or five months. He was a very cute, rather shy boy, around 28, with curly black hair and a beaky sharp nose and adorable cleft chin. Late one evening, he told me that he was off work tomorrow – so this was the perfect night to hook up!
He came right over, and we started making out.
“Please, sir,” he trembled. “Will you undress me?”
Recognizing that he had decided to establish a master-submissive aspect to our burgeoning relationship, I agreeably acceded to his request and slid down his tight jeans, revealing a pair of tight-fitting Gap boxer briefs. The bulge of a rock hard erection stuck out from the cotton. He dropped to his knees and started licking and playing with my own cock.
We fooled around for a while, until I was lying on my back, and he was kneeling over me, with my hand slipped underneath the elastic of his briefs, fingering the cleft of his butt. He moaned and gurgled happily, grunting as he sucked and licked my cock and balls. I helpfully ran my finger through his curly hair and pushed his head down – and this time the fellow seemed to like it, for he gagged and smiled most happily, a custom that I myself never quite understand in someone giving fellatio, but then again, it’s not my business.
The troubles started when I wanted to suck his dick, at which point he sighed and said he really “wasn’t into that.” For goodness sakes: Who ever heard of such a thing? Is there anyone who ISN’T into getting sucked off? It didn’t make much sense to me at all. “I just want to watch you stroke that big ole cock,” he murmured. I said if he continued to “disobey” me, he would be in for a spanking. “No spanking! Please, sir! No spanking!” And he was serious about it. What kind of a cockamamie submissive was this?
I began to notice a certain lack of connection between us, and a sense that something was on the fellow’s mind. I asked him if everything was all right – and if he had a long way to drive home.
“Oh it’s OK,” the boy noted, eyes fixed on my erection. “I took a cab!”
“Good grief!” I retorted. “All the way from Studio City? Dude – that’s like… 40 bucks one way! You’re going to be shelling out about 80 bucks for this! You could have hired a real hot boy with that kind of money!”
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he stammered. “I don’t mind. I got the money, why not? And I would never pay for sex.”
“Heh,” I laughed. “You just did pay for sex. It’s just that you paid the cab driver! Funny.”
After this, I am afraid things sort of gradually sputtered out. It seemed very important to him that I cum, and so I did. But he didn’t bother – even though his enormous pink erection never faded for a minute. He merely slapped that erection back inside his briefs, pulled up his jeans, and phoned for a cab. We chatted for a bit while he waited for the cab to arrive. He really was even better looking dressed, and he wore a lovely long black X-files trenchcoat that I just coveted.
As I talked to him, I got the impression of a fellow who was just lonely, plain and simple. “I wish I had a boyfriend!” he sighed. “I had a boyfriend for four years two years ago, and this hooking up thing… It’s just…” he waved his hand in the air. The cab arrived, whisking the boy off home to Studio City, some 50 bucks away. After he returned home, I IMmed him, and he told me how the cab driver refused to take his credit card and forced him to stop off at a Ralph’s ATM, some miles away from his home, for more cash.
And then just the other night, there was this cute 23 year old poppet, about five foot seven, with curly red hair, who wanted to come over at the very last moment possible, at something like 4:30 in the morning on a Thursday.
He was really very sweet – and he threw himself into my arms as soon as he arrived. We made out vigorously, our tongues wiggling against each other. And he moaned and nuzzled my shoulder, feeling up my crotch. I peeled down his khaki slacks, revealing a tight pair of spandex brief-shots, which cupped his bubble butt just perfectly. He sure seemed very horny, and was especially appreciative when I rimmed and slapped his round, perky ass.
But as he wriggled and squirmed, flopping over on his back to jerk off his own penis and to watch my porn, a sort of weariness overcame me. I was just not into it! He kept opening and closing his legs, stroking his cock, playing with his balls, and exhibiting his red-hairy ass crack – and the more he did this, the less I was interested. As I watched him writhe and buck, his pink boyish skin rippling, I found myself irresistibly thinking of one of the Three Little Pigs from the old Fairy Tale. Perhaps it was the fact that I had the room’s heat on and I do not like having sex in the heat. But I just found myself watching the naked boy and thinking, “Gee, how much like a pale, red-haired bug this floppy legged fellow is! Who could be attracted to a fellow like this? Blah!”
And so I genially smiled in his direction, and said, “Ya know, I am feeling awfully tired. I’m going to send you home. Would you mind awfully?”
I was positively appalled by the alacrity with which he squeaked, “OK, that’s cool! See ya!” and raced out the door, his clothes only half on. I am serious: He had his slacks half falling down over his just pulled-up undies. And as the door shut behind him, I heard a distinct sigh. Of relief? Of despair? I don’t know. I was understandably paranoid though.
So my dear Big Blue Blog-a-roo, what am I to make of all this? My last three tricks were, in a word, reprehensible. What do you think is up? Have I morphed into some dire and horrid creature? If that is so, why do the tricks even show up and stick around long enough to get nekkid? Is it all in my head? Or is something very wrong with the current Zeitgeist within tricks? I wish I knew. But believe me, I shall continue to analyze the issue very closely.
Next time, we shall talk about what happens to Old Tricks! Or at least the ones that I hear from afterwards. You shall find it compelling entertainment I promise you.
