Bad Break

So much for athleticism.  Here I am, doing my fatherly thing..coaching my son's basketball team. I'm subbing for a kid who has to pee during a practice. No problem, I can play with these kids, right?  Bring the ball up, give and go. Pass to the middle, a little high, up I go and down - with a thud and a scream. Rolled my ankle.  Nothing like a bunch of 11 year olds to carry you off the court to put things in perspective.

I put my foot up, try and not let the kids see the pain that I'm feeling. "I'm fine" I tell them. Just play, I'll coach from the sidelines. Drive home, open my sneaker and take off my sock and it's already blown up like a softball. I ice it for the night take a few Advils and the next day will be all fine and dandy, right?

Uh, not so quick my ankle says to me. The next day I'm in pain...there will be no gym apparently this morning. But a few days off, right? That's all my body needs. I'm a fine tuned...specimen of a...again, apparently not.

By the end of the week, there's little, if any improvement. My ankle is still very much swollen, and is now turning a beautiful shade of purple..on both sides of the ankle. Clearly, not a good sign. I'm hobbling around like an old man, which, I'm starting to feel..is what I'm becoming.
Make an appointment at the Orthopedist, x-rays, MRI, soft-cast and surgery is a distinct possibility. I'm told I'm lucky. A few years ago, and I'd be in a hard cast, like the paper-machete stuff. I tell the technician that a few years ago I would have gotten up off the gym floor, brushed myself off,  and played the rest of the game. I don't consider myself so lucky.

I've noticed the change. Knees creaky and popping. Snapping in my neck.  Achy shoulder here and there. I go to the gym 6 times a week. Thank god I'm in shape, otherwise I wouldn't be so out of shape.

Age has a funny way of sneaking up on you. How sexy am I gonna be when I meet my next Craigslist killer limping like a Florida Grandpa with a ski boot on? How irresistible is that?

I am lucky for one thing: Thank god I didn't break a hip!

That's What I Want

I don't ask for much..money, health, happiness, a hot guy, hot sex..ok, so maybe I do ask for a lot..so add this or these to the list:

I want this guy's pits:

I don't get into shaved pits, I think they're odd on a man. They make me do double takes at the gym or beach. Why would a guy shave his pits completely? That's part of a guy that makes him a guy..makes him appealing.  But, I do trim my pit hair..but, there is an art to doing so. You don't want it too short, and leaving the hair too long, well, why trim at all?  It's hard to maintain that perfect balance...


I want this guy's ass:

I do my exercises, and that includes my glutes, and lower back extensions. I've got a pretty nice ass, been complimented on it..but, it's got some hair, OK a lot of hair! and it just doesn't seem up to par with the guy above. Fuck my ass! (oops..take that back!)

I want this guy's chest and torso:

I do crunches..many of them. I do chest presses...damn..this guy's body is just..out there! Even his perfect nipples. Love 'em.. I got those flat, wide, nickle sized, dark nipples. Fuck my nipples! (there, that's better!)

I want this guy's eyes:

The guy above doesn't need much else beside amazing eyes. Sometimes a look can get you from across a room. It draws you in. My eyes? Hazel, but somehow, over the years maybe, they've become less white, more yellow, red, bubbly, ech...

I want this guy's hair:

Hair is a sign of a man's virility. If you have a lot of it, people look, appreciate it. If it flows, it looks amazing. It can be spiked, slicked, chopped and shaved. People run their fingers through great hair..and the best, if you've got great hair, it looks good even when you wake up in the morning..without any work.

I want this guy's eyebrows:

Just like pits, a guy's eyebrows are important. They frame the face. I've met guys who sculpt their brows so close that you can't just talk to them, it's almost mesmerizing..looking, staring at these pencil thin eyebrows. Annoying. This guy, obviously does some shaping of his eyebrows, but it's subtle, keeping the natural and manly shape. Mine? I get them trimmed at the barber, clean them up myself with a razor at home. I don't wax, poke, prick, string, thread, or otherwise change their shape.


Forget it! As hard as I work, absent expensive and painful plastic surgery, I'm never going to get any of those things..not the pits, ass, chest, eyes, hair or eyebrows.

Just combine all those things that I want..and give me the guy.

Then, I'll be happy.

Smelly Ass (V)

Tight Squeeze

Was online, and got an email from a guy nearby..like real close to where I work. He had a small window of opportunity to host, and would I wanna come over? He had about 20 minutes, I had even less. His profile looked pretty good, 27, pics were cool, looked slim, smooth..Latin boy. Uncut..but, it would only be a quickie, so what the fuck!

I got there and we head upstairs to his room. Nice, clean..that's a plus. Something about walking into someone else's house, and seeing shit all over..literally. I remember a buddy I used to hook up with, and he had untrained dogs. Literally..shit all over! Gross.

Anyway, he closes his door, lowers my pants and begins sucking me. I'm getting hard and he asks what do I want to do? "What do you think? I ask him. "You wanna fuck? Ok" and turns to grab some lube and a condom.

I put the condom on, and he gets on his knees turning his ass to me. I guide in and wait till he's comfortable. He squeezes his ass..and it clamps down on my cock. Fucking awesome feeling...

We fuck and I'm about to come...and I just stop..trying to hold out. He does that squeeze thing again and there's no hope..I'm blowing my load.

Not a lot of time, but, we were able to squeeze it in.

Hump Day: Harry Broza

Long Lost Buddy

A guy that I had spoken to online a long time ago recently started to IM me. I don't know if I ever wrote about him..but I can give you a brief history...

I met him when I was first exploring guys. The method I used to explore, and get some skin on skin contact with another guy was through massages. The person I set up a massage with was an older guy, and he had 2 or 3 young guys in addition to him, who massaged at his place.  I was pretty nervous, but finally made an appointment.  I made it pretty clear that I wasn't into this older guy and when I got to his house for my appointment, my feelings were justified.

The older guy answered the door, invited me in and showed me the room where I would get the massage from the younger guy that I picked. It was creepy..not the room, not the house..but this guy...he was..leering at me..saying things like "you know, I can be in the room if you like, I don't have to take part..." ugh.

Finally, this guy shows up. He walks up the stairs and the older guy leaves. I'm told to undress, lay on the massage table, face down and he places a towel over my lower half. He then also undresses, down to his underwear.

The guy is young, maybe 21. Was very thin, white, smooth, cute. Tiny ass...and a little effeminate. But, a cutie, nice guy.  He's all business for about 30 minutes. We are getting comfortable with each other, talking about different things. We somehow get to the topic of the older guy...and he says yea, he's a bit creepy, b but a nice guy. I told him we should meet up again for a massage..without this other guy knowing.  He agreed.

He then took a ridiculous amount of baby oil or something...poured it on the front of my body (I was now turned over), and rubbed my chest, legs, etc with it, greasing me up good. He then greased his body up, got on top of me and did this sliding thing...sliding his body up and down on my body. While it wasn't bad, it wasn't exactly..comfortable. But, I guess a lot of the clients asked for this type of body work.

After, he jerked me off...as I played with his body and cute little ass.  We jumped into the shower together (although that was against the rules) and he washed me up.  After that we became pretty good online buddies and we met a few more times at his place, where he massaged me, and a few times, we fucked.


The first time we fucked, I was real new to it, and he was a willing and able participant. That time, we didn't use protection, and he had encouraged me, after my short, but unprotected past, to go get tested.  He also was one of the ones to convince me early on that fucking without protection was pretty stupid.

That time I got tested, I wrote about here: Testing...Testing...  From then on, except for the times with Ross, I have consistently been a good boy.  OK, enough background...

So, we have chatted recently and he's been asking me to hangout..well, basically he wants to have sex again. I told him we just have to find a day and time that works for both of us, and sure, I was into it. So, we'll see..I think it probably will come to nothing, since he's only in town on occasion and lives quite a bit away.  But nice to know I left a good impression.

Here's the Plan

God, I'm almost through responding or even listening to these guys. The guys I'm talking about are the mostly anonymous commenters..the righteous, closed minded, annoying and opinionated couple of readers of this blog that have been inundating me with abusive comments what they consider my "obligation" regarding my life and family.

"We know the answer. Then to post about her not aging well. I don't care if it's honest. It's just cruel and served no constructive purpose. He can give us that peek some other way. Some things I don't want to see. It's worse than kicking a puppy. Not cool."

They say my wife doesn't deserve "this", and of course, I have to agree. They say I'm being cruel, abusive and that eventually, my deceit will result in a terrible outcome for me and my family.  They want to know my "plan", and to give you guys..guys who I allow to read about my life, my inner thoughts, my feelings..and provide a timetable:

"But how much longer will it go on? I guess many of us are looking for you to make a move, to make some sort of decision. I am not trying to put you on a timetable. I am just trying to explain why people are getting frustrated. There is no movement in your dilemma - no movement in any direction. We'd like to help you through it, but you are not taking any steps in either direction toward anything. It is just one big wallow. Maybe it would be better if you'd just come out and say you are not looking for a solution. You are not looking to change, you want to keep things the way they are, and you just want to blog about your feelings, but are not going anywhere with them. Then we'd know what to expect from you, and that would be ok. It's the not-knowing that bugs us - weather or not you are going to decide something. Just tell us you are not ever going to change, and we'll be fine with that. The air would be clear."

I do have a response. I do want to clear the air. So here it goes:

This is my plan: I have no intention of leaving my kids in their formidable growing years. If, and that's a big if..if after my kids have grown, maybe at some point I can decide what to do..leave my wife, or not. That's the plan..basically, I have none. Selfish? Yes...destructive? Sure. Mean, obnoxious, rude, sad, dishonest...I know..I've heard it all, and it's nothing I haven't thought about myself. As I've said before, I am my worst critic.

How's that? Not good enough for you, I'm sure.  I'm sure I have to decide now...so you know what to "expect from me." Maybe I haven't made progress..but, I don't think that's your decision to make. I never started this blog and said it was my coming out story..look at the byline: it's "The life and times of a masculine, closeted, bisexual man." I never purported or advertised it to be a full disclosure to my family. Never said it was about me coming clean. Never wrote that I was going to be a changed man.

If you want to read about someone's coming out stories, there are plenty of blogs out there, or better yet, start your own insightful, revealing and honest blog for everyone to read and criticize.

I know I've done some good by writing here. It helps me, yes, but others have told me it helped them too. Maybe it will prevent someone from making the same mistakes I have made.  I'm nearly done with the bombardment of nasty criticism and demands. I can certainly ban anonymous comments or delete the comments I deem inappropriate. I've never felt a need to do that..but it could all be coming soon.

You don't like the way my life is developing, headed or addressed here? Then do me a favor: fuck off and don't read about it. You won't be missed.

Boy Talk

I was at the gym, after my run, which always makes me..uh..well..I guess the pounding of the aerobic exercise basically cleans my pipes, if you know what I mean. So I head to the bathroom, sit on the bowl..and was doing my deed (sorry guys).

In walks in three guys into the locker room, and I'm listening to their conversation. I hear one guy says something about "Heywoood"

"Heywood who?" says one of the other guys
"Heywood Ja'Blome" says the first, as they all chuckle and leave the locker room after peeing, or changing.

Pretty lame, old joke I think.

Anyway, I finish my business, walk out of the bathroom and into the gym: arm/shoulder day. I see three guys working out together and I'm nearby.  Two of the guys are more built..the short stocky kinda guys. The third..is well, wearing a black wife-beater, red shorts, and is lean, tanned, and fucking hot Italian looking type.

I'm over-hearing some more of their talk.

"...she's bi dude, she likes guys and girls.  And her boyfriend is cool with it" says one.
"I don't care who's she's fucking, as long as I can take part" says another.

Then they see some girl walk by..an older woman I should say, but she's tall, blond, and I know her, she runs marathons.  They look at her as she walks away from them..

"I gotta eat that ass" says one.
"Eww.." says hottie Italian guy.
"Hey, you don't do that?" asks the first guy.  "That's why you don't get no pussy!" he jokes and they all laugh.

I don't know, I guess it's pretty normal talk between men, boys, friends etc. But, any conversation I ever had with my friends when I was in high school or college, I know was based on me being horny, and wondering if I could get some interest from some of my friends.

Heywood Ja'Blowme? Absolutely! would be my answer.

The Dark Side of the Moon

There's a bad moon rising....

Recently, I've seen a few of my fellow blogger's thought provoking posts which were both interesting and reflective. They also were down right depressing, miserable, negative and suicidal. They are thoughts that I have had often..and had written about here.

"Cameron" in his blog If I Do the Right Thing wrote about how misery loves company. I saw his words and visioned my day and my unhappy life.  It could have been written by me. "MM" gave us all a serious scare in his post on his blog New Day, New Life. He seemed to be "signing off" whether that meant his blog or life nobody knew. But he did receive supportive comments from others and is seemingly OK now.

There are a few problems with this blogging thing: and the first is the anonymous commenters who vent hatred. They think that they are the authority on being gay, bi, and coming out. That they know what is right and should be done. But, it's never as easy as they think. Yes, us married, closeted guys could come out, but we've been struggling with this our whole lives. Yes, we are deceiving others, and robbing our "loved ones" of their lives....but, for us, from our point of view, there is no "winning". We can come out to our wives and family and cause disruption, heart-ache and the possible loss of our family. Therefore, we continue to hide and we lie, cheat, and break our vows.

The anonymous posters don't see the struggle we are under. They also don't sympathize with us, yet they continue to watch the car crash...read our blogs..and spew hatred and engage in bullying. Why do they read? Why bother to comment on something they find so distasteful? They push bloggers to the edge sometimes...telling us what we already know about ourselves.

These readers, who are so angry at our actions, so disgusted by what we do, so against the deception..why do you keep coming back and reading our blogs? This week, I posted some thoughts about my wife in this blog. They were thoughts..I didn't actually say them. I was venting and revealing to my readers what I think..good or bad. I never said that what I do, how I act or what I think is ideal: it's not. But, at least I'm disclosing to you how I feel. Isn't that what you want? Honesty from a writer? Do you want me to hide my thoughts? I don't think so.

What I said are probably thoughts I can bet thousands of people have had about their wives, in-laws or friends and coworkers. It was simply a response to the age-old question "Do you think I look fat in this?" To come down on me because I disclosed what I was really thinking was odd to me. You mean to tell me you haven't had the same thoughts about your significant other? Your in-law? Your best friend when asked that question?

Now with regard to my marriage..whether I was cheating on my wife with other girls or with guys, it doesn't matter. They say about 20 percent of marriages are "sexless marriages." I can tell you from speaking with friends of mine, people married for many years, that I am not alone. The reason for the sexless marriages could be incompatibility, work, family or social pressures, money issues, physical or medical issues, or it could be that one of the spouses is cheating. Again, you can't blame the almost 50% divorce rate in America on me.

Yet the venom that I received from a lot of you is off the charts. I've been called a liar, cheat, a horrible person, father, husband and even have been compared to OJ Simpson, a supposed murderer of two people. Yet, these commenters keep coming back for more. Keep reading, keep spewing venom and hate themselves. I have never intentionally stopped comments from being posted, and I read each and every one and approve each prior to publishing. But, should I deny anonymous comments? Deny those that are contrary or critical of me? I prefer not to, because I believe in not only the constitutional rights of free speech but encourage thoughtful, reflective and construction criticism. But often, the criticism is not constructive. I suppose there could be a way of being delicate or more tactful with your comments.

Cameron was right, guys that are Bi Like Me are miserable. We are unhappy..stuck in the middle - trying to balance a scale that is clearly unbalanced and out of whack - knowing what we do is wrong yet unable and too weak to take the leap and correct our wrongdoings.

We want to be happy, we truly do. But, we lack the bravery. We lack the bravery to come out to our loved ones and honestly, we also lack the bravery to take the ultimate step to rid ourselves of the torment we feel. See? I know what I do..I know that I'm bad..my worst critic aren't my readers..it's myself. I beat myself up every day..I don't need beatings from you too.

Despite what is written about us, despite the hatred that comes our way, the only solace is that we know we are not alone.

Hump Day: Markus Ricci

Latin Heat II

Thing's finally worked with the Latin guy I've been chatting with (Latin Heat). Recently, I was able to arrange to drop by his house.

I walked into his house and he invited me upstairs to his bedroom, where the TV was on and there was a ton of shit laying around. Not dirty..just a mess.

"Sorry for the mess" he says with his Dominican accent.
"No problem" I respond.

He's cute. Hair is almost shaved..he's very thin, thinner than I remember in his pictures online. That's not a bad thing though. We sit on his bed and chat. He talks very low..and between the volume of his voice and the accent, it's almost hard to understand exactly what he's saying sometimes.

We end up rubbing each others legs..which leads to some kissing, heavy kissing and then he offers me a massage.  Massage? That's right up my alley!

He tells me to "get comfortable" and I take off my shirt, and he waves at me to take off my pants too. I lay on his bead, in my black Calvin briefs and he begins his massage.  It's not more than two minutes later that his hands are roaming beneath my briefs, rubbing my butt as he's kissing me yet again.  So much for a massage.

I roll over, pull off his pants and shirt. He's got a great, small ass. The type of smooth ass that fits almost in one hand - me gusto!

He's very passionate..as I find many Latinos are. Deep, deep kissing. I'm more the flutterer type kisser, if you know what I mean..but, it was cool. We change positions many times, rubbing each other, holding and rubbing. His back and ass to my front,  me on top of him, him on top of me..no fucking..just good, clean fun.

He sucks my cock, and wants to see me shoot. I jerk myself as he lays on my stomach, and gets a face full. He then lays down, and jerks himself while I suck his nipples and rub his legs.

We clean up in the shower together...another favorite thing of mine. So, all in all..nice, fun guy. I'll probably see him again..but...sparks? Well..maybe some glowing..not exactly sparks.

The Loaded Question

I've been asked that question before, many times. We all have (if you're married, or have a girlfriend, or significant other). It's the question that shouldn't be asked, unless you're a glutton for punishment. If you want to hear something bad, ask someone:
"Does this make me look fat?"

There's no winning. The honest answer, "Yes" would be worthy of death, in a not so painless way. Needles in the eyes? Placed in a cage with a hungry bear and being mauled to death as his dinner? A can of kerosene being poured on you and being tossed a match?  Buried alive?  Whatever is most painful, that's what you get if you answer honestly.

To lie and say "No." and say it convincingly is the issue. I mean, if someone is asking, it's unlikely they look like a swimsuit model. They're asking because, in all possibility, they do look fat, they have in the past looked fat, and typically..are fat.

My wife, asking me the question, requires quick thinking..maybe it's that Twix break I need (there's a commercial for a candy bar that shows a guy being asked some important question...or a teacher is asking a student a question in class and the person taking a bite of a Twix candy bar in order to allow him time to answer). But, that would require me carrying around a candy bar at all times...at inopportune times...into the shower, when I get home from work, when I'm not expecting it.  It's like carrying around the Epi-pen, or a Hari-Kari knife, or a vile of lethal drug a soldier would carry in case of enemy capture.  I need that.

Or I can just swallow, take a deep breath, udder the words and be brave, and suffer the consequences.

"Fat? I wouldn't exactly say that. But, yes dear, that outfit does not look flattering on you.  But, rather than get angry at me, take this opportunity of constructive criticism to act on changing things about yourself that you don't like. Hit the gym, cut down on snaking, eat smaller meals. It's incredibly hard work, but, I know you can do it.  Frankly, you no longer look like the woman I married. You're still a great mother, person and friend. But, you look different and I can't lie and tell you that I'm not disappointed in how you've aged."

Anyone have that Hari-Kari knife?

Show Me The Love

I had a conversation/email with one of my "readers" and he brought up an idea for me.  He suggested that I ask my readers to comment on why they read my blog.  So, show me the love (or hate)..why do you read my blog?

Any suggestions are appreciated!
(BTW would appreciate you guys voting for me at best male blogs -see to right).

Sweet Temptations

Someone responded to my ad on CL. I didn't expect anything unusual (or more unusual than I normally get from CL). The person gave me stats, which seems interesting. "Send a pic" I respond.

I get this pic and it's, well, a kid. At least it looked like a kid. I ask him what his age was, and then get an IM on AIM. I find out he's 17.

"17! man", I write. "I may be stupid, but I'm not crazy!"
"Camon, I'm fun" he says.
"I don't doubt it. But, I'm in my 40's, married. YOU'RE 17!"  I exclaim.
"So what!" he says. "Age is a number"


 Good point, I think.

"Yea, problem is though that you're number is 17!" I say again.
"What, you don't like a hot guy to service you?" he asks

Touche' I think. Another good point.

"Send me some more pics" he says "and I'll send you my ass pic."
"Listen, you seem nice, apparently very cute, probably hot, and I don't doubt you're fun. But, I don't think this can work" I say, trying to convince myself, as much as I am trying to convince him.

 "OK" he says. "But whenever you want amazing head, let me know."

Ugh, I hate being noble.

Hump Day: Colin Brazeau

Eyes, Epilogue?

I had anticipated that something would come of it..but, maybe I was wrong to do so. I had certainly hoped that I was more than just a convenient fuck (although we didn't fuck), guess I was..a convenient hook-up.
Hurt? eh...maybe disappointed is the word I would use.

You see, I don't meet someone all that much that I find a connection with, I suppose that's true of most of us. That's why Manhunt, Adam, Craigslist, and all the dating sites are so successful.  It's just not so easy to find Mr. or Mrs. Perfect. When you do meet someone, and there's a spark, connection, something you consider more than just a "sex" meeting, you hope for more.

When I met Mark, I was immediately drawn, intrigued and attracted. I had hoped that he felt the same. Maybe he did, I mean, we were intimate..kissed, he sucked me...but, maybe I was just a hook-up to him. He hasn't engaged in a conversation after that first email..not at all. My emails, other than the initial one, go unanswered.

I suppose what goes around comes around. But, I thought maybe this married guy..would be looking for a regular thing..something that I am looking for.

But, maybe not.

Normal is Underrated

Yes, Osama bin Laden is dead. We can all rejoice in the fact that the retribution for the September 11 attacks has been done.  But, despite the death of the terror mastermind, America is not safer after his death.

You will not see the security lines at the airports disappear. You still cannot bring bottles of shampoo or aftershave on your flights. There still will be wanding of spectators at ball games and concerts in America and everyone will still be asked to speak up should they see something unusual in the streets of New York.  Yes, despite the death of the mastermind of the largest attack on US soil and the world's most notorious terrorist, the United States will never be the same after that fateful Fall day.

I was on my way to work on that crisp day in New York, about 14 miles from what is now known as "Ground Zero."  I was listening to Howard Stern, a radio host known more for strippers, fart jokes and butt bongo fiesta than serious news stories, when he notified his listeners that a plane "accidentally" hit the towers. As I ran to my office and put on CNN I soon was surrounded by all my employees, as we watched, and speculated.  It wasn't long after the first plane hit that our speculation became confirmed: The United States was under attack.

That day, actually, days, and weeks changed me and all New Yorkers and United States citizens forever. New York was in a proverbial lock down. You couldn't enter the city from a suburb because every roadway was blocked by police cars. It became an unwelcome vacation. From my office, you could see the plumes of smoke coming from what used to be the World Trade Center.

Months later, when things returned to post 9/11 "normal", traveling on the subways was eerily quiet.  There was no longer  the chatter of people that existed prior. The chuckles of regular conversation disappeared. Even the singers that begged for money were no longer there.  New Yorkers were in mourning.

The death of bin Laden only proves that the United States will persevere until justice is completed, it doesn't mean that things will return to normal. People are always suspicious, never comfortable, because in the back of their minds they know that inevitably, it will happen again. Despite his death, there are hundreds maybe thousands clambering to replace bin Laden.



The heroes today are those in the United States military. Those that killed bin Laden should be heralded, interviewed and enshrined. It could be a moment of incomprehensible joy and celebration. We need to celebrate the minor accomplishments, because tomorrow, next month or next year, we go back to normal: the lines, the security, the wanding, the unavoidable and necessary invasive tactics that are now part of our everyday culture.

It's no surprise that rebels in Egypt accomplished more in a few months of peaceful protesting than bin Laden accomplished in years of terror, mayhem and threats. Mohamed Bouazizi, a 26-year-old Tunisian fruit-and-vegetable seller, had doused himself in petrol, flicked a lighter and started a revolution that spread to many Middle East countries demanding democracy.  He is a hero and proves that peaceful protest works better than terrorism.

Ding Dong the Witch is dead. But, I dream of the days when things were normal.

Eyes Wide Open, Part 4

Part 4 of a 4 Part Series
I'm all together happy, and yet somehow disappointed. This guy..came into my life..however briefly. He seemed, downright perfect. A great personality, wonderful sense of humor, quite the looker, hot ass, just the right amount of bravery and forwardness..married..straight acting..yes, even the fucking eyes were perfect.

I've felt this way before..maybe more than once..but definitely once. I felt that connection..upon first sight. I can't get it out of my head! And yes, it was with Ross.

The first day I met him, in a planned meeting at the parking lot of a strip mall, he rolled down his window and I knew..knew that he was special. There was an instant connection, an immediate comfortableness. Like you just found your best friend.  The easiness of the conversation..the feeling of happiness..I noticed it right away. Similarly, there was a spark between Mark and I.

The only issue I see is the distance...but, at this rate..I think I'd make the effort to work something out. As long as he's willing..

I email him at the end of the day that we met:

Don't who this is..but you dropped your email address in my locker today.  Hopefully you're hot and not one of those bald mustached guys that were following me around today.
With any luck you're that hot married guy from the showers with the great ass. ;)

That night I get that much anticipated response:

It would take me years to grow a big walrus mustache like that! Hope the rest of your day was great.. eventful and relaxing. 

Thanks again for the fun!

Mark

I write him back the next day, telling him I'm running around for work the next day, but that I hope to chat with him online soon.

I can only hope.

Eyes Wide Open, Part 3

Part 3 of a 4 Part Series
Yes, his eyes were telling. I know it sounds crazy..but they spoke to me.  I saw his eyes, and I knew right then and there that this guy..was special.  Or I hope he'd be. (Freakin shoot me for being spur of the moment, for falling fast, for leading with my heart...)

We kiss in the shower, with the water from two showers running on us. We're embracing, and kissing..tonguing each other as we watch..yes..with eyes wide open...watching each other..seeing into each others soul. I love that...

I break from the moment. I ask..
"What happens after today. Where are you going? Are you going to run out on me?"
"I have to..I'm gonna have to go.." he responds..

I'm grabbing his ass..running my hand along his chest. Stroking his arms..he's fingering my ass..making his way with his mouth down to my cock that is more than willing to accommodate his waiting lips. Then, I hear a noise..someone in the locker room.  We straighten up, soap up and shower..as the noise and the person disappears.

We embrace again. Kiss some more..and go through the routine a few more times, each time interrupted by another intruder. Eventually, he's hands up against the shower walls, with my arms around his chest, head back and turned to the side, as we kiss and my cock desires to be in its resting place...but just frolics around his ass and back door.  Again I hear his whisper: "I want you to fuck me."

Shit..I turn him around..kiss him deeply as he strokes my cock, and I stroke his. Eventually, I'm beating off, spurting cum shots all over the shower floor and he's watching me with those eyes transfixed on my every move.

We wash up..and again I pull him back.

"Don't leave" I plead.
"I have to" he responds.
"Leave me your email address" I say. "Locker 14A" I tell him.

He smiles, and walks toward the exit. I watch as his white, smooth ass leave my site for the (hopefully not) last time.

I rinse off. Wonder if I'm ever going to wake up from this dream. I turn off the water, get dressed and head to the lockers. I notice he's no longer there..and I open my locker, wondering, hoping, praying...

and a piece of paper falls on the floor.
Mark&%$#@yahoo.com

Yes, there is a god.