thanks as always, guys

so today, in sore need of a little no-questions-asked comfort, i turned to a couple old friends who've never let me down.

we met seven years ago during a cock-hunt from which they emerged the clear winners; while they couldn't hold a candle lookswise to some of the guys i sleep with routinely, their simple, unselfconscious cum-drenched enthusiasm won me over in a way that all the pretty boys in the world could never on their best day do.

they disappeared from my life for awhile; when i finally tracked 'em down, i made sure that this time they'd never get away from me again.  i gotta admit i myself have turned to other, lesser guys from time to time, but i always come back.  they don't mind; they never ask or expect anything of me--they just give without question.

decision made, the anticipation alone was enough to get me excited; by the time they made their actual appearance, i was hard and ready.  we fell into the practiced three-way dance we had shared so many times; i matched 'em stroke for stroke, coming close when one did and backing off, and then edging myself to near-climax with the other.  in the end, not able to hold it back any longer, we all came precisely together just as we always had, and then fell back, happy and spent.

as i wiped myself off, i wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to experience with a real human what i do with two guys who exist only in a 14-minute, 32-second video clip on my computer.

who knows, maybe one of these days i'll find out.  but i'm not holding my breath.

a little guttermorality post-debate analysis

i didn't watch the presidential debate last night; i never watch presidential debates.

ok, that's not strictly true--i did watch all of the mccain debates, on the off-chance that one of his opponents would say something sufficiently incendiary to send the good senator flying across the podium at him.  sadly, that didn't happen.

i didn't watch the debate last night because i knew it would tell me nothing i didn't already know about these two candidates.  there would be nothing spontaneous about the evening, because these are careful, disciplined, tightly-controlled men--perhaps the only thing they have in common.

but watching the aftermath today, i gotta say it's fascinating to see the left start to wake up to the reality i recognized about their messiah long ago.  basically, what you had last night was a grown-up version of the high-school valedictorian going head-to-head in a battle of wits with jeff spicoli, and apparently it wasn't pretty.

but, of course, before acceptance must come denial:

chris matthews opines with spittle flying that mr. obama just needs to get up to speed by watching more MSNBC, and he'll be fine.

bob woodward explains the president's poor performance by theorizing he must've been preoccupied with some weighty foreign-policy issue that prevented his full engagement.

but my favorite by far, from the aptly named charles blow--a new york times columnist, no less:

yeah, that's it, mr. blow--it's all part of his brilliant master plan.

the truth which is suddenly dawning, gentlemen--and which has been out there all along for anyone willing to look beyond the hype--is that your guy really isn't very engaged, very strong, or very smart.

(but in his defense, even cicero woulda had trouble debating his way outta the mess that obama has made of his presidency--that is a defense, right?)

will i watch the next debate?  oh yeah--there's blood in the water now, the pressure is on, and the potential entertainment value high.  perhaps an overly-smug mitt will stumble; or perhaps the president will surprise us, but i don't see how--i mean, how can you possibly hope to ace next week's SAT when you've only spent five minutes in each grade between kindergarten and high school?

my name for it is "gay stockholm syndrome"

he is that rarest of creatures on adam:  an underseller.  he lists his true age even though he could easily pass for years younger, posts nondescript photos that belie the true beauty of his body and face, and his simple description gives no indication of his accomplishments and charm.

the first time i saw that smile in person, i was so immediately bowled over that i picked him up, carried him off to his bedroom and did him semi-clothed.  it was hurried and hot, made all the more urgent by the knowledge that his boyfriend could come home at any time (they had an arrangement, he told me, but apparently it hadn't been tested).

in the two years since, we had managed to meet a couple times under similar circumstances, but saturday night was the first time he had come to my place, thus giving us time for both our first leisurely fuck and the long-delayed post-coital interview.

i led with the standard "tell me about your first time" question.  it had happened, he told me, when he was 24, fresh outta grad school, with his new weho roommate.

what he told me next would've shocked me back when i first started asking such questions; it doesn't anymore.

"he fucked me raw for a month before he told me he was positive," he said with a wry smile.

"what happened next?", i asked, although i already had a pretty good idea.

"oh, we were together for four years."

i don't care what you're hearing out there--a lot of our kind really aren't handling this disease very well.