"Every Letter of the Alphabet" or "The 3rd guy I had sex with that day..."

I start this chuckling as I've just read my last post. I've decided to return to this after a long while away. I never meant to go so long without detailing my experiences, but I guess they began to feel routine. It turns out there's lots to depict, but let's start with what's freshest:

I started a career on Wall street recently. It's rather exerting. I find myself needing to expel excess energy every Friday with a desperation that comes from 40+ hours spent sitting in front of a computer every week. The last Friday was no exception. In fact by 2pm I had my new favorite Brittney song playing on repeat ("Trip to Your Heart"), and I danced a little at my desk with a huge smile on my face. I could feel it was going to be a good night, particularly because my favorite drinking buddy had already committed.

We started off by seeing Thor whilst drinking vitamin water zero with kettle one (try it). It was surprisingly good as testament to the first name in the ending credits, director Kenneth Brannaugh (I didn't know this watching it - look him up if you don't know hi,). And the actor that played Thor was an image I can't describe:


Needless to say I was... inspired by the end of the film.

The next hour was spent walking 20 blocks to my favorite gay dance club Rockit. My E dealer met us half way. Hours of dancing and drinking and boys and smiles... it's just like that scene in Black Swan when Natalie Portman does E and goes dancing... only better because there's hot men every where.

Eventually my friend's boy friend meets up with us and gives us blow/C. The night is a blur until my friends leave and I flirt with men until cops bust the club at 3:30am.

I proceed to drunkly stumble around Chelsea until through the wonders of gps enabled sex apps, I find myself walking into a pitch black hotel room to be bent over by a muscle man with an 8.5 incher. Unfortunately I apparently felt very exciting to him as it was all over in 5 minutes. Damn. Still not satisfied.

I walk or stumble to the West Village to an old friends. He has guests already. I don't engage but I observe and do get fed some G, T, and a new one for me, K. At 10am I finally find someone else worth meeting via faitful Grindr. His body is like Thor's. He's Russian. Smooth. Built. A bit personable too. We go at it, it's great. Damn. Over in 5 minutes again. Am I that good? I'm not mad though because he was so hot and so sweet. I was in love. We chatted for a bit, I gave him my number... I leave obsessed... but still unsatisfied.

I get home, as I said still unsatisfied, so I utilize all technologies available to me. Around 2 I stumble on an intriguing profile. It's personable. He introduces himself a bit in his profile (mine is blank). He also doesn't have any fully naked pictures available (I do). His pics are ok, but it does say he has an 8 incher, and he insists he's a marathon fucker. I invite him over.

I open the door in schleppy clothes. This process is usually done while braising myself. You see most don't look as good in person as they do in their pictures, and since this guy's pictures weren't that good, I was a little nervous.

Holy... fuck... I'm actually frozen for a second. Speechless. This man is utterly gorgeous. His smile is beaming. I stumble to try to tell him how hot he is. He chuckles and grabs me and we start kissing.

We proceed to have the most friendly, hottest, most personable first fuck of my life. And it goes on for 4 hours straight (minus a short beer half way through). My toes curled, my smile was unrelenting (as were his thrusts)... sober on a Monday night I'm still excited. I spit out these cheesy cliche lines cause I'm still high. Basically all I can think is how I want this forever (like any proper addict).

Afterwards we walk our dogs (he lives a block away), we get dinner, and we cuddle and watch a movie. Then it hit me... when I'm high I fantasize about whoever's fucking me being my boyfriend... so I guess that's what I want.

As much as I love him (I use the word comically), I don't think it'll work out. As into me as he was (no pun intended), he was too hot not to be a player. But at least I'm left with the realization that I want a boyfriend. It took the 3rd guy I had sex with that day to show me that, as well as a few letters from the alphabet.

So how does one get a boyfriend in NYC? Any suggestions? I'm intrigued by speed dating... at the very least it should make a good blog entry.

Don't worry I'm sure I'll still do drugs and have sex with strangers so all you "friends" of mine can still laugh at me.

I love you daddy

T...

It's an interesting substance, and very prominent in the gay community. It's mad pricey. It's around $240 a gram (I've never bought it).

I was introduce to the stuff in June of 2009. I had smoked pot and taken E and done blow before this. I was at the home of a gay couple in Harlem. They were sweet, successful, and charming. They offered it to me and I thought, what the hell? I ended up getting fucked by a black guy whose name I didn't know with a 10"+ cock (back then I had fantasies of reserving bottoming only for a guy I was dating). Even on the drugs I could only take it briefly (I'm a bit more talented these days). I was up for another 36 hours after this.

It's been over a year since first trying the stuff, and I've done it a handful of times since. I don't care for it much. It's like getting really drunk. Sure it feels great briefly but the after affects suck.

One of the most recent times I tried the stuff was actually the most interesting. I was invited to the apartment of a hot looking buff guy in his 40's from one of my online hook up sites. I get to his building and it's beautiful. It's 5am on a Sunday in November and the doorman is sleeping so I see my self up. I'm greeted by the Adonis looking man in nothing but a John Deere baseball cap, camo-shorts, and a big ol' smile. He's blond, buff, and from Tennessee with an accent and all. His smile was sparkly.

We chit chat a bit as I undress. He's very directing. He has me stand in positions and pose before he even touches me. I'm relieved to discover he's a great kisser (I like a lot of lip action with minimal tongue and slobber). We take hits and shot-gun them (making out while inhaling/exhaling the smoke into each others lungs). He demands I keep fingering his nipples, NEVER pinch them though, lol.

Eventually he gets in me. We go at it for 6 or 7 hours. We were sweating, breathing heavily, hearts pounding... I start calling him daddy, he loves this. He pounds harder "I love fucking my son." Sounds so hot with his Tennessee accent.

I don't remember who said it first, but eventually the euphoria from the drugs and the crazy sex spits out of us "I love you!" lol.

Of the 200 or so guys I've slept with, it was by far the hottest. Shame I haven't seen him since.

The Naughty Underworld

There are 2 gay bars in the city that I know of that boast costumes, dim lighting, cheap drinks, porn on the tvs, and public sex. They are The Cock and The Eagle.

The Cock:
"They don’t call it the Cock for nuttin’!"

http://www.thecockbar.com/Welcome.html

This bar is in the East Village. A very old neighborhood filled with rugged men, hipsters, and the frisky tourist. The first time I came here I walked in on a random night to see a few men in the bar. A stripper was getting sucked off. As my friend and I giggled at the sight, a Japanese man that was about 60 years old reaches for my zipper and pulls down. I was amazed how instantly he found it given how dark the bar was. I started nervously laughing as I quickly pulled away, zipped up and left in a hurry. Another occasion was a big night as it was the night before the “Hustla Ball”. The bar was packed to the brim, but left enough room for 2 guys to fuck while dancing in the middle of the floor.

I’m a bit more seasoned to the scene. Last night I was wasted and walked up to a dude, asked if he was Scottish, he said he was, and then we started to make out. Yeah I took him home. I had just gotten laid an hour or two before…

The Eagle:
"The mood is dark and sleazy, and the studs are still cumming."


This bar is in Hell’s Kitchen (the neighborhood named for obvious reasons, though is up and coming). It isn’t always as seedy as The Cock. But its 2 floors plus roof top leaves lots of dark corners to get in some trouble. It's a leather and levis bar... images of masculinity and a gay fetish:

Men dress in leather gear like chaps and leather jock straps or jeans with no T-shirt. They play the hottest porn and have a skin head barber there happy to shave your head for you.

I love the dark and dirty underworld in NYC. I fucked a guy in a dark bar once. We were the stars that night… so many hands, some more welcome than others. Guys were literally trying to push me off of him so they could have at him. He was my date though so he was all mine… it was so romantic.

And that's why I’m a fuck-up:

When I was 3 I pooped my pants, left my Mickey Mouse underwear in the bathroom, and when the teacher came out with them and asked whose they were I immediately fessed up.

When I was 19 I shoplifted – a lot – and got caught.

I took 6.5 years to complete my Bachelors.

I’ve slept through 2 career/life changing interviews.

If I have no reason to wake up I’ll sleep until 2pm.

I have unprotected sex.

I’ve often slept with 2 people a day.

I sometimes do drugs (the really trashy kind), though I rarely pay for any.

I’ve had sex for money.

I’m living off my ex-boyfriend.

If I have $10 to my name I’d buy booze instead of food.

I’ve slept with 5 people within 24 hours.

I have 800 friends on facebook and can recall maybe half of who they are.

I watch the Jersey Shore.

I just applied to Starbucks.

My First Day in NYC

They say walking the Brooklyn Bridge is a right of passage for people in New York. The Brooklyn Bridge is lovely. It connects the up and coming Lower East Side with the hippest Brooklyn neighborhood – Williamsburg. On my very first day in New York I walked across the bridge – the wrong bridge. The Manhattan Bridge connects China Town and Red Hook, some not-so-nice areas of Manhattan and Brooklyn. It was March 1st of 2009, and it happened to be the most severe snow storm of the year. And of course, my coat had lost all of its buttons.

I was relying on the gps on my phone to lead me to the subway, but by the time I realized the station was not in-fact on the bridge, I was too stubborn to turn around. So I walked across the Manhattan Bridge in khakis and Calvin Klein boots (forever ruined after this expedition). Some 30 minutes later I walked through China Town. Being a vegetarian with an allergy to fish, you can imagine how unpleasant this was.

I was headed home from my first day at a temp job. In short, it sucked. If it weren’t for some awesome co-workers it would have been unbearable. My boss, as I like to describe her, seemed one of those people who was either picked on relentlessly in high school, or was completely ignored. In either case it was evident she just never got over it. She was very soft spoken, but not in an endearing way; she was manipulative, hostile, and cold. Despite this, she was remarkably comedic. She was very pear shaped like Grimace, the purple blob from McDonalds. She waddled, and she shook and twitched when she was angry or frustrated. Best of all was her terrible wig; it was never on the right way, and always had large groups of stragglers from its intended shape. When I finished my position she didn’t even want to shake my hand.

Michael:

This first month in NYC I was “subleasing” an apartment from a guy I had slept with more than once (a rare occasion in NYC). He said he was going to visit his family out west. He ended up only being gone 1 week, and stayed with me for the other 3 weeks… basically I'd been seduced into paying this guy’s rent for a month. He wasn’t even hot, and didn’t even have a big dick! I’ve avoided him since the end of the month. Oddly enough he texted me a few days ago and tried to flirt. No thanks!

That was a lesson I had to learn… people in NYC are crazy, and are good at hiding it for a good enough while to throw you for a loop. I’m a bit more cautious of people now.

A timid gay boy’s loss of innocence in NYC

New York City… it’s lively, it’s chic, it’s sexy, and it’s dirty.   Beyond the heaps of trash lining most the sidewalk, beyond the soot on every sill, there’s an energy that can seduce you to do things you never thought you would.  It turned a monogamist into a slut, and a light drinker into an occasional T smoker.  This is not the gay version of Sex and the City.  I don’t have 100 pairs of shoes, I don’t have a great job (or a job at all), I don’t have 3 friends I spend every day with, I don’t have my own apartment, and I don’t have a date every night… but I do have lots and lots of sex. 

I lost count earlier this year…but I think I’m around 150 or so now.  I’m not particularly attractive, but attractive enough that the guys I don’t want to call me do, and the ones I do want to call me don’t.

Besides the men and financial struggle, I do have some good friends here, though all of them have jobs.  It’s through them I get to experience an occasional taste of the fabulousness NYC has to offer.  They’ve taken me to roof top parties, Broadway shoes, table service at the chicest of bars (while skipping the velvet rope line), fashion shows, and even D list events (which is all rather glamorous given my humble up bringing).

It’s been 18 months since I made New York City my home.  I’ve lived several places including Hawaii, Wisconsin, Indiana, and Massachusetts, but New York is the first place that feels like home – but the type of home that’s constantly threatening condemnation, eviction, repossession, and collapse.

This blog is to help me remember my adventures here in the city.  I have forgotten much.  Besides, an unemployed gay boy needs something to do besides troll around the internet hunting for sex. :-)