web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Sudden Goodbyes

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Sudden Goodbyes

Last night I shot healthy hot ropes of cum all over Little Beard Big Nose-- that very rare guy who I was willing to fuck over and over. It was altogether a very wistful night: I was in the West Village meeting a very old friend for dinner-- we've known each other since we were 12-- who was leaving NYC for a job in freakin' Texas, of all places (a state very ill-suited to his politics and interests, I think). The dinner itself was very lively and fun as usual, catching up after the holiday, talking about our families, science stuff, art stuff, nerding out completely over Mexican food and drinks. And then it was time to say goodbye to him at the subway; he had an early flight and who knows when I would see him again. It was great being in the same city again for a few years, and he was my best, go-to friend, up for anything, no matter what insane experimental movie, music show, or installation I wanted to drag him to, he'd go. I felt very sad at the subway, and trudged over the filthy piles of snow deeper into the village and found a late night cafe where I could get a cup of coffee and mope. I idly flicked through hookup sites while I drank the coffee but no one was biting; I think it was just so cold everyone was holed up in the warmest corners of their apartments. And then Little Beard Big Nose cruised my profile on Growlr. I remembered him saying he was sort of house sitting for a friend by Union Square. He'd hit me up all last year but timing never worked out and I thought I had moved past him after so many encounters. But it had been a year since I saw him. I thought, what the hell, and sent him a note saying "Oh, still staying in town eh?" And he said "Yes." And I said "Wanna suck my dick?" and he said "Yes." I don't know why telling dudes I want them to suck my dick should be such a simple aphrodisiac, but something about the words SUCK MY DICK just get me going, and instantly make me about three times more attracted to whoever I just said them to. Maybe it was the cocktails, but suddenly this little guy seemed like the best cocksucker in the world, and the instant YES sealed it. I paid for my coffee and trudged over. On the way, I worried about enjoying it much after drinking, and remembered how lightly he sucks dick, and knew I was too full and tired to fuck him; even the idea of eating ass was off-putting on such a full stomach. The streets were deserted, like a neutron bomb had fallen on Washington Square Park; there was not a soul on University. He buzzed me up and made me feel awesome, made me hard, made me horny, made me squirt long thick ropes of cum all over his little body, and then told me that he, too, was leaving New York City.

I knew there was a reason I kept going back to him, but I had honestly forgotten what utter sex-crack he is. I have no idea why. I thought I'd seen him out and about a few months ago, and it looked like he was quickly gaining weight in the shape of a basketball under his shirt. But he met me at the door in a little t-shirt and pajama pants, and he looked the same as ever-- just a sweet little body with a huge dick swinging in the pants, and that beard and those eyebrows and that huge honkin' nose that just makes me wanna fuck the shit out of him. He curled into me and we made out and his lips were instantly familiar to me again, and I just wanted to keep kissing. I had to take an urgent leak, though, and when I was done he was leaning back on his bad against the pillows, his legs twitching and shifting around in his pajamas in anticipation. I leaned over him and kissed him more, holding my body away from him, just focusing on his lips. "Take your clothes off, take your clothes off," he whispered urgently in his Italian accent, but I held my body rock-still and just kept kissing him, sucking his neck, and occasionally passing my hand over his little body, feeling his heat and drinking in his incredible scent. He was wearing a little cologne, just a whiff, but it couldn't hide the intoxicating soup of chemicals his skin wafted into the air into my nostrils. Despite the drinks and my unpleasantly full belly, these chemicals went right to my spine and made my dick harden in my pants.

He clutched up at me, driven crazy by the kissing, and finally began pulling my sweater and t-shirt up over my head even as our lips remained locked. I decided to put him out of his misery and stood up and undressed. He pulled down his pajamas and that monster schlong of his, looking ridiculously huge on his tiny frame, sprung out into the room, painfully hard, angrily red, beautifully curved up so slightly the way only a beautiful dick curves, glistening at the tip. My own dick was not quite as hard but he dived for it and gave me that gentle head he gives. I didn't push it; the kissing had gotten me so excited I didn't really worry about performing, and just let him do what he wanted. The radiator began a long, loud hiss and he feasted hungrily on my dick as I gazed down imperiously at his little body. I pulled my dick out after a while and lay down on my, sliding my slick meat alongside his monster tubesteak, and he wrapped himself around me tightly, and I just stroked my dick up and down beside his. And just this simple motion was fucking heaven. "I missed you so much, man," he whispered urgently in my ear. "God you feel so good, I missed you." I gripped one buttock and pulled him to me, and held the back of his head with the other, and thrust against his body, and we kissed the whole time. I felt like I could cum; I am cumming so fast lately, in a way I like how much I want to cum these days, but it does make it harder to enjoy a long protracted session. I inched my hand deeper and deeper into his crack and slid one finger in his hole and felt his dick instantly harden and lengthen and throb noticeably against me. "Oh God," he said, and pushed his body tighter against mine. We were not fucking, but this was extremely intense. I have never felt so desired.

I still felt unpleasantly full from the big dinner and humping up against him was a little more exertion than I felt capable of so stuffed like this. So I lay back and let him climb up between my legs and suck my dick. Now that I was hard as a rock the small motions of his tongue were just fine; much more and I would be fighting the urge to cum in him nonstop, the pleasure would be painful. This was simple and light and I just admired his tight little back, his sweet rump shining under the lamp light. I was leaning up against the painted brick wall; Grace Jones was growling quietly on the radio beside the bed; the radiator kept hissing. I felt like this was a wonderful New York experience somehow. He was in his own private reality between my thighs with my dick bouncing around his face and in and out of his mouth.

But looking at that ass got to me, so I slid off the bed and ate it out and felt all his muscles between his legs tense and relax at my attentions; I held his dick and it felt like a rocket that would take off any minute, it was straining away from his body with an intense general desire. He had told me he had no lube, and I remembered he was a tough fuck, but at this moment I wanted nothing more than to plow his little body and seed it deep. I put my dick between his cheeks and cooed at how beautiful his ass looked with my dick in it, and he flopped around on the bed, arms stretched out and palms down on the bed above his head, face to the side, screwed up with intense pleasure. "God I missed you," he said for the nth time.

I couldn't get my dick in him, obviously, so I turned him on his back again, and again slid my dick alongside his, and just this contact, just that hard meat touching mine in gay communion, was enough to make my nuts break. I reared up just in time to shoot the first long rope on his beard, and the rest all over his little body. I was still squirting feebly when he said, "Put it in my mouth put it in my mouth," urgently pounding his tool, and I complied, letting the last few pulses leak into his mouth, and he used the acrid taste of my manly pleasure to get himself off, small beads of juice appearing at the end of his hard red dick and dripping into the light hair on his belly as he climaxed.

As usual, the second he was done cumming, he jumped up to clean up and, for whatever reason, get away from me. I lay back on the bed, breathing hard, and said with a plaintiveness that surprised me, "Don't kick me out yet." It was freezing outside and I guess I liked having this little circle of familiar warmth around me having said goodbye to my old friend an hour before. "I'm not going to kick you out!" he said, wiping himself with a towel, "no no! Just cleaning up." But when he got back in bed it seemed a little reluctant and he lay at a strange angle that made it hard for me to do anything but drape an arm over his shoulder.

And this is when he told me he'd quit the apartment in my neighborhood-- he'd lived just down the street, another reason it was easy to constantly put my dick in him-- and moved south of the Park, where he would return after his house-sitting stint. And then he told me he would be moving to Central America by the summer. He was totally over our neighborhood, totally over New York. A common trope here now is that money has ruined everything, it feels like nothing is going on, the crowds that are pushing here are not the same crowds that used to, full of spirit and art and fun. Now everything is just full of money and attitude. I could agree to a point, but he has lived here 17 years, and I just 4-- he slapped me on the stomach and told me I was too new to feel any kind of cynicism-- and has seen a lot of changes. It was the longest conversation we'd ever had, and I learned a little bit about what his life had been like, and wistfully wish I had known him a little better. But of course now he was already on the way out. Halfway through the conversation he sat up, curling up his little body with crossed legs out of arm's reach, but he looked at me and talked in a very animated way. I couldn't help feeling my spirits sinking inside me as time wound down and I dressed to go out. We both agreed it was good we got together before he would go again-- his new apartment would be hard to get to without a car or a long subway ride, and I know how I am, I will be putting my dick in new guys closer by, and before long, he'd be in another country. But I really *am* glad we got one last hurrah, and wish now I had been carrying lube, had eaten less, and could send him to Guatemala with some of my cum in him. But we got what we got.

On the short walk to the subway the street was completely deserted; I have never seen that part of town empty, ever. Underground, three hysterical young black queens were having some complicated issue with their metro cards as I pushed my way through the turnstile beside them, and the platform downstairs was  empty; I'd apparently just missed a train and would have to wait almost 20 minutes. A drum and squawky sax boomed somewhere in the distance, as always at Union Square, even at 2am. Everyone that floated down to the platform as I waited looked sad and tired and dressed up to play New York. The train rumbled and the car that stopped in front of me was half empty, with people dying to get out; the cold night has turned the subway into a homeless encampment. I dashed down to the next car, and gazed into space as I thundered back to my home. It was quiet aboveground here as well-- just too cold for anyone to go out and have a good time on a Friday night.

I woke up earlier than I wanted because of the alcohol. My partner woke up too, and I told him a little about my night with my friend, and whimpered that I was still tired. He stroked my back until I fell asleep again; when I woke up, the bed was empty as he'd gone to work. It's a brilliant clear day outside. The snow is melting from the streets. Spring-- one of my favorite times in New York City-- is still three months away. My friend texted me cheerily from an obscenely long layover in Philadelphia. I read a New York Magazine article that showed me three things I desperately want to do and will probably forget to do. Pieces drop out of your life and later, pieces drop in. In the meantime there is cold, and white, hard light, and warm spots, and steaming coffee, and waiting.

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