my sex life still holds some surprises . . . i just paid a hustler i picked up in the Ramble $4 less than it would have cost me to get into the Adonis . . . how many of the bodies U see on screen there have scars they got from Golden Gloves boxing like Jose? . . . smooth Latin flesh stretched as tight as a drum over welterweight musculature . . . and the hands, oh the large manly hands that limply clasped mine when our transaction concluded . . . Mama must adore him . . . Jose insisted that i ride him back from the park on my handlebars . . . i did, eagerly, as far as my block, and not only because i wanted to press my pumping ass against his crotch as he straddled the seat and gently gripped my waist . . . but as much as i enjoyed my Butch Cassidy moment, i didn’t need my neighbors seeing me in the company of a street tough . . . even one without an erection . . . still, he didn’t waste any time as soon as we got inside my apartment . . . are u ok? he asked, for the third or fourth time . . . Jose’s bedroom eyes were much more articulate than his speech . . . while it occurred to me that he might be dangerous, i began tugging at his clothes . . . he wanted to know have u got any fresh movies? . . . did he mean flesh? . . . with women? no? how about books? . . . finally somebody would get some use out of Sappho’s Art of Loving Women, a coffee table book a deeply obtuse boss had given me! . . . but cynic that i am, i continued to believe (hope?) his often stated preference for girls was a hoax and that the hickey on his neck was homosexual . . . he insisted paging through the book but i didn’t allow it to get in the way of his gorgeous face, one that begged to be photographed by Bruce Weber . . . shave the fuzz above his full lip and make up the scar that shoots out from his right eyebrow and U would have a magazine cover boy that could launch a thousand wet dreams . . . . Jose was way cuter than Menudo, in part or in whole . . . i didn’t give two shits about my pride when he fucked my face while looking at gauzy pictures of bare breasted women discreetly embracing . . . nice book, but not good enough he commented after ejaculating a small quantity of semen on his ridged abdominals . . . it took me a little longer, but not by much . . . i went into the living room to retrieve my wallet, hidden on top of a biography of Truman Capote, out of temptation’s way . . . when Jose finished dressing, i handed him a $10 bill . . . u are worth a lot more . . . he looked at me as coldly as he could through his warm brown eyes . . . u got car fare? he demanded . . . true to form, i refused, tho if he’d asked me to give him a ride on my bicycle again, i would have, without a moment’s hesitation . . . a deal’s a deal after all.

not only did i hit bottom the other night, to use the jargon of addiction and potential recovery, but i even got some fan mail as a result: u are an excellent fisting top and i hope we can do it again soon . . . not a chance . . . i'd been putting off this guy for nearly a year, mostly because i'd heard from R that he didn’t really bring anything to the table . . . well, not exactly . . . he did bring a bag of tricks, but even that wasn’t enough . . . do u have any toys? he asked as he set his backpack down in my bedroom a half hour after i finally relented and told him to come over . . . he wasn’t really my type: too much damp hair on his head and body and not enough working out . . . but i didn’t feel like going back on line and sifting thru the same flotsam and jetsam all over again . . . let’s face it, U do reach a saturation point in AOL M4M chat rooms no matter how many times u have fine tuned your profile, particularly when U are a man of a certain age . . . so i let him stay but turned off the lights . . . hold up your hand he said as soon as we went into my bedroom . . . it looked like he wanted to play patty cake until i realized he was taking my measure . . . apparently, hands as small hands as mine with closely clipped fingernails are a big plus in FF World . . . he sucked my dick a bit to get things going before removing a Ziploc bag full of surgical gloves, a jar of lubricant and an aerosol can of head cleaner . . . what, is my dick dirty? . . . he disappeared in the bathroom with what looked to be a very large plastic syringe, like something U would use to vaccinate an elephant . . . just tell me if i’m not clean he said when he returned five minutes later, after what i suppose had been a quick enema . . . if be prepared is the motto of the Boy Scouts, then this guy certainly deserved a very special Merit Badge . . . by now i just wanted him gone so i donned one of the gloves without further ado while hoping my hand would remain free of his doodoo . . . he picked up his underwear and sprayed it with the head cleaner before holding it up to his nose and inhaling deeply (oh, i get it now: huffing) . . . i refused a snort of his briefs but did accept the bottle of poppers he offered . . . i guess i was erect but i certainly wasn’t turned on and drifted into sex zombie mode . . . one finger, two fingers, three before he warned me to take it easy . . . U won’t believe what song was playing on my mix tape when he got up on all fours for maximum penetration and his ass greedily swallowed my fist with a loud slurp: Loveholes by Everything but the Girl . . . u like that? he asked looking around as i got intimately acquainted with his rather noisy rectum . . . i avoided his glassy eyes and nodded unenthusiastically . . . his dick wasn’t even hard but he had an orgasm in a New York minute and left a large wet spot beneath his genitals on the towel i had laid down . . . yuuuuuhhhck . . . are we thru? he asked upon returning from another trip to the bathroom . . . u bet we are . . . i wonder if i would have enjoyed it more if i had been attracted to him?