Men on the Make: True Gay Sex Confessions (2 page)

I wish someone was here to sit on my dick right now. I bet Jeremy’s got a tight asshole. He would never tell me. I bet it’s so sweaty after work. I would rim him so hard. Damn! Jackin’ this dick! I wanna taste Jeremy’s asshole. I want him to sit on my face. Lick his asshole clean, suck his balls. Ram that twink cock down my faggot-ass throat. Fuck yeah! I’m gonna shoot a huge load. Jeremy’s ass tastes so good. I can smell it on my lips. Suck hard on his asslips. I wish someone was here right now. Anybody. Big dicks, tight assholes. I need a stiff dick in my mouth. Somebody fuck me! Who wants to fuck me? I wish there was someone I could call to have phone sex with. Collin and I use to have phone sex. He was good at getting me off. Collin
can suck a mean dick. I’m close to coming. I’m thinking of Collin sucking me off, riding this dick. He’s got a deep asshole. Shit, this feels good! All that dick in me. Fat, nasty rednecks taking their turns. I’m such a slut. Fuck me, Jeremy! I wonder what Collin is doing? I wish he was here on this dick. Come in my ass, Jeremy! It’s so hard to get laid in Tallahassee. My finger deep in my ass. I’m about to come! Go for it! Go for it! Fuck me, Collin! Somebody fuck me! I’m comin’! Ah fuck! Jeremy, fuck! Feels so good! Black dick. Sweat-oily booty hole. This stuff is good lube. Give me some dick! So fuckin’ horny! Oh fuck, I’m comin’! Oh, Collin ride this dick! Fuck me, Jeremy! Somebody fuck me, pleeasssse!

MOMENTARILY

David Kasper

I
wore my jacket unnecessarily in the warm Texas dusk. It made me feel protected from any eyes prying and judging, whether those of hypothetical strangers in the dark or the boy I was about to meet.

This was a college town through and through. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, I was starting to feel old, as every new person I met was unlikely to be of legal drinking age. Tonight was no exception.

In a college town, beautiful antique homes are often rented out to students: usually five or more individuals with loans and no respect for historical architecture. The house I approached had long grass, worn paint, too many cars in the driveway and a dead flower in a pot full of cigarette butts on the doorstep as a giveaway.

604B
was the address. The front door said
A,
so I walked around the back of the house until I found a door with a tattered bug screen hanging loosely in front of the letter
B.
Too shy to
knock, worried I might wake up a housemate, I sent him a text message,
I’m here, i think.
I thought about lighting up a cigarette, but didn’t want my mouth to taste like ash.

When he opened the door (“Luke,” I think he’d said his name was), there was a halo of light around him. He was tall, with long, wavy dark hair draping over his pale shoulders, bared under a tattered T-shirt that was once black.

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. He led me up a thin staircase to the second story and into a living room area, where two boys lay on beanbags in front of a large TV screen, fixated on a video game, their fingers fluttering about the controllers rapidly as their bodies lay completely still. The air was rank with a stale smell of smoke and man sweat. Behind the beanbags there was a couch and an armchair, torn, dirty and, like the floor, covered in beer bottles, fast-food wrappers and other trash.

As I pulled off my jacket, I wondered if I’d read the Craigslist ad wrong. Was I early? Had I signed up for an orgy? The boy sat down on the couch, shoving aside some papers and dishes. He was a vision of gothic beauty, with porcelain skin, and generic tribal tattoos decorating his arms. His beautiful young face conveyed a nonchalance that made me wonder how high or drunk he must be.

“You want a shot?” he asked me, gesturing toward a plastic vodka bottle on the floor beside him.

“Nah, I’m cool, thanks,” I said.

Immediately he started to unzip his pants and pull out his half-erect cock. Instinctively, I knelt down between his two heavy boots, wanting to blow him, but also wanting to feel his warm breath passing through what looked like such cold lips against mine. His dick hardened; he wasn’t interested in kisses. I pulled at his jeans, revealing more of his trimmed pubes (the
only indication I’d seen of any self grooming). The boys behind me played their video game—a beat-’em-up,
Street Fighter
or something—and seemed to ignore us. I zoned them out, trying to focus on this boy and his cock and me. I started sucking him, feeling his hand gripping the hair at the base of my neck.
I want this inside of me
, I thought.
This beautiful cock.
But more, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel his body on top of mine, his breath on my face and neck. I wanted to feel his hot cum squirt on my chest. I wanted him to moan, and make me feel momentarily in love, momentarily loved.

“Dude, quit,” a voice behind me called out, over the paused music of the game. “That’s nasty, dude.”

Luke gently pushed me aside and put his cock away. He stood up and walked over to the boy who had spoken, who had resumed his game and was no longer paying us any attention. I already felt a wash of guilt and embarrassment, readying myself to leave, when Luke kicked the boy square in the head.

The other boy leapt to his feet, as the wounded one stumbled to his. “What the
fuck
, man? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I found myself already inching toward the staircase, not sure whether to run away, call the cops or join the fight. I’d never been in a fight before, but I could surely take down this skinny goth boy who probably lived off of Ramen noodles and black lipstick.

But when the boys started to tussle, I figured I was out of my depth and ran for it. I felt guilty leaving, and wondered if I should’ve stayed. I had a vision of the hammer scene from
Party Monster
, and on second thought decided my presence wouldn’t be such a good idea. I was halfway down the street before I remembered I’d left my jacket on the armchair.

* * *

Thus I returned to my life, that of a graduate school student and a teacher’s assistant, grading half-assed papers by students who never wanted to go to college, and working on a thesis I might never finish. Mornings came, and I dragged myself out of bed, forced awake with chemically enhanced energy drinks, Adderrall and a fear of student loans never being paid off. I sat through lecture classes focusing heavily on information I already knew about or didn’t care for, often hiding a frustrated erection under my desk. My semester continued as an extended period of introspection and self-doubt, with nothing to shape it but a few dents, though none as large as the night with Luke.

A couple of months later, still not having gotten laid, and after perusing Craigslist for the hundredth time, too shy to put up a post of my own and usually too proud to respond to anyone else’s, I resigned myself to a night of eating nachos, masturbating, and staring at my thesis Word document.

It was midnight when I headed to the grocery store. I grabbed a basket, my footsteps gently echoing through the almost empty building, and headed for the cheese, and who should I see in the snack aisle, but Luke, wearing my own leather jacket. I got hard the moment I saw him, and turned away quickly, nervous, unsure of whether I wanted him to see me or not. There was still an intense attraction, perhaps more so now. He was different from every other person in my life, every professor, every student, every man I’d ever loved, every boy I’d ever fucked.

And here I was standing in front of the cheeses, staring at shredded mozzarella, trying to decide whether to say hello or sneak away. And suddenly he was beside me, also checking out the mozzarella, a bag of potato chips in one hand, and the other on the small of my back.

I felt a tingle rush over me, as if my blood had only now begun to pump through my veins. It was immediately sexual. Again, just like in his living room before, a fear of being watched stopped me from looking around, as if no one could see us as long as I didn’t see them.

He was testing the waters, touching my back, then my arm; satisfied, he switched the chips to his other hand and turned to face me, as I stood motionless, still staring at cheese. Then with his free fingers, he unabashedly reached for my buckle and started to work his way into my pants. I moved to stop him, but he pushed my hand away and I relented. My hard-on was raging, desperate to be released.

And suddenly, it was. I felt the cold air from the cooler on my hot erection, followed by his icy fingers wrapping themselves around it. I wanted to throw myself onto him, to taste the inside of his mouth, to be inside him or have him inside me. He spit on his hand and rubbed it over the head of my cock. I wanted to put my hand down his pants, grab his ass and gently push my fingers into his tight little asshole, as he moaned in my ear.

But no, I stopped him, shoving my cock against my belly as I pulled my zipper up. Reality had hit me, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before an employee walked by and I was banned from my local grocery store, or worse, arrested for fooling around with a drunk or stoned nineteen-year-old in public.

I put the basket down and started to walk away, not even glancing at Luke, rushing toward the exit empty-handed. I stepped out into the parking lot, toward my car, and fumbled through my pockets for my keys. Before I could look up, Luke had caught up with me, just a few feet behind, following me to my car.

“Hey, how’s it goin?” he said, stepping too close to my face,
and kissing me before waiting for a reply. His mouth tasted like ash.

He pushed me up against the car. I resisted. A bit. And then I didn’t. We were both pulling at each other’s pants, opening them in the dark. I felt his cock pressing against my body, and mine against his. Then suddenly I felt in control. Like we were on even ground now, and I could have him however I wanted him, here in the shadows, against my car, beside the grocery store. I pushed him in front of me and pulled his pants down, exposing his bare ass. I wet my fingers in my mouth and gently pushed them between his supple buttocks and just an inch or so into his tight asshole.

He groaned, as if he’d reached the climax of a year’s anticipation. I wanted to make him cry out, make him forget who he was. I wanted to come in him.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered, clinging to the side of the car.

My cock was throbbing, but I didn’t have a condom.

“Let’s get in the car,” I said.

“Fuck me,” he said again, as we climbed in, pulling off his boots and pants.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Here,” he said, pulling one out of his…my…jacket pocket.

I took it and watched him turn around, pantsless, and bend over, expectant, waiting. I grabbed his hips and thrust my face into his ass, hungrily lubricating his hole with my tongue, readying it for my cock. He jacked off his cock aggressively as I loosened his asshole.

“I want you, oh my god, please…fuck…” he muttered.

I waited till I thought he couldn’t take another minute of it, and then, tearing the condom open with my teeth, I slipped it on my cock.

“You ready?” I said, and without waiting for a response,
began to put the head of my cock into his tight asshole.

It was difficult to maneuver in the backseat of the car. His head was pressed against the door opposite me, and I was bent awkwardly over him, trying to shift my body forward gradually as I moved my cock slowly into him. But we didn’t care that it was awkward. I just wanted my cock deep inside of him, and so did he.

He moaned intensely. “Yeah, yeah,” he whimpered loudly, as I started to pick up pace, moving back and forth. The car was getting unbearably warm, and I could feel my sweat starting to drip over my brow. I could taste his sweat on his back.

“I’m coming,” I said eventually, as I quickly pulled out.

As if on cue, he turned himself over, desperate to get his face to my cock as I whipped off the condom. I started jacking off, ready to come, as he demanded, “Come in my mouth.”

I did as I was told. My cum squirted several inches from my cock to his open mouth, a little hitting his lips, before he enthusiastically closed his lips around the head and sucked me dry.

“Oh fuck,” he said, as my cum fell from his mouth, his own precum dripping down his fingers around his cock.

Suddenly he leaned back in a fit of ecstasy, brandishing his cock like a sword, as warm cum squirted into the air, falling back onto his chest. I kissed his cheek and forehead, wanting to hold him, but we were both too warm for that. We sat back on the seat, catching our breath.

After several minutes I asked him, “Do you wanna maybe come back to my place? Clean up?”

“You got food?”

“You’re hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hungry, what do you think I was doin’ at the fuckin’ grocery store?”

* * *

At my computer I enter “the zone.” For a short while my thesis will become my world; the concepts my landscape, the words my motions, the letters my fingertips.

And when I wake up, I’m sitting in a dark room, my eyes adjusted only to the computer screen, and I’m waiting for my day’s payoff. Luke should be home any moment between now and four hours from now. I could usually expect him near 11:00 p.m., but he often stayed out much later with friends, and would come home wearing my jacket, reeking of smoke and sweat, sometimes high, sometimes drunk. Always horny.

There was a rattle of the doorknob, the sound of the door swinging open, then slamming shut. I waited for his silhouette at the study door, but it didn’t come. I found Luke on the couch in the living room, slumped forward, his head in his hands. I sat beside him.