bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings

Monday, September 23, 2002
After a fairly slow evening at work, here I sat, thinking about the man I'd spent the last 2 late Friday afternoons with, getting ready to go to the Cock. I may see him one more time, but I really ought to do the "let's be friends" thing. See, he lives with his boyfriend, and while they have an "open" relationship, I don't. I mean, I don't have another relationship, so getting involved with someone who does, and getting tangled up in some sort of emotional tie with him would be a very bad idea. I must've lost 5 pounds Friday rolling around the bed with him, drenched in sweat and giggling. But he had plans to go to the movies or something, and who wants to hear about that? I can't do the fuck-buddy thing, I'm only able to do anonymous sex with someone I don't know. Once I know you, it has to move on to some other level, and here, it's just not possible. So, maybe just one more time, with the understanding that that will be it. He's handsome and affectionate and interesting, and while I certainly couldn't (yet) see him as "the one", I could see spending a lot more time with him over the next few months, and that just ain't gonna happen, so I ought to nip it.

So, as I strapped the cockring on, thinking of all this, my thoughts turned to the limitations of my usual Sunday night outing, where a bunch of rude men stand in the dark crawling over each other to see if someone has their cock out and if they can touch it. I'd love to be able to rig up some cameras from above, and just film the goings-on. And while prepared that not much would most likely happen, and that I should be prepared to simply humor myself by watching, smoking some weed, having a beer, it was in fact particularly annoying there last night. Several small groups of friends descended upon the backroom, each sipping their cocktails through tiny straws as they kept screaching at each other insane remarks that they chuckled over and remarked at how terribly clever they were being. "Oh so-and-so, get that nasty dick out of your mouth!" Hehe haha hoho. "Oh so-and-so, what are you doing back here, you naughty boy" What idiots. I really wish their were a list of rules, like:

Rule #1 - NO ACTING LIKE SILLY FAGGOTS.
Rule #2 - NO REALLY, STOP ACTING LIKE SILLY FAGGOTS, I MEAN IT.
Rule #3 - USE YOUR BACKROOM VOICE.
Rule #4 - DON'T BRING YOUR (anatomical) GIRLFRIENDS BACK HERE.
Rule #5 - STOP ACTING LIKE SILLY FAGGOTS, GODDAMNIT!
Rule #6 - WHEN SOMEONE PULLS HIS DICK AWAY FROM YOU, PUTS IT BACK IN HIS JOCKSTRAP, AND ZIPS UP, THAT'S A "NO THANK YOU" - PLEASE STOP TRYING TO PULL IT BACK OUT
Rule #7 - WHEN GETTING A BLOWJOB, OCCASIONALLY ACKNOWLEDGE THE GIVER WITH SOME SORT OF EYECONTACT, TOUCHING, OR SOME MOANING. CONSTANTLY CHECKING OUT THE REST OF THE ROOM WITHOUT ANY SORT OF ACKNOWLEDGEMENT THAT YOU ARE GETTING HEAD IS REALLY, REALLY RUDE.
Rule #8 - WHEN FINISHED WITH A PARTNER, A "THAT'S ALL, THANKS" PAT ON THE HEAD, ASS, OR BACK IS IN ORDER. TAKING YOUR DICK OUT OF YOUR PARTNER'S MOUTH, AND TURNING YOUR BACK TO HIM AS YOU START TO SUCK SOMEONE ELSE WITHOUT A THANK-YOU PAT IS REALLY, REALLY, RUDE.
Rule #9 - MANAGEMENT RESERVES THE RIGHT TO IMPOSE MORE RULES AT IT'S DISCRETION, AND PLEASE, TAKE YOUR SILLY TITTERING AND "OH GIRLFRIEND" SQUEALING OUT OF THE BACKROOM. In fact, take it out of the bar, and out of my fuckin' neighborhood.