blackgay

In The Desperate Hour

Oblivious. That’s what I was the first time I let him climb my back. I wasn’t aware of his commitment to another man. Why would I? I didn’t know his name. I was in a hotel in a big city  belly empty backside on fire for something Black and tall. He was number four of six that night.

A few months later over Thai in a dimly lit restaurant he says “I thought you were stupid but attractive. I thought you were a hoe and I’d never see you again.” I think it baffled him that he had a crush on a harlot. By this time he had mentioned his live in boyfriend it was massaged on me that they were at the end of their relationship. Their commitment was only in name because they shared a lease. What-the-fuck-ever: I could not care less; I had already fucked him. As I ate my green curry, he talked about casually dating me after they ended. Maybe after he gave himself some time to self evaluate and heal.

I enjoyed my free meal.

By all means he is a nice guy. Said he only stepped out on his old man after they stopped having sex. Rejection is a hard thing to take from someone you share a home with especially when there are others that are willing to do what your partner won’t. We did a couple cool things platonic friends would do together: worked out at La Fitness, watched the VMAs together, and a midnight diner run or two.

At some point while they were still leaving together, but may or may have not been a couple, he invited me over. I know it was to fuck so I drunk some darks hoping I could be tipsy while it went down. I was was extremely uncomfortable in his place. I’m always sorta awkward it’s just in my nature, however; I felt I shouldn’t have really been in their space. Although they were no longer a couple, I think, or maybe just not happy, they were co-habitating.

I stood. He told me I could take a seat on the living room couch. I was like some new born child not knowing where to go or where exactly where to sit or how to do gracefully. I plopped next to the arm of the couch holding on to it like some security blanket. He tried to make me feel comfortable but I had to go to my car because I left my charger. Really? I had to go take a shot of a mini I had in the glove compartment. I thought I’d take one, but I took two.

When I came back in I told myself I’d be this aggressive power bottom and take control. I made sure he knew what I came for by throwing my ass in his face. First he ate my ass on the couch then he took me to a their spare bedroom.  I recall him saying he wouldn’t be that trifling as to take me into their actual marital like bed.

In the spare bedroom as we were having sex he says, “tell me you love me.” I obliged. And while he said afterward it made the sex better; I thought to myself: how desperate can one person be.

But I remember a similar situation when I said it during sex only months early with someone in an attempt to make a connection — to make the sex better. In that moment as well, I said to myself “how desperate can I be?”

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10 Dating Tips from a Queer Non-Expert

I’m no dating expert; I’m just someone who has fucked up a lot and learned some shit along the way. Of course my cabinet memebers and I call joint sessions to brainstorm on the ideals of dating. So I annoyingly asked some of my most boisterous friends to text me a few dating tips. They were pretty harsh until I explained it was for the blog then their ideas became generalized, but still ouch.  So below are ten dating tips I compiled from the sound advice of the judies.

 

**Advice followed by Instagram handles**

10) Give a compliment. — Me @pattonthequeercurator

Guys, compliments go a long way and not only about appearance but about someone’s ambitions. Sometime ago, I attempted to rekindle romance with an old flame. We talked about what we had both been up to in our time away. I mentioned this here blog. He rolled his eyes. He laughed. Uttered “it must be boring.” Compliments are a good corner stone they are positive reinforcement, they show attentiveness, and it shows support. Now I have no stick up my ass. I can tease and crack jokes with the best of them, but my motto is let the compliment come before the punchline.

9) Once you find you are attracted to a guy, let the body daze simmer down. Find out if he has substance. @geniusthesecond

We are all guilty of dating people we are attracted too (I think it’s a good guilt), but don’t let the lust of the flesh have you thinking you are in love. That doesn’t mean stop dating the guy with a six pack or them thick thighs you like or the pretty feet. Just know he may only be good for dating and that is fine.

8) Treat every person like a new person. @royalprinceja

Look bag lady (looks in mirror) let that shit go. Someone can help you to unpack your bags, but they don’t want to be buried by the filth they helped you out out. This isn’t solely about treating each potential man differently from one another. We tend to think we only carry dating baggage from one relationship to the next. However, we tend to do that with work issues, parental issues, and issues with friends.

I knew I wasn’t ready to date. I told my friends over brunch. I told them it was because I wasn’t settled in life. I wasn’t where I thought I should be at 26. I told them it was about money. I thought it was about money. Turned out I had demons — by the bucket load.

7) Open up and allow yourself to be vulnerable. @alaphunkee

Now, I don’t condone lying your burdens down over your first visit to Dunkin Donuts or pleading your wishes for monogamy and matrmoney during the first dinner date.

Think of it this way — even Kanye opens up.

kanye-son-feel-purpose__oPt

6) Give the person your undivided attention. @kelz_dabest

Like many in the tribe of gay, I have a friend that was first a potential. In one of our first encounters after jack’d and then randomly seeing each other in the club was him coming to my place. He stayed on jack’d. I decided we’d be friends then and there.

5) Wear something tight and don’t fuck on the first date. @hostalmalure

It’s cute: that progressive flag, that liberal banner, that mantra of “we can have sex on the first date cause we are grown.” I have had relationships end when I’ve been plucked on the first night and I’ve had them end when I’ve waited. However, the point is men are most interested when you hold out. Where you interested in Christmas 2016 on the 26th or were you interested in New Year’s Eve?

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4) Netflix & Chill isn’t a date. @_justbliquor

FIRST OF ALL actually go on a date. My petpeeve is someone asking me out without saying the word ‘date’ when its been made clear through hundreds of sent and recieved text messages that we are interested in each other as more than friends. Even if it’s not a Netflix & Chill, it wouldn’t kill a man to say “Lets go on a date. How do drinks sound?” Instead of “Lets hang out lets gt a drink.” There is nothing wrong with actually asking or suggesting an actual date. Some may think I am presenting symantics, but word choice is powerful.

3) If you were the person to ask said other person out on the date pay. @mrdblack11

This involves some ciritical thinking skills: don’t ask anyone out on a date when you are broke and don’t ask anyone out that has an objective to suggest somewhere out of your league or maybe out of theirs.

I believe in simple dates to start smoothies and bike ride or walk or indoor rock climbing or a cooking class all things that can be done for less than $30 together. If you can’t afford to lose out on $30 dollars cause you don’t end up liking the person then you have no business dating; you need to be working.

2) If you are dating make it clear to the others they are not the only one you are d-a-t-I-n-g. –My Mama.

Yes, my mama did text it to me just like that. Don’t get your ass beat or break someone’s heart making them feel like they are the only one you are seeing. Dating around is fine. Honesty is a requirement.

Dating can be just that honest, fun, and respectful. Everlasting agape love doesn’t have to develop out of a date sometimes it’s just an experience and let it be a good one.

1) Don’t force it. –Me, again

Chemistry: you got it or you don’t go it.

Before the HIV: A Lie Pt 2 (And My First Time Raw)

There was six people that had to be 30 and older, maybe two in their 40s. They looked clean cut, well put together, as if they would be in pinstripes, polka dot red and white bow ties, suspenders and slacks if this this were 9 a.m. instead of 9 p.m. Instead I was greeting men at least 15 years my senior, all brown to dark skin, fit: ranging from bulging muscles to cut physiques, the least amazing of the bunch still had bodies that were tapered with definition in their “Wifey, I’m going to play spades with the boys” sweat pants, slides, t-shirts, and kicks. They all hovered around the height 5’10’’-6’1’’. The most distinctive feature about these men were their hair styles — no two had the same. There were ceasars, bald fades, twist, salt and pepper, receding, and dreads.

 

I met the host a youth pastor, at a place of worship. Before this foray into group sex, my first might I add, we had sex twice. He stayed in these nice apartments by Stonecrest Mall in the suburban Atlanta area. I don’t remember the sex, but I remember him. Comparing him to the gentleman in the group session, I remember he was the thickest, but he still had a nice body, a tattoo on his upper right arm — some tribal band, a beard, and he had a peculiar smell. It wasn’t a bad scent, just one I could never put my nose on and I haven’t smelled it since.

 

His invitation to the group session wasn’t smooth– he wanted to feel me out. He asked a 101 questions about what I would and wouldn’t be willing to do. Watching him flap his gums was like watching Tom trying to catch Jerry — strategic, but a mess and like a Tom and Jerry cartoon I couldn’t hear him say a word, not really, not until he mentioned “sex party”. 

wasn’t the first to enter the stylish apartment. Little did I know it was the standard Atlanta gay decor: a Marilyn Monroe portrait, brown and orange color scheme, and too many living room accessories — jars of marbles, vases with sticks, and more throw pillows than my four aunts have. On the couch was the man with dreads, a toilet flushed and one with salt and pepper walked out of the guest bathroom, and two more guys were sitting on the bed fully clothed. The host made me some vodka concoction. I felt awkward, but horny as hell. I had to think of graveyards in order to keep my dick from getting stiff. I didn’t want them to know I was some young punk overly excited and precumming on my black boxer briefs. As I sat on the couch, the man with the dreads was the first to speak to me and the first to touch my body. I went from thinking of graveyards to thinking of dead bodies, then the dead bodies turned into zombies, then the zombies had nice bodies and then one zombie with a banging body only half decayed started kissing on another zombie with a fat ass; one digitally penetrated the other and his ring finger broke off in his ass. Zombies — go figure. There was no way, I couldn’t stay soft to save my life; so, I scouted off the couch trying to hid my erections. I quickly walked into the bathroom to pee and adjust myself.

navy-suit-black-model

After two more drinks, everyone crowded into the guest bedroom. There were candles lit, two pillows, and less than 200 thread count bed sheet. We stripped off our clothes. Brothers were kissing, slurping, sucking, tonguing holes. One guy with a frat tattoo on his arm began trying to find my sphincter with his tongue. With his tongue in my ass, he pushed my hips towards the bed and with the pressure of one hand on my back he used his strong bicep to force me down in doggy style as he continued to eat me. While it felt good, I was also preoccupied with the thoughts of what everyone else was doing. He couldn’t have got me into a position where I could be ate and have full view of the room? As I got up, fully intending to sit on his face so I could see everyone, he moved on to the brother with dreads. He dropped to his knees and used the tip of his tongue to flick his balls sack like he was flicking the light switch off and on. Mr. Salt and Pepper was already getting the business end of the only guy who looked like he was barely in his 30s. He was grinding and creating a circle with his hips as he penetrated the younger guy with black du-rag and hazel eyes. It seemed for a minute everyone was watching them, even the ones sucking dick had their eyes on them with a dick in their mouth.

 

Fifteen minutes later, I had only involved myself in oral sex with the taste of pre-cum on my lips to prove it. The two guys that were in the bedroom earlier, when I just entered the apartment, were on the floor. The yellow bone with slightly reddish brown hair was pounding away at his dark skin counterpart. Later I learned they were a couple. The dark skin one on the bottom, had to have the best body there, but he moaned like a female with his legs wrapped around the back of his lover. He squirmed and bucked so much I swear he got a carpet burn.

And in an instant, there was me: face pressed against the luke warm off-white wall. The youth pastor holding me against it with his right forearm as he took his left hand around my body to play with my nipples. The guy with dreads lubed my ass and put a condom on the youth pastor. He fucked me against the wall with his stout dick as I practiced lamaze breathing techniques. He got off of me after a while. Then I felt these things on my shoulder, they tickled and smelled of mango. The handsome brother: brown skin, pink lips, piercing half crescent eyes, slipped himself inside of me as if it were his turn to try a pair of new jeans on in the fitting room of H&M. After making me feel like a real bitch against that wall entering and exiting my body with his warm lips kissing my neck he pulled out and I just had to see his face. I turned around to see his strong cheekbones and his raw dick glistening with my juices and lube on it.

 

A week after Tin Lizzies on a cool night, where you can’t see the stars because the Atlanta skyline is so bright, I carefully stopped bouncing on my toes, stopping myself from riding Hank’s dick. I could feel his cum seeping out of me and his dick glistened like the dred head from 9 years ago.

 

That night, as I got hope I looked at my phone. There was a text message from Hank.

 

Hank: Are you negative?

 

Me: Yes.

 

Hank: Good. I am too.


That night I went to bed a lair.

Coerced Confessions

I drank more, perhaps too much. As I laid on my side, spooning and then tossed on my stomach, I started to feel dick up in me. Marcus was fucking me. Perhaps it felt good or perhaps I’m used to being taking advantage of even after I’ve said no or perhaps we can blame it on the liquor. Four hours into the new year and I had been deflowered already. If I would have conducted the research for this article before attempting abstinence, I would have known “In the Middle Ages, the Decretum Gratiani stated that: ‘neither a wife may make a vow of abstinence without the consent of her husband, not the husband without the consent of his wife.”

coreced

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