Tuesday, October 23, 2012

the songwriter

I had yet to have sex in my new apartment until last night. Aside from the pleasure obtained from the act itself, there was a relieved feeling when I fell asleep last night after the guy had left, that this would not be some sexless apartment, that I had broken it in in some sense, that this was now more of my home. 

Even before he came over, I had thought the pictures he sent me of his naked body looked quite a bit like Diego's. When he came over there was that. But there was also distractingly the nose of this boy Clay, this boy I had had a brief fling with in Florida, and a boy that I found pretty annoying. I was trying to remove these layers of associations I saw on this boy from the actual boy underneath these things I was projecting on to him. As I get older though, is this how it is bound to be? At this point in my quite experienced sexual life, numerous romantic partners now behind me but still present somewhere in memories, will these men show up in the features of new sexual partners? That with the more partners I have, the more difficult it will be for me to see them independent of who they remind me of?

There were these recollections of years gone by, of boys I had had romances with in this city and others. I told him to get undressed. We started kissing and fumbled our way to my bed. And with my eyes open less, with my hands and the back of my mouth, with my cock and with my asshole, I experienced this boy through sensations other than sight. It was a really fun, sweet, and dirty time. 

He is actually a very nice guy, just young, which at this point in my life makes me a bit wary. Afterwards, we watched Mariah Carey videos on my laptop. We talked about pop music, yoga, and Mexican food.

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