Last time I complained here about how long it had been since I had sex, I got some that same night (sort of). So, here goes - WAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - I haven't had any sort of sexual contact in over a week - WAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, and I can't really count those incidents because, well, none of those guys saw fit to even touch me "down there". Yeah, really. How's that for ego-deflation? OK. Tuesday, March 5th, a man came over, we watched porno, we got excited, we did the kissy thing (which is good, don't get me wrong) but the sex thing, as fun as it was, since it was our 2nd time, well, um, I thought his interests might take him down to, well, you know, my thick, hard, throbbing man-meat, you know? Granted, I could've spoken up, or just shoved it in his face and or hands, but that's not the point. (gee, man, why don't ya get to the point, already)

Desire. It's all about desire; being desired expressing desire, showing desire. A blow job isn't that hard to get (or so I've been told), but to actually feel like someone wants you, wants to put that silly smile on your face, get you all sticky and sweaty, hear you moan those soft, growling, pleading moans that come from your heart, not some porno-movie script. And so, after staying in the next night, I went out Thursday, thinking "grab a beer, who knows, maybe" - Well, I got pretty bored and discouraged after one beer, and reverted to old habits, heading down to Bijou 82, paying my 10 bucks, and I began the pacing.

Quickly enough, some hairy beast who I had experienced before was giving me the eye, and I figured, well, we've done it before, and it's not a mutual thing (i.e. I go down on him, he pats my head occasionally, we sweat, maybe he'll cum) - but I thought maybe it could be my "warm up". And that's pretty much what happened, and he didn't cum, but did that self-conscious giggle, which I guess means "gee, I can't cum, but I think we're done". Fine. I'm a grown man, I can handle it. We part, I go lean against something somewhere for a bit, watching the guys stroll by, and the hairy beast comes over. Starts to chat. About nothing. No clear indication of interest, more like passing the time. I don't want to pass the time, I want someone to grab my cock and go "yum, slurp, garble, give me all of it" or some reasonable variation on that. Or even a long, hard kiss. Something that says there is something about me that is desirable, not merely a place to put your dick.

Bachelor #2. Again, I should've known better, since this was the "standing in my booth stroking my cock leering at you" routine, but well, I was sort of hypnotized by the damn thing. I went in, feasted for a while, but I never even saw the guy's face, let alone him getting his face near me. Some sort of baseball cap shadowing his entire face, and soon enough I got the self-consious giggle, and the "gee, I can't cum" thing. Okely Dokely Doo! A few moments later, walking down the hall, some guy (handsome, fat long cock, who I've experienced, but never to "completion") grabs me and pulls me into his booth. "Um, you were in that booth awhile, is that guy a top?" Great, now I'm expected to give referances? Needless to say, I wasn't asked to remain in the booth for any sex.

Bachelor #3. It's after 2 a.m. by now, I've been here one or two hours, but a guy is giving me the eye, we do the dance for awhile, passing each other slowly, etc. Eventually, I grab a booth, he comes in, and I try the hugging, stroking your body thing. We don't get very far here, I unbutton him, figuring it's getting late, lemme cum and go, so to speak. Meanwhile, he's up there saying something, but low enough that I can't quite hear him. And you can't exaclty tell someone in one of these situations, "excuse me, the acoustics in here really suck, could you direct that dirty talk downward, and a bit louder, please?" He's a bit rough, shoving his whole body into the blowjob, but I've managed to balance it to where I'm still able to breathe (barely) but then I hear him. Or I think I do. I swear he says "faggot". I've been in these situations where guys use the p-word, and it's such a turn off, but usually they grasp that its a turn-off, and stop. But now he's looking straight down at me, and says "Tell me you're a faggot; you like it, don't you?" Ummmm.

I let his teeny cock fall out of my mouth (yes, I like size, but I never turn someone down after they open their pants, I figure if I had been turned on before the unveiling, we can still have fun ), I'm thinking "that's MR Faggot to you", but as I stand up, I quickly decide it's not worth it. Sometimes silence is golden. He's not worth my time or energy. I'm standing up, we are face to face, and I start to pull my clothes back on. "What's your name?" he oddly asks. I continue dressing, and he starts to pull up his pants as he says "Don't talk much, eh?" My usually smart-ass mind tells me again it's not worth it. "Nope". I finish dressing, and head out of the booth, figuring he probably has enough "issues" and I just need to get out.

So, anyone up for taking me out for a beer tonight?