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Reply to "Straight To Hell (Sex Stories)"

I guess almost everything revolves around sex, and well, money too, but that's another forum entry all together. I leisurely mouse-clicked into a Maui gay chat room tonight on the World Wide Web, barefoot, topless, holding my java in my hand, wearing nothing more than a pair of tight faded Levi's with a paint stain on the crotch and a rip in the left knee. I'm not one for online chat programs really. ICQ and Yahoo Messenger sit tranquil upon my desktop collecting Internet dust and most of my friends have given up on trying to contact me with these methods, but tonight I was bored to death and sauntered into Gay Maui for something to do, with my avatar picture you see now, as my profile. I click the mouse. I'm in. There are approximately 15 or so people online, nobody is saying anything on the main channel, all enwrapped in cyber sexed private messages I'm sure. Then it happens. I get messaged. I have in my profile that I do not want sex, I make that very apparent because 95% of gay chat rooms are meant for sexual hookups, those quick, simple suck-off sessions in a car, only to meet back up on the chat the next day to repeat the process over with another "sucker". I've done this only once in my life, a long time ago and wish I never had, but I was horny, not to mention bored after a guy typing me 101 ways he make me ˜explode in his reciprocation required'. I'm a male of the species therefore blowjobs are always high quality in my life and I ended up taking him up on the offer. He picked me up in his car at around 1 AM, drove behind an old school, I unbuttoned and hauled my pants to my ankles in the front seat, leaned back with my arms above my head, let him hungrily attack my crotch until I came in his mouth. He got what he wanted, a ˜dessert' of sorts and I could finally be able to sleep that night. It was all good except for that disgusted feeling afterwards of suddenly feeling like a typical chat line fag whore. I've never done it again and I never plan to. That's not my forte, never was, never will be, but some people just can't comprehend that there may be a person that comes on a chat line to actually CHAT. Besides, the greatest orgasms I've ever had in my life have come from my own hand and my own deliciously polluted psyche.
It's not really easy to get someone like me off. I'm pretty desensitized sexually not to mention I'm not into the typical "suck, fuck, cum, sleep" type normalcy. Even if I wanted to fuck, I doubt very much I would find the type of person into the same things as me or at least be honest enough to admit it. Besides, sex is way over-rated, not to mention it can kill you in the year 2002 just as fast as a switch in an electric chair. Got to be careful folks, and safe.
I'm also very fussy on who I sleep with. For one, the guy usually always, 99% of the time MUST have longhair and a goatee or look purely rock-n-roll. That alone pretty much wipes out the majority of the gay community which is why in my past I've mostly slept with straight men secretly behind closed doors who have hit on ME, wanting to ˜experiment', knowing that I was not only very trustworthy, but also gay and a ˜different kind' of gay guy. I was like THEM, which made them feel comfortable. My close friends that know me in person will tell you that I'm usually always deemed the "if I ever slept with a guy, it would be Johnny" type dude (a heterosexual guy even said that out loud once at a bar here in Maui and shocked the fuck out of everyone at the table, not to mention made me the envy of a lot of gay men there LOL), and that's cool, and a damn awesome compliment as well that I very much appreciate. But I've never hit on them EVER, I wasn't feminine, I listened to heavy metal, fought and wore leather rocker jackets, ripped jeans and longhair and have dived into a mosh pit with the best of them. The only difference between us was that I sucked dick, nothing more. They capitalized on that factor and believe me; I had no problem with that whatsoever. I got my ˜type' (longhaired rocker boys), and they got to cum whenever the hell they wanted, with absolutely no hang-ups or nagging girlfriends. We both walked away happy and partied our asses off afterwards. It was all good.
I've had a lot of opportunity here on Maui to get laid, some even from longhaired surfers and hippies from Little Beach, but the most that has ever happened was just simple making out at the drum circles at night there when I first came to Maui. It could have went farther if I let it. It's not the actual act of ˜cumming' I have a problem with (believe me I do THAT many times a day by my own volition LOL) it's just that.... well.... It has to be super filthy in order for me to actually enjoy it.
Luckily, I was always privileged enough to get my ˜brand' of boy and Crystn-James was the perfect embodiment of such. Bad ass, longhaired, tattooed, vocalist in a local rock band and he was a self-absorbed asshole that tried to mask it with a coy smile and malleable voice. The instant I laid my eyes on him that night we met, I seen past the bullshit he so adequately pulled over everyone else's eyes, but it was tolerable because he had a personified rock star attitude, and that's what made my dick hard.
When I met him he was 20 years old. I was 16 years old and ran off from the secure precincts of small town living to the metropolis of the steel city where he seemed to waiting in a backroom corner of a coffee shop, legs spread, cigarette dangling from his mouth sporting a thick goatee and a coy grin. I was new meat so to speak, a 16 year old, small town rocker queer with long dark hair and attitude, the young Johnny Depp clone, the artist with so many possibilities he had seen that I was completely blinded to at the time. I remember him just sitting there studying me and my body language, taking it in with a big cheshire-cat grin on his face.
There was a moment when I once thought, in my teenaged uncertainty, that I loved him like he loved me. Yes, we had eventually spent two and a half years together as a couple but ultimately, the basis of our relationship was pure sex and man, did we ever fuck. Two young pieces of trouble tightly wrapped up in longhair and ripped jeans, brash attitude to match a self-destructing lifestyle, the nightly finale always ending up in a sweat-sopped inferno of hair and metal music, room sweltering and fragrant of fresh cum and wet leather. It was the first time I truly smelled the invigorating stench of boy the moment I shoved my face in his ass and I never looked back since.
He would reach over and place the butt end of a lit cigarette in my mouth, lean back and sigh, my jizz still strewn across his chest running down his ribcage onto the soaked sheets.
"You're dripping baby", I'd mutter in between hauls of the nicotine stick.
He'd run his ringed finger through the thick load on his skin and place it in his mouth, running his other hand through his hair, away from his face.
I would glance over at the slayed meat that lay beside me. Long dark wavy hair down the center of his back, neck riddled with silver chains and wrists to match. Tattoos of a black panther scrawled across his leg, a cracked heart in the center of his chest, black tribal art over his right arm and an arm banner on the left. Two words inked into his beautiful flesh:
His real name was Jamie; he changed it legally once he started singing in the band. Thought it was a more appropriate ˜stage name'. Whatever....
I'd get up, tie my hair back in a ponytail and walk over to the window naked. Open it as I felt him come up behind me and nuzzle into my neck. Another drag of the cigarette....the cassette of Black Sabbath's ˜Born Again' album or something similar would flip in the stereo.
I think I came once halfway through the guitar riff of ˜Digital Bitch'. Funny the little things you remember as your shooting off....
The last time i heard, Crystn was still in Canada, chopped off all his long locks and is now a practising Buddhist.
I really need to start fucking again, it's been way, WAY too long. haha