So today turned out to be a great day. I spent time with my grandma, made time to see some good friends and family AND met a new guy.
This guy "T" was the classmate I was referring to in my post about white men that I exposed myself to this morning on adam4adam. Earlier I gave him my number and we text back and forth for a couple hours of the day. No biggie, I tend to give out my number on apps and get no response so I wasn't trippin' about meeting even though he seemed nice.
Lo-and-behold, he actually text me when I had a space of free time before meeting up with my friends and we went to have drinks. When I first saw him, I thought he was attractive. Slim, intelligent, glasses, great face, so we ended up talking for two hours in a bar about our feelings on being gay, life in DC and ATL (where he lives), work and the inevitable, sex.
Now this for me, as you all can tell by now, is a touchy subject. I'm straddling the fence between throwing in the towel on love and diving into whoredom and actually ditching my addiction for something with some substance.
On the topic of sex, we ended up playing a mini-version of "never have a I ever", the drinking game where you make true or false statements about your sexual past and the person that has done the most acts has the most drinks. Well of course, even being a year his junior and not living in Atlanta, I lost the game. Damn my life in DC. Then as the alcohol coursed through my veins the tales of sexual deviance poured from my mouth like water from botched levy. I had freak diarrhea of the mouth and I couldn't stop it.
Then before I spilled all the beans like I usually do, I took a second to stop and think about some advice a friend of mine gave me about meeting guys. Whether, I'm looking to make a friend or strike up a relationship, I shouldn't divulge too much information about myself up front. Not only can it be damaging to my image, but it can make me seem for a lack of better words "thirsty" and trifling to someone I just met. Like, if someone that was just playfully flirting or having a mild conversation heard the wild things I've done, they would immediately see me as the very thing I'm trying to walk away from.
So I remembered that, shut my big mouth and re-routed the conversation to something more substantial about coming out to family and the importance or lack thereof, of doing so. After I dropped him off at his family's place, I wanted to pat myself on the back. I managed to take a step forward in not going into details about my countless threesomes, didn't show him any nudes in my phone or videos I made. I didn't even hint at trying to sleep with him. I kept it comical, yet real.
Its all about growth and I'm taking baby steps.
- CGN
Saturday, November 30, 2013
No Bedroom for White Men
This morning in typical, hormone driven fashion I hopped on my computer to take care of my morning wood with some porn. Lately my favorite sites, machofucker and rawstrokes haven't had updates with guys I like (brown skinned and darker black men with hot bods) so I was annoyed. I could've watched a video I'd seen before, but I wanted something different.
So instead I went to old faithful jack'd and after finding nothing appealing I went to the last stand...adam4adam.
It had been a few days since I logged in and I usually only go on to switch up my pics, but this time I was horny. I had far too many messages to read so I just started moving my cursor over the screen names and deleting messages from guys that had pics that looked too old, unappealing or if the accompanying message had too many grammatical errors (can't stand those).
Before getting frustrated and logging off because I unlocked my nude and face pics for a former classmate (so embarrassing) I ran across a white guy that I hooked up with before. Now normally I never hookup with white guys and these are my three reasons below (their significance is in the order they are listed):
1) I rarely hit up guys. So when I do they happen to be what I'm used to and comfortable with; attractive black men. If you're not something I find intriguing then I just don't message you on GP.
2) White guys never hit me up. Well that's not true. The ones that do are just repulsive. Fat, older, usually offering me a penance in exchange for sex like my upbringing was in the war torn Congo and their $50 is worth the gas to put in my car for a 20 mile plus drive to their house or could cover my metroPCS phone bill. Wrong, my white brotha. Wrong.
3) I don't enjoy being a fetish. I've watched enough porn and heard enough stories about guys just getting off at the color of your skin (and that goes both ways) that I'm not all the way comfortable with that.
Anyway, back to "B", the white guy, that I met on adam4adam earlier in the summer. He messaged me saying something about my "big black cock" and normally I ignore notes like that, but he was sort of cute and I was going through a dry season. It also helped that he said the had some other black tops helping do him and his friend and, lastly, they weren't far away.
So I went and boy was it my kind of hook up. No awkward convo, everyone was already naked, fucking and porn was playing. So I stripped down and me and the other top took turns plowing the two white guys.
The one that messaged me, nerdy and wearing glasses, wasn't the best bottom and made me slow my stroke down over and over (I hate that). His friend was the real power bottom, but he was older and less attractive so I couldn't be shocked. Then the unthinkable happened.
While I was topping his friend, he said "Yeah nigga".
Excuse me? Nigga? Coming from your mouth?
Not only did he say the word, he said it in a tone that was imitating the way black men talk in verbal porn. Dick went limp and I went home.
"B" messaged me asking what was wrong so I told him. He apologized. Now I know he just wanted to apologize to get some more dick, so i wasn't falling for that so I just went on about my day and hung out with my friends as planned.
I say that to say that I am not completely opposed to white men, but it has to be the right guy. I'm far pickier when it comes to possibility of me being exploited racially ESPECIALLY in America due to the historical and social struggles between the two races. "Revenge" fucking, where some black guys fuck white guys as payback for slavery and oppression, isn't my thing. And being the "BBC" wielding mandingo for some dude isn't it either.
Its like every time a white guy starts to take one step forward with me, he steps on a patch of ice, loses his footing, falls 4 feet back, does a split and one foot kicks the only thing holding up a pile of bricks and they tumble over and just crush his ass. Just take a look at this garbage I got on jack'd the other day smh:
I know there are some potentially decent and progressive white guys out there that fit the mold for me, but I haven't found them. Until then my bedroom is closed....at least if its 1 on 1.
- CGN
So instead I went to old faithful jack'd and after finding nothing appealing I went to the last stand...adam4adam.
It had been a few days since I logged in and I usually only go on to switch up my pics, but this time I was horny. I had far too many messages to read so I just started moving my cursor over the screen names and deleting messages from guys that had pics that looked too old, unappealing or if the accompanying message had too many grammatical errors (can't stand those).
Before getting frustrated and logging off because I unlocked my nude and face pics for a former classmate (so embarrassing) I ran across a white guy that I hooked up with before. Now normally I never hookup with white guys and these are my three reasons below (their significance is in the order they are listed):
1) I rarely hit up guys. So when I do they happen to be what I'm used to and comfortable with; attractive black men. If you're not something I find intriguing then I just don't message you on GP.
2) White guys never hit me up. Well that's not true. The ones that do are just repulsive. Fat, older, usually offering me a penance in exchange for sex like my upbringing was in the war torn Congo and their $50 is worth the gas to put in my car for a 20 mile plus drive to their house or could cover my metroPCS phone bill. Wrong, my white brotha. Wrong.
3) I don't enjoy being a fetish. I've watched enough porn and heard enough stories about guys just getting off at the color of your skin (and that goes both ways) that I'm not all the way comfortable with that.
Anyway, back to "B", the white guy, that I met on adam4adam earlier in the summer. He messaged me saying something about my "big black cock" and normally I ignore notes like that, but he was sort of cute and I was going through a dry season. It also helped that he said the had some other black tops helping do him and his friend and, lastly, they weren't far away.
So I went and boy was it my kind of hook up. No awkward convo, everyone was already naked, fucking and porn was playing. So I stripped down and me and the other top took turns plowing the two white guys.
The one that messaged me, nerdy and wearing glasses, wasn't the best bottom and made me slow my stroke down over and over (I hate that). His friend was the real power bottom, but he was older and less attractive so I couldn't be shocked. Then the unthinkable happened.
While I was topping his friend, he said "Yeah nigga".
Excuse me? Nigga? Coming from your mouth?
Not only did he say the word, he said it in a tone that was imitating the way black men talk in verbal porn. Dick went limp and I went home.
"B" messaged me asking what was wrong so I told him. He apologized. Now I know he just wanted to apologize to get some more dick, so i wasn't falling for that so I just went on about my day and hung out with my friends as planned.
I say that to say that I am not completely opposed to white men, but it has to be the right guy. I'm far pickier when it comes to possibility of me being exploited racially ESPECIALLY in America due to the historical and social struggles between the two races. "Revenge" fucking, where some black guys fuck white guys as payback for slavery and oppression, isn't my thing. And being the "BBC" wielding mandingo for some dude isn't it either.
Its like every time a white guy starts to take one step forward with me, he steps on a patch of ice, loses his footing, falls 4 feet back, does a split and one foot kicks the only thing holding up a pile of bricks and they tumble over and just crush his ass. Just take a look at this garbage I got on jack'd the other day smh:
I know there are some potentially decent and progressive white guys out there that fit the mold for me, but I haven't found them. Until then my bedroom is closed....at least if its 1 on 1.
- CGN
Jack'd Up
Last night I had a long talk with a guy named "DM", I'll write a post about him later (he deserves one), about how my progress to change my behavior is being stunted by my presentation on the mobile app Jack'd.
For a little background, I was first introduced to the app two years ago by a sex partner I have/had that brought it up casually as a more "colorful" alternative to grindr, which I hated (who wants to wait for their pic to get approved from some nerdy app making goblins and have your shit cropped, edited and probably stored for their use? Not to mention women and the media write about it too much NOT low-key at all).
He told me it was a way to meet guys and being 21 and gung ho about making "friends" and the occasional fuck I was excited to make a profile. Long story short, I made the app during a visit in Detroit, which was full of trolls, so at that point I was over it; at least until I got back to DC.
Their were tons of guys in their mids to late 20's with great bodies (because that's pretty much all black men show on sites like that to be "discreet"), who had great grammar and the potential to be friends, hookups and maybe more. The possibilities were endless.
Well I was being far too optimistic.
I started using it so often I became an addict after a few months in 2012. Checking it non-stop hoping I'd see a message, but my lack of notes from the men that I found appealing started messing with my head.
Did I need to upload better pics? Am I not ripped enough? Even when I mustered up the courage to shoot them a message saying "Nice profile!" or "cool I work downtown too!" I'd get a tepid "thanks" or "cool".
What was with me? Was I coming off too strong, too "thirsty" or not attractive to them?
That sort of rapid rejection and disregard led me down a slippery slope for some sort of attention for these "dream" guys online. Being the driven person that I am, when I want something I get it by any mean necessary (even if it means contributing to my own vile degradation), I took a leap of faith and used what I had to get what I wanted. I removed the hackneyed ab shot and put up creative, seduction nudes.
My inbox exploded.
All the guys saying they were "educated, masculine, looking for 'cool' people" were inboxing me as if I never said anything to them before. Some were direct asking "where you at? you wanna cum thru?" others beat around the bush "hi, how's it going? how's your day?"
In the end they all wanted the same thing, but my original intentions weren't completely sexual. Sure I like the way they looked and it would be a fantasy hooking up with guys like that, but I really wanted to get to know them (after all they were looking for cool people right?)
Looking back, 90% of those messages ended up being in person meetings and 89% of the time it was just a fuck. Some of those guys didn't bother telling me their real names, some didn't bother telling me a name at all.
I'd just walk in, get naked, bend them over, then they'd ask "you brought condoms? what kind of lube is that?". The most colorful ones used poppers, had porn playing or other guys already there/on the way. Even so, I still would hook up with the glimmer of hope that the encounter would turn out to be something more.
To make matters worse, every time I thought I was crazy for thinking people wanted more than a nut, a guy would shoot me a "hey" text after a hookup, just to hang out.
Score! I did it! I knew I wasn't crazy! It was possible to be more than a fuck, they were just horny.
Unfortunately the ratio was abysmal and my notebook of partner names, locations and acts outnumbered my new friends 10 fold and before I knew it I was a whore. One day I looked at my notebook and my jaw dropped. My number was unbelievable.
To make matters worse, when I tried to get advice from my new "pals" they were no help because they were in the same position I was, only they owned their slutiness, reveled in it and took me to new levels in my own.
If some told me 4 years ago that I would be having 3somes left and right, making xxx videos and even posting them on xtube I would've laughed. Fast forward to now, I'm afraid of what could possibly be next.
The problem is I recognize this and every time I want to delete my jack'd someone quality comes along that isn't completely on bs or sex-crazed like me. So I keep it open with the dwindling hope of meeting someone that understands me and that wants to be at least a friend.
But that was my two cents for the morning. I've got messages to check and pics to unlock.
- CGN
For a little background, I was first introduced to the app two years ago by a sex partner I have/had that brought it up casually as a more "colorful" alternative to grindr, which I hated (who wants to wait for their pic to get approved from some nerdy app making goblins and have your shit cropped, edited and probably stored for their use? Not to mention women and the media write about it too much NOT low-key at all).
He told me it was a way to meet guys and being 21 and gung ho about making "friends" and the occasional fuck I was excited to make a profile. Long story short, I made the app during a visit in Detroit, which was full of trolls, so at that point I was over it; at least until I got back to DC.
Their were tons of guys in their mids to late 20's with great bodies (because that's pretty much all black men show on sites like that to be "discreet"), who had great grammar and the potential to be friends, hookups and maybe more. The possibilities were endless.
Well I was being far too optimistic.
I started using it so often I became an addict after a few months in 2012. Checking it non-stop hoping I'd see a message, but my lack of notes from the men that I found appealing started messing with my head.
Did I need to upload better pics? Am I not ripped enough? Even when I mustered up the courage to shoot them a message saying "Nice profile!" or "cool I work downtown too!" I'd get a tepid "thanks" or "cool".
What was with me? Was I coming off too strong, too "thirsty" or not attractive to them?
That sort of rapid rejection and disregard led me down a slippery slope for some sort of attention for these "dream" guys online. Being the driven person that I am, when I want something I get it by any mean necessary (even if it means contributing to my own vile degradation), I took a leap of faith and used what I had to get what I wanted. I removed the hackneyed ab shot and put up creative, seduction nudes.
My inbox exploded.
All the guys saying they were "educated, masculine, looking for 'cool' people" were inboxing me as if I never said anything to them before. Some were direct asking "where you at? you wanna cum thru?" others beat around the bush "hi, how's it going? how's your day?"
In the end they all wanted the same thing, but my original intentions weren't completely sexual. Sure I like the way they looked and it would be a fantasy hooking up with guys like that, but I really wanted to get to know them (after all they were looking for cool people right?)
Looking back, 90% of those messages ended up being in person meetings and 89% of the time it was just a fuck. Some of those guys didn't bother telling me their real names, some didn't bother telling me a name at all.
I'd just walk in, get naked, bend them over, then they'd ask "you brought condoms? what kind of lube is that?". The most colorful ones used poppers, had porn playing or other guys already there/on the way. Even so, I still would hook up with the glimmer of hope that the encounter would turn out to be something more.
To make matters worse, every time I thought I was crazy for thinking people wanted more than a nut, a guy would shoot me a "hey" text after a hookup, just to hang out.
Score! I did it! I knew I wasn't crazy! It was possible to be more than a fuck, they were just horny.
Unfortunately the ratio was abysmal and my notebook of partner names, locations and acts outnumbered my new friends 10 fold and before I knew it I was a whore. One day I looked at my notebook and my jaw dropped. My number was unbelievable.
To make matters worse, when I tried to get advice from my new "pals" they were no help because they were in the same position I was, only they owned their slutiness, reveled in it and took me to new levels in my own.
If some told me 4 years ago that I would be having 3somes left and right, making xxx videos and even posting them on xtube I would've laughed. Fast forward to now, I'm afraid of what could possibly be next.
The problem is I recognize this and every time I want to delete my jack'd someone quality comes along that isn't completely on bs or sex-crazed like me. So I keep it open with the dwindling hope of meeting someone that understands me and that wants to be at least a friend.
But that was my two cents for the morning. I've got messages to check and pics to unlock.
- CGN
Friday, November 29, 2013
Gays and the 'Gram
So I'm doing it again guys. Looking at gays be gay on instagram seething with envy.
A part of me feels like its #FOMO, the phenomenon that GQ so eloquently described as the fear of missing out. I get to watch them be everything, confidently, that I'm not.
Some having "to die for" closets, bodies that make you put down the piece of pizza and hit the gym (if you haven't grabbed lube out of lust first). Others just appear to be living life to the fullest in their wolf packs. Living life "out" loud.
My FOMO reaches its precipice when I see a gay that I know (usually fucked behind closed doors) living it up and I wonder why I wasn't privy to hanging with them.
I know that I'd probably wouldn't want everyone in my circle of people, in the dark about my sexuality, looking, but that doesn't mean I can't be seen in theirs...right?
The other part of me looks on in a concupiscent manner, as I want them only for sex.
I know what you're thinking. You're a sick fuck, but I'm not! According to "J", I know you're tired of hearing about this bastard (believe me I'm tired of thinking about him) he meets guys off of instagram to hook up.
I was stunned when I found this out.
How can it be done? Can you really meet guys off of "none bone only" social networks to take things to that next level?
I'm here to tell ya, you can.
I'll give you my experience with it from my personal favorite hookup site, Linkedin. I used to live in a place where people let their titles and incomes define them, Washington, DC, so they were always getting to know people to get something out of them or to "one up" them in one way or another. Naturally a career oriented site where you could see a pic and someone's title feed into that beast. That brings me to "G".
I met "G" first on jack'd and we chatted about work shit, in typical DC fashion, and we were comfortable being linkedin connections. No harm there right? Who'd find anything suspiciously gay about that?
In a nutshell he has a great job at a highly compensating firm, is a frat guy, is older than I am, a rock solid body and is brown skinned. So in my book he. was. EVERYTHING. The more I got to know about him the more I wanted to meet him and get to know him.
In the end though, he ended up being a fuck. I went to his expensive apartment in DC and smashed him with a friend and didn't think much of it. We basically got drunk while watching the Olympics and took turns hitting him from the back.
Today of course, as usual with my track record, "G" and I don't talk. He actually hates me because he thinks I was spreading rumors about him and telling "everyone" about our hookup. I traced the source of that blabbing to a guy who gave me a blowjob at a house party in Largo, MD so I let bygones be bygones.
Anyway, I brought him up to say he was apart of the 'gram posse that I became enthralled with. He was well-to-do, hot and his friends were taking cool trips all the time. Things I wanted to do with other like minded men and be apart of. Instead I became the night entertainment once again and was left as an onlooker.
So in order to take part in the fun, I started to do my homework on gays in instagram:
1) The have lots of selfies and lots of comments from lots of followers that they usually don't know
2) They have some alternate form of contact in their bio, prefereably kik or now bbm
3) They make the degree of separation among gay people very small
I basically watch other people build up their self-esteem by having guys "like" them and I get mad at their followers. I find the whole culture to be repulsive in a way, but simultaneously addictive.
I'm doing my best to not get wrapped up in it and judge myself based on things that I see, so I keep myself at a distance. Half of the time I don't even follow them, I only peek at them through the handful of "acceptable" gays that I know from college.
Its a viscous cycle I'm trying to break from within, but the feelings come back when I see certain people. Even though I've yet to meet a guy off instagram, I have a new prospect on linkedin. So far he's been a nice guy and I haven't been sexual so we'll see where this goes. His name starts with an "S". I'll keep you guys posted.
- CGN
A part of me feels like its #FOMO, the phenomenon that GQ so eloquently described as the fear of missing out. I get to watch them be everything, confidently, that I'm not.
Some having "to die for" closets, bodies that make you put down the piece of pizza and hit the gym (if you haven't grabbed lube out of lust first). Others just appear to be living life to the fullest in their wolf packs. Living life "out" loud.
My FOMO reaches its precipice when I see a gay that I know (usually fucked behind closed doors) living it up and I wonder why I wasn't privy to hanging with them.
I know that I'd probably wouldn't want everyone in my circle of people, in the dark about my sexuality, looking, but that doesn't mean I can't be seen in theirs...right?
The other part of me looks on in a concupiscent manner, as I want them only for sex.
I know what you're thinking. You're a sick fuck, but I'm not! According to "J", I know you're tired of hearing about this bastard (believe me I'm tired of thinking about him) he meets guys off of instagram to hook up.
I was stunned when I found this out.
How can it be done? Can you really meet guys off of "none bone only" social networks to take things to that next level?
I'm here to tell ya, you can.
I'll give you my experience with it from my personal favorite hookup site, Linkedin. I used to live in a place where people let their titles and incomes define them, Washington, DC, so they were always getting to know people to get something out of them or to "one up" them in one way or another. Naturally a career oriented site where you could see a pic and someone's title feed into that beast. That brings me to "G".
I met "G" first on jack'd and we chatted about work shit, in typical DC fashion, and we were comfortable being linkedin connections. No harm there right? Who'd find anything suspiciously gay about that?
In a nutshell he has a great job at a highly compensating firm, is a frat guy, is older than I am, a rock solid body and is brown skinned. So in my book he. was. EVERYTHING. The more I got to know about him the more I wanted to meet him and get to know him.
In the end though, he ended up being a fuck. I went to his expensive apartment in DC and smashed him with a friend and didn't think much of it. We basically got drunk while watching the Olympics and took turns hitting him from the back.
Today of course, as usual with my track record, "G" and I don't talk. He actually hates me because he thinks I was spreading rumors about him and telling "everyone" about our hookup. I traced the source of that blabbing to a guy who gave me a blowjob at a house party in Largo, MD so I let bygones be bygones.
Anyway, I brought him up to say he was apart of the 'gram posse that I became enthralled with. He was well-to-do, hot and his friends were taking cool trips all the time. Things I wanted to do with other like minded men and be apart of. Instead I became the night entertainment once again and was left as an onlooker.
So in order to take part in the fun, I started to do my homework on gays in instagram:
1) The have lots of selfies and lots of comments from lots of followers that they usually don't know
2) They have some alternate form of contact in their bio, prefereably kik or now bbm
3) They make the degree of separation among gay people very small
I basically watch other people build up their self-esteem by having guys "like" them and I get mad at their followers. I find the whole culture to be repulsive in a way, but simultaneously addictive.
I'm doing my best to not get wrapped up in it and judge myself based on things that I see, so I keep myself at a distance. Half of the time I don't even follow them, I only peek at them through the handful of "acceptable" gays that I know from college.
Its a viscous cycle I'm trying to break from within, but the feelings come back when I see certain people. Even though I've yet to meet a guy off instagram, I have a new prospect on linkedin. So far he's been a nice guy and I haven't been sexual so we'll see where this goes. His name starts with an "S". I'll keep you guys posted.
- CGN
Am I gonna be "that guy?"
Last night I was wallowing in self-pity and feeling sorry for my piss poor repeat actions. In the words of the morbidly obese, tragic teen mom Precious, "Yesterday was a bad day. But fuck that day. That's why God makes new days."
I laid down about 2am and woke up around 6:30 pissed. I wanted to sleep in and I calculated in my head how long I would need to sleep to get a good nights rest and to get up and hit the gym at a reasonable hour for me to enjoy the rest of my day.
I couldn't sleep, nor could I shake the feeling of ickiness from the night before. Then the next thing I knew it was dark and early and I got a little shut eye. I grabbed my cell phone, which I slept with, like I do every morning religiously to see if anyone text me, check social networks and see what time it was. I was greeted with a mass of jack'd messages. Still no "thanks for the night" from any of the freaks I invited over to that damn hotel room, but whatever. I decided that "J" is an asshole and I was expecting too much.
Instead I had a pleasant message from a neighbor that I banged out twice before (on the first day meeting him of course) asking how my holiday was, but he messaged me at the wrong time. It was the morning, we're both guys so I figured he was horny. I thought of this blog I started last night, but I suddenly got a massive erection. Damn morning wood.
It wasn't that his sex was great, but he was close and like I said it was morning.
After a few moments of "I like alcohol, I like turkey and 'me too!'" I cut to the chase. Whether I was right or wrong about his intentions I asked when could I bang him out again, he said he was horny and needed some dick so of course I was down to "chill". I wanted it that instant, but he had some lame excuse about not be prepared and wanting his digestive tract to be spick and span before I plowed him a new one. So I got up, went to the gym, ran a few miles, pumped some iron and cleared my head.
I came back home, showered then suddenly remembered that he said he'd be ready in an hour. 3 hours had passed and I heard nothing. I hit him up and he immediately said he was ready, so I hopped in the ho-mobile, my car, and went over to dig him out.
When I walked in, he was wearing basketball shorts watching that BET show the "Game" and began undressing while have awkward small talk about the show while I pulled my clothes off. He kept talking about TV and having to work, so I broke the ice by turning him around, lubing him up and pounding him out for a solid 50 minutes.
At the end of the session, he came twice, I came '0' times (being long-winded I'm accustomed to pleasing bottoms and getting nothing in return, but the perverted excitement of watching my dick go in and out of them so I wasn't mad.) I took a ho bath in his sink, got dressed and he asked me about having a threesome later on. I knew that I did a good job so I told him "hit me up later I'm down". Then as I rode the elevator out of his apartment, I thought "OH God NOT AGAIN." I'm supposed to be getting better right? Why am I falling into the same trap?
When I got in the car another scary thought hit me like a wall of bricks, "Am I gonna be his age still acting like this?" Granted he's 33 (which isn't old), I'm 24. He's a power bottom, I'm a top. But we're both single and both sleep around over and over with no signs of slowing down.
When I first met him, he asked me about my day, we talked about our college days and as two young black men it seemed like we had things in common. We even talked about going to a restaurant together for restaurant week; we just connected (no pun intended).
Then I found out some things about him that were troubling.
He was 33, attractive, single and a frequent user of gay sex networks (2 that I've seen) that had vulgar descriptions of himself as a "slut bottom" that like "big dicks" with his FACE exposed on both profiles. I was immediately confused because when we met he seemed like a solid guy. What was up with that?
Even today after our encounter a character on "The Game", Tasha Mack, said that she had 83 sex partners and he echoed that it wasn't a lot. o_0. I know I've been around the block quite a few times myself, but hearing someone say it aloud has a different effect.
I know that I have a lot to offer someone and I'm sure he does too, but when does the horny-ness end and the hamster wheel of random sex with guys stop? Does it stop? And he isn't the only man in his 30's or 40's that I've slept with that is single, successful (I think) and sleeps around like there's no tomorrow.
I wonder if we're apart of the generation that doesn't know what commitment is or if we're innately whores. Either way I don't like it, but he and other guys seem to be comfortable "finding themselves" in different beds, cars and hotel rooms to no end.
I'm like a drug addict that tries going cold turkey and has a massive relapse every time I stop sleeping around, delete all my networks and chill out for a while. I become like a dog in heat and the lust for sex possesses me and puts me in a trance like state until I have an orgasm from anyone that will do and then I'm back to feeling blue. I have the traits of a sex addict and the issue is I can identify it, but I don't know how to create a framework to STOP it.
The fact is I don't want to be 29 going on 30 or 39 going on 40 hunting for sex on the internet like I've been doing since I lost my virginity at 18. There's gotta be a better, and quite frankly, SAFER way of going about connecting with guys. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier if I just came out, but most of the guys that I know that are out are also whoring for years on end. Maybe one day I'll figure it out and will start thinking with the head on my shoulders instead of the one I'm showing the world on adam4adam.
I've got to. I can't bear the idea of having my wrinkly, hairless sack plastered all over the net because I'm hiding the salt and peppering that comes with being an old man. Gosh I gotta stop, but today was cool and tomorrow will be better...right?
-CGN
I laid down about 2am and woke up around 6:30 pissed. I wanted to sleep in and I calculated in my head how long I would need to sleep to get a good nights rest and to get up and hit the gym at a reasonable hour for me to enjoy the rest of my day.
I couldn't sleep, nor could I shake the feeling of ickiness from the night before. Then the next thing I knew it was dark and early and I got a little shut eye. I grabbed my cell phone, which I slept with, like I do every morning religiously to see if anyone text me, check social networks and see what time it was. I was greeted with a mass of jack'd messages. Still no "thanks for the night" from any of the freaks I invited over to that damn hotel room, but whatever. I decided that "J" is an asshole and I was expecting too much.
Instead I had a pleasant message from a neighbor that I banged out twice before (on the first day meeting him of course) asking how my holiday was, but he messaged me at the wrong time. It was the morning, we're both guys so I figured he was horny. I thought of this blog I started last night, but I suddenly got a massive erection. Damn morning wood.
It wasn't that his sex was great, but he was close and like I said it was morning.
After a few moments of "I like alcohol, I like turkey and 'me too!'" I cut to the chase. Whether I was right or wrong about his intentions I asked when could I bang him out again, he said he was horny and needed some dick so of course I was down to "chill". I wanted it that instant, but he had some lame excuse about not be prepared and wanting his digestive tract to be spick and span before I plowed him a new one. So I got up, went to the gym, ran a few miles, pumped some iron and cleared my head.
I came back home, showered then suddenly remembered that he said he'd be ready in an hour. 3 hours had passed and I heard nothing. I hit him up and he immediately said he was ready, so I hopped in the ho-mobile, my car, and went over to dig him out.
When I walked in, he was wearing basketball shorts watching that BET show the "Game" and began undressing while have awkward small talk about the show while I pulled my clothes off. He kept talking about TV and having to work, so I broke the ice by turning him around, lubing him up and pounding him out for a solid 50 minutes.
At the end of the session, he came twice, I came '0' times (being long-winded I'm accustomed to pleasing bottoms and getting nothing in return, but the perverted excitement of watching my dick go in and out of them so I wasn't mad.) I took a ho bath in his sink, got dressed and he asked me about having a threesome later on. I knew that I did a good job so I told him "hit me up later I'm down". Then as I rode the elevator out of his apartment, I thought "OH God NOT AGAIN." I'm supposed to be getting better right? Why am I falling into the same trap?
When I got in the car another scary thought hit me like a wall of bricks, "Am I gonna be his age still acting like this?" Granted he's 33 (which isn't old), I'm 24. He's a power bottom, I'm a top. But we're both single and both sleep around over and over with no signs of slowing down.
When I first met him, he asked me about my day, we talked about our college days and as two young black men it seemed like we had things in common. We even talked about going to a restaurant together for restaurant week; we just connected (no pun intended).
Then I found out some things about him that were troubling.
He was 33, attractive, single and a frequent user of gay sex networks (2 that I've seen) that had vulgar descriptions of himself as a "slut bottom" that like "big dicks" with his FACE exposed on both profiles. I was immediately confused because when we met he seemed like a solid guy. What was up with that?
Even today after our encounter a character on "The Game", Tasha Mack, said that she had 83 sex partners and he echoed that it wasn't a lot. o_0. I know I've been around the block quite a few times myself, but hearing someone say it aloud has a different effect.
I know that I have a lot to offer someone and I'm sure he does too, but when does the horny-ness end and the hamster wheel of random sex with guys stop? Does it stop? And he isn't the only man in his 30's or 40's that I've slept with that is single, successful (I think) and sleeps around like there's no tomorrow.
I wonder if we're apart of the generation that doesn't know what commitment is or if we're innately whores. Either way I don't like it, but he and other guys seem to be comfortable "finding themselves" in different beds, cars and hotel rooms to no end.
I'm like a drug addict that tries going cold turkey and has a massive relapse every time I stop sleeping around, delete all my networks and chill out for a while. I become like a dog in heat and the lust for sex possesses me and puts me in a trance like state until I have an orgasm from anyone that will do and then I'm back to feeling blue. I have the traits of a sex addict and the issue is I can identify it, but I don't know how to create a framework to STOP it.
The fact is I don't want to be 29 going on 30 or 39 going on 40 hunting for sex on the internet like I've been doing since I lost my virginity at 18. There's gotta be a better, and quite frankly, SAFER way of going about connecting with guys. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier if I just came out, but most of the guys that I know that are out are also whoring for years on end. Maybe one day I'll figure it out and will start thinking with the head on my shoulders instead of the one I'm showing the world on adam4adam.
I've got to. I can't bear the idea of having my wrinkly, hairless sack plastered all over the net because I'm hiding the salt and peppering that comes with being an old man. Gosh I gotta stop, but today was cool and tomorrow will be better...right?
-CGN
Thursday, November 28, 2013
You've Got The Love - Florence and the Machine
Headed to bed. Done writing for the night, but this Florence and the Machine song came on my shuffle as I ran out of things to say....and I need to rest and hit the gym in the morning.
Not sure what this song is about, but I feel pretty spiritual when I hear it and I think things happen for a reason. The sex tonight, the reflection, the blogging and the timing of this song. Weird, but hey its me lol.
- CGN
All By Myself
Its getting late, I've gotten a few things off my chest for the night, but it still feels heavy. I think I've pinpointed why.
Tonight I left a family gathering to go satisfy a sexual urge that wasn't even there to keep a fake friendship together and now I'm back home...in my bed...by myself.
When I left the foursome, I was dropping the bottom I had just met and slept with off at home and trying to strike up conversation. He told me he knew the top, "J" I invited to help me out with him and that it was awkward for him. It was awkward for me for reasons that were probably far too complex for him to understand and I would tell him.
Apparently they met two years ago and had a "thing" going, in the gay community, a thing could be anything. I pretended to not know that they knew one another because I was being nosey ("J" told me he "knew" him, didn't say how, but that the bottom did porn). I even watched how J topped him while I ate the other attendees ass and it was ruthless, cold and distant. The whole situation left me with a bad taste in my mouth, but its what prompted my feelings of disgust and guilt this particular evening and my next actions.
After dropping the bottom, who's name also ironically starts with a "J", off at home I tried calling a friend of mine that didn't answer, an old hookup buddy that was at a family gathering (duh its Thanksgiving, idiot) and texting a slew of people that I could tell how I felt. I got no one. No one I could talk to.
One guy I'm awkwardly friends with from meeting at a threesome last year, or maybe the year before, that lives in DC responded. He tried to empathize with me at first, but then went on to say he was headed to a threesome, had a foursome this past Monday and is going to a sex party tomorrow.
I know what you're thinking. That shit cray. To me that shit is normal, hot actually, I'd probably join him if I were in the same state and town, but it didn't really address how I was feeling.
So I found myself talking to the only person that would listen, any random reader of this blog that might find this, make sense of this, have a suggestion and maybe hit me up with some advice. That's all I wanted.
Instead I'm all by myself at the moment. Which sucks in a frustrated single, black women angst sort of way, but is rewarding because if I weren't alone I wouldn't have started writing this blog. I've gotta start finding comfort in being alone and this might help me out.
-CGN
Tonight I left a family gathering to go satisfy a sexual urge that wasn't even there to keep a fake friendship together and now I'm back home...in my bed...by myself.
When I left the foursome, I was dropping the bottom I had just met and slept with off at home and trying to strike up conversation. He told me he knew the top, "J" I invited to help me out with him and that it was awkward for him. It was awkward for me for reasons that were probably far too complex for him to understand and I would tell him.
Apparently they met two years ago and had a "thing" going, in the gay community, a thing could be anything. I pretended to not know that they knew one another because I was being nosey ("J" told me he "knew" him, didn't say how, but that the bottom did porn). I even watched how J topped him while I ate the other attendees ass and it was ruthless, cold and distant. The whole situation left me with a bad taste in my mouth, but its what prompted my feelings of disgust and guilt this particular evening and my next actions.
After dropping the bottom, who's name also ironically starts with a "J", off at home I tried calling a friend of mine that didn't answer, an old hookup buddy that was at a family gathering (duh its Thanksgiving, idiot) and texting a slew of people that I could tell how I felt. I got no one. No one I could talk to.
One guy I'm awkwardly friends with from meeting at a threesome last year, or maybe the year before, that lives in DC responded. He tried to empathize with me at first, but then went on to say he was headed to a threesome, had a foursome this past Monday and is going to a sex party tomorrow.
I know what you're thinking. That shit cray. To me that shit is normal, hot actually, I'd probably join him if I were in the same state and town, but it didn't really address how I was feeling.
So I found myself talking to the only person that would listen, any random reader of this blog that might find this, make sense of this, have a suggestion and maybe hit me up with some advice. That's all I wanted.
Instead I'm all by myself at the moment. Which sucks in a frustrated single, black women angst sort of way, but is rewarding because if I weren't alone I wouldn't have started writing this blog. I've gotta start finding comfort in being alone and this might help me out.
-CGN
J, Jay, Jaye...or whatever
If you're a quasi-out gay man you've probably heard a variation of a name like this. Jay, J, Dee, D, DJ, RJ...whatever.
I've had so many contacts saved in my phones with the abbreviations and false identities of other "low-key", "quasi-out" or just flat out guarded and dishonest guys that I started naming them by the place I "found" them. (i.e. Jay - Jackd, RJ - from NE, Dee - from a4a and etc).
Every once in a while when I'm overwhelmed with disgust I go through and delete them from my phone in an effort to change. However, I find myself in a hormone driven fit feeling guilty about doing so. After all, how do I know when the carnal craving for flesh might take over and who will I sleep with?
This particular "J" is the top referenced in my first post "Doing it again..." from the thanksgiving night whore fest in the Hotel room I paid for.
I met him a little over a month and a half ago on Jack'd when he messaged me about hooking up. I was horny at work and he unlocked his pics and I thought he was pretty attractive. Tall, handsome, brown skinned, big dick, tight body, so I was game to link up. The only issue was we were both tops. So I hit up a bottom I'd slept with a few times to see if he didn't mind taking the both of us.
After a delayed response from him, I went on a frenzy searching for an alternative. For whatever reason the others were not working out. Either they were not "mobile" (driving), couldn't "host" (provide the fuck spot) or just weren't responding fast enough, but my guy finally hit me back. "J" approved of him after we exchanged a few pics, we got a room and took turns topping him.
After the encounter, I asked for "J"'s number, didn't care about his name, so we could keep in contact.
You're probably wondering why I wanted his number? Another top. And no it wasn't a secret desire to bottom for him or turn him out; believe it or not, I felt a connection with him. He seemed like a nice guy, he looked good, he was closer to my age and seemed like we could be cool.
Turns out it was me doing something that I've done countless times before. Feeling a false connection and creating a fairytale of possibility with someone who was just there to get a nut. I text him a few days later and got no response and I felt a strange sense of rejection.
Was he not interested? And why not? After all, I'm good looking, nice, I have it "together" right? Then I realized why I felt that way.
He filled a void of inadequacy in me.
Somewhere in my clouded head, I found him to be more attractive than me. His body was "nicer", his dick was "bigger", his skin was flawless and I felt that he had some things, physically, that I lacked and wanted to be around.
It was kind of like how girls befriend some people just based upon how they look. I wanted to get to know him based on the outer appearance.
Weeks went by and I said nothing. Wrote him off as a jerk trying to get a nut. Then out of the blue, he hit me up in a brash message on jack'd, even though he had my number (he saved it right?), asking when we could "fuck some ass again".
Feeling a sense of excitement and acceptance I told him soon.
Fast forward to tonight/last night, he came to the hotel room with his friend, who I cared less about seeing, but I didn't mind because "J" wanted him there. (The other guy was cute, but I knew nothing about him other than his general appearance.)
Then during the encounter I was virtually ignored by "J" and it hit me. This guy sucks. We want two different things.
I wanted a friend, he wanted a nut.
As I close this post about "J" I think back about the countless pretty faces, nicer bodies and bigger dicks I found myself infatuated with in the past and try to feel a sense of closure with myself.
I've gotta have better self-worth and more confidence and the real thing not a shell of it like a balloon that bursts itself when it reaches its capacity with air.
I still have his number, I probably won't delete it since I actually know his full name now.
But the next time a " Pretty J", "Big, long D" or sexy body hits me up and asks me to jump I'm going to starting why instead of how high.
-CGN
I've had so many contacts saved in my phones with the abbreviations and false identities of other "low-key", "quasi-out" or just flat out guarded and dishonest guys that I started naming them by the place I "found" them. (i.e. Jay - Jackd, RJ - from NE, Dee - from a4a and etc).
Every once in a while when I'm overwhelmed with disgust I go through and delete them from my phone in an effort to change. However, I find myself in a hormone driven fit feeling guilty about doing so. After all, how do I know when the carnal craving for flesh might take over and who will I sleep with?
This particular "J" is the top referenced in my first post "Doing it again..." from the thanksgiving night whore fest in the Hotel room I paid for.
I met him a little over a month and a half ago on Jack'd when he messaged me about hooking up. I was horny at work and he unlocked his pics and I thought he was pretty attractive. Tall, handsome, brown skinned, big dick, tight body, so I was game to link up. The only issue was we were both tops. So I hit up a bottom I'd slept with a few times to see if he didn't mind taking the both of us.
After a delayed response from him, I went on a frenzy searching for an alternative. For whatever reason the others were not working out. Either they were not "mobile" (driving), couldn't "host" (provide the fuck spot) or just weren't responding fast enough, but my guy finally hit me back. "J" approved of him after we exchanged a few pics, we got a room and took turns topping him.
After the encounter, I asked for "J"'s number, didn't care about his name, so we could keep in contact.
You're probably wondering why I wanted his number? Another top. And no it wasn't a secret desire to bottom for him or turn him out; believe it or not, I felt a connection with him. He seemed like a nice guy, he looked good, he was closer to my age and seemed like we could be cool.
Turns out it was me doing something that I've done countless times before. Feeling a false connection and creating a fairytale of possibility with someone who was just there to get a nut. I text him a few days later and got no response and I felt a strange sense of rejection.
Was he not interested? And why not? After all, I'm good looking, nice, I have it "together" right? Then I realized why I felt that way.
He filled a void of inadequacy in me.
Somewhere in my clouded head, I found him to be more attractive than me. His body was "nicer", his dick was "bigger", his skin was flawless and I felt that he had some things, physically, that I lacked and wanted to be around.
It was kind of like how girls befriend some people just based upon how they look. I wanted to get to know him based on the outer appearance.
Weeks went by and I said nothing. Wrote him off as a jerk trying to get a nut. Then out of the blue, he hit me up in a brash message on jack'd, even though he had my number (he saved it right?), asking when we could "fuck some ass again".
Feeling a sense of excitement and acceptance I told him soon.
Fast forward to tonight/last night, he came to the hotel room with his friend, who I cared less about seeing, but I didn't mind because "J" wanted him there. (The other guy was cute, but I knew nothing about him other than his general appearance.)
Then during the encounter I was virtually ignored by "J" and it hit me. This guy sucks. We want two different things.
I wanted a friend, he wanted a nut.
As I close this post about "J" I think back about the countless pretty faces, nicer bodies and bigger dicks I found myself infatuated with in the past and try to feel a sense of closure with myself.
I've gotta have better self-worth and more confidence and the real thing not a shell of it like a balloon that bursts itself when it reaches its capacity with air.
I still have his number, I probably won't delete it since I actually know his full name now.
But the next time a " Pretty J", "Big, long D" or sexy body hits me up and asks me to jump I'm going to starting why instead of how high.
-CGN
Doing It Again...
Its Thanksgiving. I have a lot to be thankful for. I have a great family, some really good friends and improving health.
What prompted me to start this blog and what has me up writing this post while listening to John Legend's "Again", is the same action(s) that keep me falling back into a sense of cold solitude and despair.
I was sitting over my grandmother's house laughing about a viral youtube video, Sharkeisha!, and watching a Thanksgiving day football game when I got a familiar phone call from an acquaintance from my past that I only communicated with in my horniest moments. He called to ask me what I was doing (meaning was I interested in hooking up). I lied saying I was playing cards and kept talking to family when I was interrupted by a message on a "social networking" app, Jack'd, from a guy asking to hookup.
Due to my twisted obligation to hook up with the guy that called me and my perverted sense of allegiance to someone that hardly knows me, I told the guy on the site that I was open to sleeping with him, sent my acquaintance a picture of him and we went to a hotel to took turns topping him.
In the middle of the encounter, I tried to be more intimate with my acquintance and the top, "J", and was shunned while he was paying attention to his guest who I had no clue he was inviting. Feelings of shame, guilt, anger, confusion filled me to the point of ad nauseum while I was topping the community bottom that hit me up on the app as I watched the other two play around.
When we finished the hookup, the two packed up and left me and the bottom from the app in the room. I sat on the bed for a moment half dressed as they walked out and he stood there with a perplexed look on his face.
The whole situation was awkward. The indiscretion that took place, the way people were interacting; it was un-natural.
I'm writing this to say that it wasn't my first experience doing that. I've done it countless times, with countless partners. Some I saw again, some I didn't. Some I've had a conversation with and some never told me their names.
The only constants in the equation are my imminent feelings of guilt and worthlessness after each encounter.
I don't know why I feel the way I do after each encounter or why I'm so drawn to the same destructive behaviors, but I'm starting this blog to take a walk down memory lane, revisit old encounters, recant old faces and figure out how I can break this cycle of pleasure and pain.
- CGN
What prompted me to start this blog and what has me up writing this post while listening to John Legend's "Again", is the same action(s) that keep me falling back into a sense of cold solitude and despair.
I was sitting over my grandmother's house laughing about a viral youtube video, Sharkeisha!, and watching a Thanksgiving day football game when I got a familiar phone call from an acquaintance from my past that I only communicated with in my horniest moments. He called to ask me what I was doing (meaning was I interested in hooking up). I lied saying I was playing cards and kept talking to family when I was interrupted by a message on a "social networking" app, Jack'd, from a guy asking to hookup.
Due to my twisted obligation to hook up with the guy that called me and my perverted sense of allegiance to someone that hardly knows me, I told the guy on the site that I was open to sleeping with him, sent my acquaintance a picture of him and we went to a hotel to took turns topping him.
In the middle of the encounter, I tried to be more intimate with my acquintance and the top, "J", and was shunned while he was paying attention to his guest who I had no clue he was inviting. Feelings of shame, guilt, anger, confusion filled me to the point of ad nauseum while I was topping the community bottom that hit me up on the app as I watched the other two play around.
When we finished the hookup, the two packed up and left me and the bottom from the app in the room. I sat on the bed for a moment half dressed as they walked out and he stood there with a perplexed look on his face.
The whole situation was awkward. The indiscretion that took place, the way people were interacting; it was un-natural.
I'm writing this to say that it wasn't my first experience doing that. I've done it countless times, with countless partners. Some I saw again, some I didn't. Some I've had a conversation with and some never told me their names.
The only constants in the equation are my imminent feelings of guilt and worthlessness after each encounter.
I don't know why I feel the way I do after each encounter or why I'm so drawn to the same destructive behaviors, but I'm starting this blog to take a walk down memory lane, revisit old encounters, recant old faces and figure out how I can break this cycle of pleasure and pain.
- CGN
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