web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Forgetting, Never Remembering

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Forgetting, Never Remembering

Maybe I've officially gotten off with too many dudes. On Mister a tight little torso hit me up telling me I was "sizzlin' hott!!" or whatever those canned messages on there say, but had no face pic. I liked his little body, and his profile said he wanted to work on his "oral talents" lately, so I told him he could suck my dick all he wanted. I think he wanted to take it to WhatsApp-- kids these days and their proliferation of apps!-- and we traded face pix there. Whereupon he announced we had hooked up before. I didn't recognize him at all, and asked how long ago. "A long time ago," he said, "maybe years." Somehow I vaguely registered the memory of fucking a tiny muscular little dude like him, but details were hazy as the answer from a Magic 8 Ball. But the offer of tireless cocksucking certainly appealed to me. We played WhatsApp tag for a couple of weeks, but today was the day. As soon as he showed up, I completely recognized him, and now that he's gone, I found the previous entry about him and re-read it. Wow! We hooked up over two years ago, and I slipped my bare bone into him! Crikey.

I was messin' around down there today and he clearly liked it but when I began gettin the choad near the hole, he squirmed away, hiding his rear but showing me that sweet, taut curve of a body from the side, looking at me coyly, smiling and kissing me and grabbing for my dick. I wonder if he remembers me barebacking him last time and wanted to head that off at the pass. Maybe he got caught up in the moment then and had my number now. Or maybe he's just older and wiser. So instead we 69ed and I mock-fucked his perfect little body and then unloaded my nuts right down his throat. He asked me to videotape him, which I don't normally like, but I was happy to do it with him. So there is a video of my dick out there somewhere with a little dude all over it. Like the boyfriend in Kika, I spent half the time watching myself get sucked on the little screen of his camera, which is inexplicably hotter than watching it in real life, somehow. The gleaming spot of light from the bedside table, shining brightly on the broad fleshy shape of my engorged, wet dickhead. The clear straight flesh of my prick rising up out of the murky shadows of my hairy groin. In fact, filming the last, longest video, in progress after a full hour of jabbing and humping my dick into his mouth and all over his body, put me right up to the edge, and I had to stop filming, and tried to tell him to slow down, but instead I just ended up popping right then and there. Should have kept the camera running for him. His face changed dramatically when I began shooting-- before he looked boyish and rather perky; as my nuts erupted with a salty deluge, his face darkened, his brows kitted and lowered over his eyes, he looked at me with an almost savage expression, quite divorced from normal reality, and he stopped moving and just let me explode. "Don't stop don't stop don't stop," I whimpered, and he began sucking me again, lapping against the spot he knew would maximize my climax. Beautiful. Long after I was done, and my hard fuckstick had withered down to a slimy noodle, he kept sucking at me, tasting my rank manhood and feeling my dick's flesh against his tongue. I sighed and relaxed deeply.

He went to the bathroom briefly to wash out his mouth, I think; he came back and curled up at my side, and kept raising his face up to mine for a kiss; his mouth was cool inside and tasted fresh as rainwater. I stroke his smooth body as best I could with my now cost-free but otherwise stiff and useless right hand. He didn't seem to want to make small talk, which was fine; we stayed there quietly in the darkening room in that little yellow puddle of light from the bedside lamp, just feeling each other.

It was nice, but deeply strange. I know I had been with him before but had very little recollection of him, or anything about him. Eventually we did talk a bit, and he mentioned he was a videographer (also mentioned in the last entry, completely forgotten by me), that he lived in Astoria. He confirmed that we had hooked up in this apartment. It all rang zero bells. And here we are snuggling after a very intense hour tangled up together in sublime ecstasy-- at one point I was on top of him, one arm circling his waist under him, the other holding the back of his head, his feet resting on my calves, his thighs clamped against my big body, his hands roaming all over my back while we kissed so deeply it felt like we were barely corporeal any more; more like some kind of warm, sentient liquid. And we had done it all before, and even more, and I didn't remember at all.

Finally he asked to rinse off in the shower, and I sat down at my computer to find a new onslaught of issues and emails at my increasingly stressful job. As before-- which I only know because I just read the freakin entry from May of 2012-- he was less cuddly and more curt after his shower. He barely seemed to want to kiss goodbye-- after all that canoodling in bed. There are corners of his personality that only barely expose himself to me, but he gave me his body absolutely freely, gave me pleasure for as long as I could take it. He has a video. I have two blog entries. The time we spent together dilated to an age of pleasure in the moment; now it has shrunk to a curious anecdote.

I started this blog somehow not to forget experiences I have, but if I read it from start to finish, I'm sure I'd find many of these guys, who set me on fire for an hour and filled my language with superlatives, but then faded into obscurity. Life is full of too many things, too many lights and sounds and pleasures, you can't hope to save all the baubles you collect; life itself would smother you to death if fully remembered. I will probably mostly remember that I forgot this kid, and was amazed anew at how good he could make me feel. But the kid himself, the feeling itself, those will fall out of reach again. So strange.

6 comments:

  1. I feel exactly the same sometimes. And I too, use my blog to refresh my memory when I find that I've connected before with someone. Thanks for putting it into words.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's a very strange experience. Sometimes even when you *do* remember someone, having it all spelled out and revisiting it can be surreal. A friend once sent me back an email I sent him in grad school, twenty years before, and it was hilarious and interesting and I have no recollection of writing it at all. We are constantly losing parts of ourselves; a sentimental person like me sometimes feels overwhelmed at memories lost.

      Delete
  2. I had that happen to me, but in reverse. This guy I dated for about 4 months and was one of his 1st gay experiences had no idea who I was. My real 1st name is quite memorable and so is my voice (an actual fact). After reminding him about this, his talking bird, what turned him on and even some pics...nada. I didn't know what to say. lol
    BlkJack

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haha, I am often in a position like that, Jack-- not with someone I dated that long, though! I routinely meet people I've met incidentally through other people and can tell them all kinds of things about them and they just look at me helplessly. I wonder what is so distinctive about your voice?

      Delete
  3. You seem very sexy in your pic!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well thanks, Mr! Just a regular guy here really.

      Delete