Posts Tagged hookup
In the “city” I’m living in at the moment, there is one (1) gay bar. Just the one, and to be blunt it’s kinda shite. The drinks are expensive, the floor is sticky, it tends to have more than its fair share of creepy people; but the LGBT society go there, I go there sometimes, just because I feel more comfortable in LGBT*-friendly environments. I’m happy to sacrifice the atmosphere the swish fancy bar round the corner offers in favour of feeling safe somewhere.
In this bar there works a twink whose name is the same as mine. It’s not a very common name (I’ve only met three other people with it) and to make matters weirder, he uses the same nickname I do. I’ve spoken to him maybe once, other than to order drinks, months ago when I was blind drunk. Yesterday he popped up on Grindr to say “nice name,” and we got talking a little bit; today he asked what I was doing tonight and I didn’t have any plans at the time, so he invited me over to his for some fun. It turns out he lives in the house above the bar (handy that, very central too) which is closed today, so I went over before I met some friends for dinner in the centre.
He was a few centimetres shorter than me and slim but toned, brown hair and, the cherry on top, big brown eyes. I started out going down on him but after a few minutes he pulled me up and took me in his mouth from below, and quite well too; we rolled rolled to the other side of the bed so I was on my back and he kept going, and it was at that point I noticed the rather large mirror leaning on the wardrobe giving me an excellent view of what was going on. I’ve only seen myself having sex in the mirror once before but I do quite like it because, narcissist that I am, I like the look of my naked body.
After a bit more rolling and sucking I asked him if he had a condom; he did, he put it on and straddled him as he fucked me (the boyfriend and I have been experimenting with various positions to see which one is easiest for me to bottom from and that seems to be the one). Once he got going he came fairly quickly, and stayed inside me and kissed me as I finished myself off on his chest.
As far as sex with a random stranger goes, it was really quite good, easily 8 out of ten. I’ve sent him a follow-up message on Grindr to let him know I’d be up for doing it again or making it regular; he seemed quite reluctant about seeing me again as I was leaving though so I don’t have too high hopes, but we’ll see.
I’m having a bit of what I think is an interesting conversation with myself in my head right now and I’ve not reached any conclusion yet; so maybe this post won’t have a conclusion either but it might help me get my head in order a little bit. Yesterday I was talking to a pretty boy on grindr (I’m not using “pretty boy” as a pejorative here), who as it turned out lives a couple of hundred kilometres away; when I said it was a shame he was so far away, he wrote back that “you just want to bend me over,” which is true, I did. But it occurred to me that until that point I had no idea whether he was top, bottom, versatile, what he was into at all – I just wanted to sleep with him because he was pretty and hadn’t put any thought into what it would be like or who would be doing what to whom.
Is this the difference between a more mature and a less mature approach to sex? “How much am I going to enjoy this?” as a key thought before jumping into bed with someone rather than “Pretty. Want.”? Not that it’s exclusively the latter that I’ve always taken into consideration, but more often than not it is. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy one-nighters, of course I do, that’s why I do them. I just wonder whether I might enjoy them a bit more if I put more thought into them beforehand. The number of people I’m sleeping with would likely drop – not that it hasn’t recently, living in this shitty city that I resent; would that necessarily be a bad thing?
Actually yes, I think it would. I’m not under any illusions, I know that most of my sexual encounters aren’t substantial and they’re not intended to be, and I’m fine with that. Just because it’s neither explorative, boundary-pushing sex nor sex intended to be built upon into something other people might view as a worthwhile relationship doesn’t mean it isn’t valid, isn’t worthwhile, isn’t fun and can’t be learned from.
Well, I think I’ve settled this debate in my own head at least (don’t you often find writing things down helps?), that was easier than expected. Any of you have any thoughts on this?
Not relevant at all but this is my 100th post on this blog!!! Thank you so much to everyone who reads it, whether you’ve been here since day one or today is your first day reading. A special thanks also to Sparkles, Purple and Lady in Red for coming up with the idea in the first place and encouraging me to start this!
When the Boyfriend and I first got together and had just discussed the ground rules and parameters of how open our relationship would be, he mentioned it to a couple and friends and relatives of his, at least two of whom expressed the same concern: that it was all well and good for me to be okay about myself sleeping with other people, but that I might feel differently about things when the Boyfriend went and did the same.
To be honest it was a concern that hadn’t occurred to me, but when he mentioned it to me I realised that it was a valid once since in most if not all of my previous relationships – granted, the last one ended in August 2011 and I’d like to think I’ve grown a great deal since then – I have been a jealous lover. So I told him that when he hooked up with someone else, if I did react badly to it, we’d sit down and talk about it and reassess what our arrangement is – fairly reasonable, no? We both thought so anyway.
He came over this weekend – I was only gone for a week, stressful ferry journey back but very good and inspiring week away – and before he did so told me he had some “weird news” for me; when he got here (with his brother who was visiting him for the weekend) I asked what that news would be and it was his brother who told me that the Boyfriend had indeed hooked up with someone else the previous night when they were out. I was a bit taken aback, because it wasn’t what I had expected to hear (there’s a bit of an odd situation involving his ex and someone else we know going on so I’d expected it to be about that but apparently we’ve moved on from there) .
We didn’t really go into the details there in the kitchen – I’m sure his brother wouldn’t have wanted to know all the gory details anyway – but I brought it up during our pillow talk that night. I asked him what had happened and how it was, which I’m not going to go into here because it’s not my story to tell; and then we spoke about how I felt about it. I can honestly say I was actually quite happy about the whole thing, which even surprised me a little bit. There were two or three main reasons for this, the main one being that I no longer had to worry about my reacting badly to it, like his friends had worried I might, since that had been in the back of my mind; it means that the relationship is more in-balance, since me sleeping with other people when he hasn’t been could have caused resentment and a sense of unfairness; and also, I think it’ll have done his self esteem very good, which makes him happier and in turn makes me happier to. When we were first discussing these things he rather self-deprecatingly said that it didn’t matter too much since he only had “a theoretical chance at casual sex anyway,” which I disagreed with, but now he knows that’s not true.
So everyone’s a winner – he got some sex while I was gone, whoever this other guy is (he doesn’t know his name) got some too, I’m happier about or relationship and the Boyfriend seems to be as well. I don’t think we could ask for a better outcome to your partner hooking up with someone else!
How I managed to hook up with randoms before I got grindr is beyond me, really. Over the last three weeks or so I’ve hooked up with three guys from there – one, who I’ve seen twice now, I’ll probably see again, and two who for different reasons, I almost certainly won’t. Granted, this isn’t a lot, but still it’s nice to have the odd bit of fun during the week. Today, since it’s freshest in my memory and really only the only non-“he turned up, we fucked, he left” type story, I’ll tell you all about last night.
On Monday afternoon a guy sent me a message saying he was in town for work, they were putting him up in a hotel and did I fancy joining him. By the time the prerequisite exchange of photos and information had taken place, I’d missed the last bus to the centre and didn’t fancy a three-quarters of an hour long walk in the cold (it was -3 Celsius!). So we agreed on the following night instead and swapped phone numbers to arrange things. On Tuesday night, then, I met him in the city centre to go back to his hotel.
As it turns out he’s in a management training scheme for a certain well-known fruit based technology company and, as one would expect, they treat their staff very well. En-suite in the fanciest hotel on the central square in town? Don’t mind if I do. The guy was cute, too, tall, vaguely Celtic-looking (black hair, very blue eyes) despite not being from anywhere near anywhere Celtic. Actually he’s from the same place as The Boyfriend, weird that. Anyway, I had handily brought along my handy little box of condoms and lube since his supplies were limited and, after sneaking past the restaurant where his colleagues were having dinner, we got to the bedroom and onto the exceptionally comfy king sized bed. He seemed to have this thing about using his tongue more or less all over, which was fun but when you’re as ticklish as I am it can lead to bouts of hysteria quite easily. Then he suited up, so to speak (by which I mean put on a condom), lubed me up and off he went.
We changed position a few times but after a while I got a bit bored and we stopped that – but then he asked me to fuck him instead, which was a chance I jumped at since that’s quite a rare treat these days. We started off with him on his front, flat on the bed since that’s what works best for him starting out (and apparently he hadn’t bottomed since September), before I flipped him round to his back and fucked him with his legs wrapped round my hips. He came first over his own stomach and I came a few seconds after, then collapsed panting onto the bed.
After a quick bath to get all the lube, cum, and whatever other sticky stuff gets all over the place when two males have sex off, we went back to the cloudlike bed (it really was amazing) and during some small talk it transpired he was also training in massage, which I took full advantage of. He remarked – and it’s true, Magenta will tell you – that it sounds more like I’m having sex when I’m getting a massage than when I’m having sex (and I’m fairly vocal anyway!). That led to him stroking my dick through my underwear again which just set us both off, and so I sucked him until he came – didn’t seem to take as long the second time round, come to think of it, strange – and then finished myself off as he was recovering.
By this point there was no point in me trying to catch a bus back to mine because there are none by that time of night, so I got to stay over in the fancy bed. He went to spoon me at one point but I pushed him away – “no cuddles” to which he shrugged and said that was fair – and went to sleep. He had to get up early (well, I say early, eight in the morning) so I got up at the same time and left, slipping past the receptionists on my way out so as to save him any embarrassment with the expenses, and caught the bus home to get ready for uni. My bus drove past a coursemate on the way who spotted me and waved, which would have maybe been embarrassing under normal circumstances but given that he only just borrowed my copy of the Ethical Slut last week I sent him a text to tell him I was doing the walk of shame. “I think you mean the bus journey of triumph. Sex positive!” was his fantastic response, so I feel like I’ve educated someone a little. Also, there might be something to be said for getting up early like that, I’ve had an incredibly productive day!
At the start of my final year of undergrad, the week before classes began, Tigger and her then-boyfriend and I, along with a couple of others whose names and faces I can’t even remember, went to one of the big rock and metal clubs in the city we were living in. It’s not my typical club, really, I tend to go more or less exclusively to gay bars – probably one of the reasons I’ve slept with far more many males than females – but I really do enjoy a good night out at a rock club. It’s the heteronormative environment I feel safest in, I think partly because it isn’t particularly mainstream so there tends to be a bit more acceptance there than in other places. And the music is good (generally), so what’s not to like?
Early on in the night a guy on the dancefloor caught my eye. Short, but as it turns out my age, floppy brown hair and small brown eyes, which come a close second to big brown eyes for me. We sort of smiled at each other a bit, unseen by my group of friends at least, then I lost sight of him in the crowd for a while. I was casting my eyes around looking to see if there was anyone else worth chatting up when I realised that his group of friends had reappeared next to ours, and he was there. He caught my eye again, he winked (I wish I could wink, I look insane when I try so I gave up on that a while back on the advice of some friends), and I smiled; he nodded his head to the side, indicating away from our respective groups of friends; and we came together and kissed. The people I was with found this baffling and impressive in equal measure, as they had no idea I’d even spotted someone so to them the whole thing looked totally improvised and spontaneous. Anyway, a few minutes of quite intense making out pressed up against a wall (me, not him), we left to go back to his.
As it turns out he lived on the same street as the big gay club in town anyway. I remember thinking, I’ll never get away from this place, my nights out will always start or end here. And come to think of it, I think they always did, until the very end of my time in that town. Anyway! We got back to his, to the bed, and somewhere amongst groping hands and writhing libs our clothes came off and I found myself on my back with him sucking on my neck. I actually really like having my neck licked, I think everyone does but it really drives me wild. He seemed to really like doing it, he was down there for ages though I never thought anything of it at the time. We got down to the sex – him on top, didn’t last long, was fun though.
Afterwards I went to the bathroom and then I came back the room was lit up with the blue glow of the TV. “I’ve put on a DVD to help us get going for round two,” he said. Brilliant!, I thought, watch some porn to get us in the mood and go again.
He had put on Vampire Diaries. What the hell? You have to be kidding. “This… is what turns you on?”
“Yep, the blood and the biting, it’s so sexy.”
I left. I can’t even remember what my pretext was, I think I might have been “working in the morning” or something, but I was out of there like a bullet. Each to their own, but really, anyone with vampire fantasies isn’t someone I want to be in bed with, I don’t fancy getting some sort of blood-borne disease in the bedroom, thanks. It also clicked on my long walk home that that was probably why he had spent so much time around my neck and sure enough the next day there were marks. Not your standard sort of hickeys or lovebites, oh no. It looked like a birthmark or something. One of my tutors even asked, in all seriousness, if I’d been in a car accident, and they took weeks to heal.
I realise I’m no longer writing Flashback Fridays very regularly, nor am I doing them in chronological order. For the OCD among you I apologise, I’m basically just writing about whatever I feel like that day. This week I booked a flight to go back to this place in January for a week, so I’ve been reminiscing about this time.
Because I did a degree in two foreign languages and my university was really good about these things, we got to go abroad twice; a year in one country and half a semester in another in our penultimate year (and the degree therefore takes an eternity to do). In my fourth year, then, I was sent to a popular European capital to do a language course there.
Before I went I did some extensive google work, which took me to the page of a chef called B, whose food looked good and who was also pretty easy on the eyes, so I put myself on his mailing list. As luck would have it, three or four days after I arrived he had a dinner event planned, so I signed myself up and off I went.
At the dinner I met and befriended an American girl who it turned out was actually a very good friend of B’s and even lived in the flat next door. We got talking and she invited me out with her later that week to go to a huge flea market (better than it sounds, I promise), and in the event, B turned up as well. That was also the day I met Magenta. The four of us had dinner together and decided to watch a movie, and did so all spread out on B’s huge bed to watch it projected onto the wall. Magenta and B’s neighbour, about five minutes into the film, decided that they needed to go and get something from the flat next door – whether they actually needed something or it was just a ruse to get us alone together I’m not sure – and off they went leaving B and I alone on the bed. This was shortly before I became the much more outgoing and confident person that I am today, so while there was some intense eye contact going on it was down to B to make the first move. “You have really beautiful eyes. May I kiss you?” (Yep, literally “May I”).
Of course I nodded and so it started, and a few minutes later we were interrupted by the others coming back. I later discovered they’d come back slightly earlier but heard something going on so hid in the bathroom and then decided to come out loudly to let us know they were back and then leave again quickly; this worked and B and I spent the night together. The next day he invited me to another event he was having that weekend, and again, I stayed the night. Before I knew it we were sleeping together more nights than not and we were definitely becoming a couple despite his being a far from good kisser.
Things lasted a surprisingly long time between us, about five months or so, including a romantic weekend away at a castle hotel, trips to the beach, and copious amounts of cake. He was the first guy I bottomed for – he wouldn’t let anthing near his ass – and the first same-sex romantic interest I’ve never had that actually amounted . We eventually split up when I moved away to yet another country for a while (we did attempt to do the long distance thing briefly but it was never going to work, largely because I was having sex with other people and lying to him about it). That’s a story for next week, though.