I’ve been staying with lesbian friends while I’m travelling and I haven’t cum in a week. I’m so pent up that my cock is leaking precum constantly, even when I’m not hard. Who is going to take care of it for me, and how?
Erin and I had fooled around a handful of times after getting to know each other on Grindr. He was forty or so, a total DILF, built but not chiseled, and hairy. I only later learned he had a fiancé, and not soon after, he and Ken said their nuptials. It took about a year before I ran into them again at a club. Erin left Ken and me to our own devices so we could get to know each other, dance together, grind a little … He was taller, slim, with a runner’s build.
The night was cut short when a mix-up got Erin thrown out of the bar. I found myself catching a ride back to their place. We didn’t really talk about what was going on, but my dick had a pretty good idea and was trying to get my attention before we got out of the car. Once we made it inside, the nerves hit. I’d had threesomes before and I’d been with Erin before, but the pair of them together had me unsure of myself. Ken must have sensed my nerves and he cuddled up next to me on the couch to chat while Erin disappeared. I soon found myself being dragged to the bedroom where Erin was relaxing on the bed in nothing but his briefs, and Ken and I joined him.
It was after physics lecture. There was one dude in my class with the most gorgeous body; I could tell because he always wore tight shirts and short gym shorts. His legs were so fit and rippled every time he walked, and his built thighs always made my mouth water as I thought about the ass that was just a few inches above them but covered by those damn shorts. His chest was defined and perfectly proportioned, and the best days were when he wore cut t-shirts that showed his nipples when he turned the right way. His shoulders were massive and led naturally into the solid curves of his biceps.
Every time I walked into class I tried to sit around him, each time getting a different view of his Adonis self. Today I had shown up to the lecture before he did, so I had to just pick a seat and hope it would give a good view. And my luck was with me because no sooner had I sat down then he came in and took a seat right next to me on the left! His shorts seemed shorter than ever, his solid, round ass filled the shorts and made the cramped lecture seats seem even smaller than normal, the globes of flesh clearly defined through the thin material of his workout shorts. Since it was a hot day as well, I could smell the manly musk wafting off his body from his walk through campus to get to class.
when he touches me, its like theres something underneath my skin that he is trying to get out. he is snatching apart my skin to get inside and find something. i dont know what he is looking for, i dont even know if he knows what he is looking for, but he still pulls apart my skin to search for it. every day he will pull just a little bit more, making my skin thinner and thinner, getting closer to the gooey center of what he desires. i can feel him getting closer, i can feel his fingertips dancing along the very first layer of it and i feel a sense of curiosity and a sense of relief. he has found something underneath my skin and he is showing it to me as well as discovering it for himself. each layer goes faster and faster until it is dripping down his arms and pooling in his palms. he has found it. he has found everything. my skin is gone, my layers are gone; he has found my soul and he is swimming in it.
A lot of people dislike the word “queer”. They react to the implication of abnormality within its meaning. Personally I love the word. I love that it starts with a “Q”. I love that it means different from the expected or anticipated. To me, it is a celebration of rareness, of uniqueness, and of individuality.
The queerness and diversity we see within the gay community is one of its most beautiful captivating qualities. Hyper-masculinized leathermen are as queer as drag queens. Androgynous boys rocking their femme side are as queer as gym bunnies preening their physiques. Non-binary gender and sexual roles are as queer as chubs and chasers. Bears and cubs are as queer as twinks and bros. Str8-acting bi guys are as queer as showy out-and-proud queens. Cocksucking sluts are as queer as down-low total tops. Gay hipsters are as queer as hardcore fetishists. They are all queer. They are, and we are too. Each of us in our own way.
And isn’t that what we really want? To be queer in our own right and by our own self-determination? Don’t we want our soul mate to love us for the things that make us different and special and unique? Don’t we want to be able to stand in front of someone with all our peculiarities, passions and perversities exposed? Don’t we want to be loved completely and without hesitation for everything we are, or want to be, or will be?
and if I show you my dark side
will you still hold me tonight
and if I open my heart to you
and show you my weak side
what would you do?
— Pink Floyd, “The Final Cut”
Of course we do. That’s what love is. It’s not generic. It’s not a stereotype or societal conformity. It’s personal … as personal as we dare to allow ourselves to surpass our fears and open up to the love of someone—someone who sees all of us, adores us to the depths of our being, and will stand by us and support us as we explore and grow into the fullness of our self-definition.
Love can only be queerness. Let yourself be loved. Ask to be loved. Love in return. Beautiful queer men, all of you and all that each of you are inside yourselves, I love you so much.