I LOVE sex. I think sex is wonderful. In all of it variants and non-traditional forms. I don't place a lot of limits on my sex life, and to be quite honest with you, I am glad to be able to say , been there, done that. I think it is one giant adventure that is supposed to last a lifetime, and courtesy of viagra, it looks like it may last even beyond death. I recently watched an exceptionally elderly man with a walker walk his way into a dirty book store and thought, "You go get em, you horny old perverted coot"
On what was originally just a regular night out on the town, I ran into my buddy Boubelah. Boubelah is a funny drunken friend who is alway a part of my life, but one who was an infrequent visitor to my evenings out. He, much like the Ducat Demon never seems to come out with his own cigarettes or money to buy his own cocktails, but usually makes the night so entertaining that it makes the extra 30 bucks you spend paying his way worthwhile.
I was entertaining myself at the local leather bar in Philadelphia when in walks the Boubelah. Already shitcanned, he is ready to Party. So as usual, I buy him a vodka and club (which BTW they serve in frozen beer mugs, it makes the overall Odour du Funkybutt of the place palatable) We make casual chit chat, observe the wildlife (Bears and Otters! Foxes too, oh and one naked Mole Rat) and decide that it is getting late so we go to the old 2-4 club. I love after hours bars. You get everyone from debutantes on a cocaine bender to politicians to old fall down drunks in these joints.
Of course I roll VIP, skip the line, have all the sundry characters we have accumulated for the night in tow, pay the cover and slide onto the dancefloor. Boubelah is at the point of intoxication where he could be surrounded by a naked team of lacrosse players and he wouldn't come out of his drunken dance cloud. I start to dance with the cute nebbishy lawyer we picked up somewhere on the street. He is adorable in his dorkiness. Dark hair, blue eyes hidden behind horn rimmed glasses, button down Brooks Brothers shirt tucked into jeans with a belt, and penny loafers. He is the kind of man that makes Jewish grandmothers serve the GOOD lox on Sunday morning. He also has an ass to shoulder ratio that makes makes a giant arrow pointing to the round soccer player butt he possesses. It is enough to make any woman or gay man turn and walk into a telephone pole as they watch him walk away.
Dancing leads to grinding, grinding leads to staring into each others eyes, staring leads to that first kiss, that kiss leads to the second deeper kiss, then to a full on make out, gropefest that results in us slamming into a wall as we attempt to push, pull and thump ourselves into a tangle of limbs. Whispering in my ear he says "I want you to ride me, I want you to ride me all night" (Yes dear reader, man on man sex really is this easy)
Never one to turn down a piece of free ass, I leave Boubelah to the wolves, grab Studly Mc Dorkensteinburger by the hand and throw him into a cab. We go back to his place, where he says, make yourself at home. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I sit on the sofa, and undo the top button on my pants in preparation of what is to come. Now man sex involves some prep time, so I am not particularly distressed by the length of time he is in his bedroom, but I am starting to realise I am pretty drunk. As I gaze around his apartment, I hear a door open and close behind me. Turning my head I don't see him anywhere, and think, OK thats a bit weird, but hey maybe he was just making sure I was still here.
Around the side of the sofa he comes crawling on all fours, riding crop between his teeth (KINK-eeeh I think), with a saddle strapped to his back. A REAL saddle. Dropping the riding crop at my feet, he says"RIDE me", and he meant it. He seriously wanted me to ride him around the room. Like a cowboy.
SOooooo, I figure WTF, This SOB was brave enough to come out of his bedroom on all fours with a fucking saddle strapped to his back, this is one for history. Up I climb onto his back. There I sit, swatting his ass with the riding crop the whole time he lumbers around his living room playing cowboy. I landed a particularly hard one and he actually tried to buck me off his back (I guess he really got into it, if he drops a horse apple I am leaving though)
It turned into an exceptionally entertaining evening, and we never saw each other again. Ahhh my old lickem N stickum days, it's funny how they come back to haunt you isn't it? I don't think I ever even knew his last name, and now here he sits in the #12 position on friendfinder on facebook. What to do, what to do, I wonder if I have any oats in the kitchen?
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