On the mend

After 3 days of intense pain and vicodin induced stupors followed by bodily horrors too bizarre and repugnant to repeat (anyone who's had a kidney stone knows what I'm talking about) I finally got to a point where I could sleep soundly...roughly 15 hours a day. Somewhere in between my nighly slumber, my daily naps, as well as my naps between naps, the long ranger started getting restless. Even though I didn't feel 100%, I decided to try it out and went online. I got hit up by a 29-year-old good looking Latin guy who had a thuggish quality, even though he was a paralegal by profession. He said he was a top but just wanted to hang out and maybe suck me. He was really hot looking in his pics, and I'm VERY adverse to oral. But because of my condition, I thought I might not be able to perform anyway, so it might be cool just to hang out. He ended up coming over during his lunch break, and just because I was in a "fuck it" mood, I answered the door in sweats and no shirt. He liked what he saw and came in smiling. I didn't know what was gonna happen, but he started stroking my chest, then my dick, which made me pop a boner pretty quickly. We ended up back in my bedroom and he pulled out his dick, which was massive; at least as big as me, but much thicker. He pulled my dick out and started sucking it which was something. Not great, but hey, I hadn't had sex in about a week at this point, so I went with it. Even though he was deep-throating my 8incher pretty well and jerking me to try to make me cum, it wasn't gonna happen. So, I finally coaxed him up to get his pants off. He hesitated, but I said, "hey man, I just want to suck a little bit now." So, he took his pants off, and I immediately went behind him to suck his hole. He moved away, but I was persistent and said, "just let me suck it man, you can stroke if you want. You'll enjoy it." He finally relaxed a little so I could get my tongue inside him. At this point, little by little he bent over so I could get my tongue in deeper. Finally, he was bent over the bed with his ass in the air for me. What he didn't know was that I had saddled up and lubed up my dick with the spit that was falling from his hole. In one quick motion I got up and put my dick in his VERY relaxed hole and popped the head in. He jerked and said annoyed, "Dude, I said I wasn't going to get fucked!" I grabbed his shoulder and held my dick inside him, steady, throbbing, but not pushing it in any further and said, "don't worry, we're not gonna fuck. You liked my tongue in there so I'm just rubbing your hole with my dick in and out a little. Go ahead and jack off. I'll stop as soon as you cum." He took the bait and started jacking off wildly while I just very gently throbbed my dick, only about a quarter inside him tho. Then, I sensed he was getting close because his hole was throbbing then releasing. Right at this point I slid my whole cock in him and started pounding his hole. He grunted and moaned, but never stopped jacking himself. It took me about 20 seconds, and then I started shooting my load while hammering that "Top" dude's ass, now turned into my own personal boy-pussy. Sensing this wasn't going to be a very tender moment, I pulled out and very casually wiped up, looking down at my bed to see if he had cum (he did, so no harm no foul). The air was very tense and he picked up his clothes and got dressed, then exited. Afterwards, I felt pretty cocky (I LOVE fucking "tops") and got some lunch. When I returned to check my messages, he hit me up online:

HIM: not cool
ME: what? you came all over my bed man. pretty sure you enjoyed it
HIM: I tol you I didn't want to get fucked fool!
ME: so why did you let me do it?
HIM: I shouldn't of.
ME: well, you came dude
HIM: it hurt! you fucked me too hard motherfucker!

Usually, with all my satisfied customers, I don't trip on the VERY few (and I mean really few) unsatisfied ones. Anyway, I guess Karma is a bitch. Later that day I had a very awkward and unpleasant dinner with a very good friend of mine. Here's the long story short: we used to date, and I had sex with her twice (yes her)about 6 years ago but we decided we should just be friends. Since I got back from Europe, she dumped her boyfriend (I'm theorizing here) most likely because she thinks there may be hope for us. Over the last 6 years, we've been pretty close, but I've always kept her at arms length whenever I thought she was crossing the line. Well, tonite she took me to my belated birthday dinner and nearly poll-vaulted over the line. She nearly promised me to commit to a "weekend away" with her. I didn't tell her no, but was being purposely evasive. Then she invited herself back to my place, and no excuse would work with her. Even when I told her my kidneys were still not in the best shape for a prolonged evening, she volunteered to "put me to bed". At this point, I told her straight up (hah!) that I really just needed to get some sleep and wasn't in the mood for company. She finally got the hint, and we said good night. Her biological clock is definitely ticking and she sees me as grade-A baby-batter. So, I might just end up losing one of my closest friends for the last 6 years. Yup...Karma.

Life Events...

It's been a couple weeks since I've been able to post here, and mostly because I've had those major life events going on: 1. I left my mediocre job on the same day that 2) I started my new job (which I love 3) I I moved from my old house into my new one (that's a story) and 4) I put my old house on the market, and this is giving me nothing but grief...but manageable grief.

So, my quick moving story is this: 4 friends of mine had offered to help me move, which would have been more than enough. I got all my "ducks in a row" and got the cable guy for the new place, the rug guys for my old place, the rental truck etc all set up for the move. The day before, I got a call from my friend (soon-to-be former friend) "Ox", as in "strong as an). Ox is a very big/buffed guy from Nicaragua, who has a very laid-back and low-key demeanor (he'll fall asleep on you in mid-sentence if you're in a car together). But for the most part a good guy and reliable (he came to visit me in the UK when I was living there a few years back). Ox said, "what time do you need me there tomorrow?" Since Ox lives in SF and doesn't have a car, I told him another friend of mine would be passing thru SF to pick him up and that I'd take him home that eve. He said, "Cool. then we can finish moving stuff from my place to my Mom's house." I was kinda caught off guard and asked, "How big is the stuff and how much?" "Just a couple of big things and a few small boxes. We could do it in one trip" he replied. "That's fine, but they'd need to fit in my car, cuz I only have the truck for the afternoon until 5pm" I said. Ox got very quiet and then said, "Ah. OK. I'll work it out. I'm going to get on the train now so I'll call you later." then he hung up. I started to think that maybe I could try to extend the truck rental, but then I remembered they also charge .99 cents a mile, which would mean an extra $80 for me to take it up to SF and back. Then I remembered there is another truck rental place up there, so I made a reservation for the next day in the eve and thought that would take care of the problem.

Next day comes around and of course my first friend Houston was late out of bed, but said he'd still be coming over and would call me as he was getting near SF to pick up Ox. Meanwhile, the 2 other friends came up with very good excuses on why they couldn't come and help today, but assured me they were very sorry about it. I called Ox to let him know Houston was on his way, and got his Voicemail so I left a message for him to call me. Next call I got was an hour later from Houston telling me he was close to SF but neither of us had heard back from Ox. I called again,a nd got voicemail. The third time I called and got voicemail, I just mentally adjusted all my plans to the fact that Ox had flaked. Which meant I had to cancel the truck in SF I had rented for him (luckly they didn't charge me). Houston arrived and we spent the entire day/eve moving. Houston is a great guy, and a great friend. I wish it were in me to be the boyfriend he wants, but it just can't and won't happen. Around 10 pm that night I finally got a call from Ox, which I was too pissed off to take, so this time he left a voicemail saying, "Hey, I'm so sorry. I thought the move was tomorrow. I was called into work today and left my cell at home. I'm really sorry and hope I can make it up to you." Ox is another guy who wishes I was his boyfriend. I've helped him out on a couple occasions, and haven't always been warm and friendly with him sometimes specifically when he gets too mushy and clingy with me. But I really never expected him to flake like that. I'm kind of still debating on whether this was grounds to end our 6-year friendship. More on that later.

When I got up the next morning I felt like a train had hit me. I was sore ALL OVER MY FREAKIN' BODY. Sex that week was definitely out of the question, which was actually timely since I had relatives over the entire week for a round of "well-wishing" and constant suggestions (nagging) on how to fix up my new place. By the time the next weekend rolled around, I was definitely feeling randy, which was good since Boy-bitch had been bugging me to come over. Although I needed my rest, I also needed to get laid...BAD. So, I picked his drunken ass up from the BART station and we spent the night/morning fucking. Although in fairness, he did let me sleep more than he's ever done this time. And he let me take a couple photos: the first is when he was waiting for it,


the second is after his hole has been thoroughly fucked.


I'm hoping next week things will slow down enough for me to catch my breath, and that my place will sell so I can get that monkey off my back.

Deputy Dawg 1968 - 2007 RIP

This morning I checked my account, and finally Antonio had deposited the money he owed me, so I was grateful to be able to forget about this whole episode and never have to think about him or this experience again. Then I remembered I have an errand I need to do down in San Jose next week, so I figured I'd make a call to see some old friends down there to pass the time. I called one friend of mine that I've known for 15 years (aka from "back in the day") but his cell was disconnected. So, I called his work, where I was told he had passed away. I kind of suspected as much.

I met "Deputy Dawg" when I worked at one of the worst jobs I've ever had at my life; a loan officer for Household Finance Corporation (now bought by the British bank HSBC). It was one of my first "real" jobs, and it gave me a VERY good (or bad, depending on perspective) view into corporate politics, greed, finance and back-stabbing. But while it was a horrible learning experience, I also made some very good friends, and formed a tight bond with my fellow co-workers who were suffering through it along side me. One of those friends, was a very good-looking, outgoing guy who was 2 years older than me who had just gotten out of the army and looked like a short-haired Mario Lopez. We all had nick-names for each other, and his was "Deputy Dawg" because he was the office Manager's right-hand man. Deputy Dawg was a good "drinking-buddy" type of friend, in that we would always go and party together at clubs, bars, road-trips to Mexico etc. He was a total "man's man" and though he had a girlfriend would cheat on her with any other woman that crossed his path. And on several occasions, when we were drinking, we'd share a moment of intimacy where we were one step away from "crossing over to the other side". But in retrospect, both of us were more afraid of the consequences of doing anything and potentially sacrificing our masculinity, so nothing ever happened (but damn, it sure could have).

In recent years I'd been distancing myself from those types of friends for a lot of reasons. The biggest was that I found myself only drinking around those particular friends. I did it for several reasons; to fit in, to be on their level, to dull my urge to possibly mess around with the ones I was attracted to (they don't know about my particular tendencies), and of course to escape reality. I've never really even liked alcohol, but just really enjoyed the commeraderie. So, when I stopped hitting the bars and skipping the weekend house-parties and sports parties with them, we gradually lost contact. But not completely. We always knew how to keep in touch by email here or a phone call there, even though it may be once a year if that. But the last time I saw Deputy Dawg was a year and half ago when we met at a brewery down in San Jose. When I saw him, he was still very big and buffed, but now slightly bloated and completely bald from chemo. The fact was when we had both started at HFC 15 some odd years ago, he had been released from the Army due to the fact that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer. He made a full recovery and was in remission until only about 2 years ago when it apparently came back. He told me as we met that the chemo had worked and he expected it to go into remission again. It was good to catch up with him, and we left promissing to get back together for a bigger reunion with other mutual friends. Well, one thing leads to another and life has a way of catching up with all of us. And when his cell was disconnected, I kind of knew what was coming. I wish I had made a point to get back in touch with him earlier than this week. If I had tried only a few months ago, at least I could have said good-bye.

Anyway, I'm fairly confident he's in a much better place, and he definitely knows how much our friendship meant. Even though we hadn't kept in close touch, we both knew we were friends and at any point in time we could call each other up and pick up exactly where we left off. So, Deputy Dawg, my homie, my friend, mi carnal...rest in peace. And we'll see you on the other side.