Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I had to “fire” my therapist yesterday.  I hope that “lay off” is a more appropriate term but either way the result is the same.

I had to fire her for financial reasons.  The recession (or my own fiscal irresponsibility) has gotten the best of me… for now.  This trip to Las Vegas certainly doesn’t help, but it’s been planned and paid for for four months and the air fare and hotel cost me nearly $500.00.  It just doesn’t feel OK to forfeit that, but that’s not really the point.

The Company that Created the HMO doesn’t provide adequate coverage for psychiatric care.  They believe that the solution to their patients problems is to put them in weekly classes with a bunch of other people and one hour visits once every six weeks with a therapist who doesn’t really pay attention.  But if you need regular one on one therapy, forget it.  They don’t provide that.  They do offer supplemental health care, which is a third party company that offers additional coverage.  In the case of psychiatric treatment they cover 50% of 20 visits per year, but it’s on a reimbursement basis, which means I have to pay out of pocket first.  And, even then it’s only for five months of the year.  The rest of the year I have to pay 100% of the expenses out of pocket.  I pay my therapist $75.00 a week for our sessions, or $3900.00 a year.

At the beginning of this year, I began orthodontia treatment with Invisalign invisible braces.  I could never have paid for it out of pocket.  I signed up for the Health Care Spending Account, through work.  One hundred twenty-five dollars of every paycheck went to pay the bill for my Invisalign, $3000.00 in total.  Granted this was not an on-going thing beyond this year, but it was a bigger hardship than I anticipated, nonetheless.  So, $300.00 a month for therapy, and $250.00 a month for the Health Care Spending Account, is $550.00 a month, that I consider money well spent (though it’s money I firmly believe I should not have to spend out of pocket, if my insurance didn’t suck so much), nevertheless it’s money that I don’t have to spend on other things.

Over the last few months I have gotten farther and farther behind on my utility bills.  My three credit cards are all maxed out and even though I keep making my payments, they’re not always before the due date and as a result I’m incurring fees on top of the finance charges and I’ve been unable to get ahead of all that.  And as the final straw, my December car payment didn’t go through because of a typographical error.  Due to my own ineptitude, or stupidity or whatever, I actually thought I had seen this payment post to my on-line banking for my checking account and that I was in good shape.  As a result, by the time I knew that the payment hadn’t gone through, I no longer had the funds to make the payment.  Now they want two months worth of a payment (and they’ve charged me a late/returned payment fee.)  I hold them partially responsible because while they have both my phone number (they’ve called when I was a day late with the payment) and my e-mail address (I get receipts for my on-line payments this way), they’ve made no effort to contact me about this other than to send me a letter that didn’t arrive for five days after the payment was reversed, but I recognize that it is ultimately my own responsibility which is why it’s so difficult for me to tolerate the situation.

For as long as I can remember I have been living paycheck to paycheck and I just can’t take it anymore.  So I made the very difficult decision to discontinue therapy for the foreseeable future (Insightful Therapist called it a hiatus – which I much prefer.)  Starting with my next paycheck I’ll have an additional $500.00 to $550.00 a month (the Health Care Spending account deductions were pre-tax so I don’t know how that will all shake out.)  It is my intention to pay off my credit cards and cancel two of the three, and get my bills back to current and stay on top of them.  I want to get some money in savings.  I would also like to start paying ahead on my car and get that expense paid off as quickly as possible.

The problem with all this is that, until recently, I really did feel like therapy was optional.  Like it was “a nice to have”, but it wasn’t necessary and I could stop going when it became a problem.  The thought to stop going has crossed my mind from time to time over the last few months but I’ve continued to go because I know it’s helping me, and because my therapist is self employed, and even though I know it’s not my responsibility to keep her funded, I also felt a sense of obligation to keep going for her sake.  I can only assume that she depended on my money as well.  Finally, this week-end, when I realized how far behind I am on everything, when I realized I was days away from a Las Vegas vacation, for which I had no spending money, and all the things that would be waiting for me when I returned, I realized I could no longer make her finances my problem and I made the difficult decision to stop therapy.

I arrived at my appointment yesterday afternoon, somewhat anxious about the whole thing but mostly resigned to my task.  I walked into the room, sat down on the couch, looked her in the eyes and said, “I made a difficult decision this week-end.”

“What was that?” she asked.

“I have to stop coming here,”  I answered.  And for the first time in almost two and a half years, I cried.  I continued, “It figures, that after all this time, today is the day you’d see tears out of me.”

I feel like a failure.  I’m angry at my own inability to better manage my finances and my desires to have things.  I’m afraid that without her support I might have some sort of relapse of the depression or of any number of the other issues, I deal with.  I’m afraid that even with the determination I’ve come away with, that my fear of failure will prevent me from actually accomplishing what I’ve set out to do, and I’m afraid that these things I’ve set out to do will hamper any other efforts toward better emotional health that I’ve undertaken.  I feel like this was the worst thing I could do, and at the same time, I feel like I have no other choice in the matter.

When I let her office yesterday afternoon, I was in a bit of a daze.  I drove home, feeling, honestly, like I had lost a dear friend, which is funny since I never felt like I could get past the professional nature of our relationship.  I always had a block about what that relationship might really be because I couldn’t see paying someone to be my friend.  But it really was more than just a service provider/customer relationship.

Life Goes On

Kelly Martin as Becca Thatcher on Life Goes On

There is a moment in television history (during my lifetime, anyway) that has always stood out to me as something I just couldn’t understand.

In the television show Life Goes On there was a scene when the youngest daughter, Becca, foolish child that she was, was breaking up with Tyler Benchfield as played by the tragically mulleted – but otherwise smokin’ hot – Tommy Puett, the guy she’d dated for the first part of the series.  With them both in tears, Becca, played by Kelly Martin, says to Tyler, “I still love you.”

Tommy Puett as Tyler Benchfield on Life Goes On

Tyler says, “I know.  But I don’t think you like me very much anymore.”  Conveniently, within a couple episodes Tyler had been in a tragic automobile accident and after a protracted period of deliberate tear jerking, he died because of his injuries.

Looking back, I should have known then that I was gay because I thought Tyler was super hot and when Becca dumped him to be with the twig that was Chad Lowe whose character was HIV positive and destined to die, I thought she was the stupidest girl on television and was far less interested in the outcome of her character’s story.

At the time I remember thinking how ridiculous it was that she would break up with him if she was in love with him.  It seemed completely implausible to me that someone would do that.  But last night, I finally understood.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am not in love with Insightful Therapist.  But she is important to me.  Our relationship is extremely important to me and losing that relationship is more emotionally traumatic to me than I could have imagined.  I lay in bed last night, with this heavy feeling of loss sitting on my chest, feeling like one of those tearful teenagers saying, “You’re so important to me,” and “I know, but that’s not enough for right now.”

Insightful Therapist called it a hiatus.  I decided to look at it more as a “lay-off” than a “firing”.  We both hope this is a temporary situation.  We both agree that I’m not “done”  I just hope that in four to six months I will feel more financially stable and I can return.  IT said, “You’re in the middle.”  It’s been nearly two and a half years.  I guess that means I have nearly two and half years before I’m done…  I hope to be back soon.  Today, though, I just feel alone.  …Like I’m standing tearfully, on the sidewalk, in the cold watching this person who loves me, but doesn’t like me very much, walking away.

Ob-la-di.  Ob-la-da.  Life goes on

Jimmy Has to Ride in Your Pocket or Lock Him in Your Wallet

I was going to write today about my Thanksgiving break and the day I got to spend with Eve, the coolest person I know, and how it was ruined at the end by her ass hole of a Grandfather.  I’ll still probably write that post but as I was surfing some of the blogs I subscribe to it came to my attention that today is World AIDS Say, and I thought it might be a good idea to touch on that instead.

You see, I’m afraid of AIDS.  Silly right?  It’s 2008.  There have been mad medical advancements.  What do I need to be afraid of?  Well, my answer to that would be simple, one word!  AIDS!  That’s what I need to be afraid of!

I’m referring to my lack of sexual experience, due in part to my lack of opportunities but just as much due to my fears about what could happen. I’m sure I’m being completely unreasonable about this.  It’s not exactly all THAT common, is it?  But honestly, I worry about all kinds of STDs.  I worry about taking risks and about thinking I’m protected when maybe I’m not sufficiently and I worry that by taking my chances, I’m inviting the worst.

I know that, as a gay male, I’m automatically at a higher risk than many and to me, that It’s a real concern.  I also know that many people live their entire lives without contracting anything and I have no reason not to think I’d be one of those people.  I’m not stupid.  I know that I have to protect myself and if and when I do engage in sexual activity I will insist on the highest level of safety possible.  But the inherent fear of the whole thing makes me that much less inclined to date.  I have a preconception, however wrong it may be, that gay men consider sex to be an automatic and integral part of dating, even casual dating and I’m not ready or willing to jump into the sack with any and every man that comes along, despite what you may have read, and therefore I find the inclination toward dating frightening.  It’s a real internal conflict.  I do not want to be alone.  I want to be in love and share my life with someone and yet I do not want to rush into anything.  And, I find myself automatically inclined to be afraid of even a first date with someone because of all the pressure and turmoil that could come with it.

It seems lately like society as a whole tends to take it all to lightly, and while I’m sure I take it too seriously, there must be a reasonable middle ground.

I guess I don’t really know where I was going with all this except to say that AIDS is still a very serious issue that should not be taken lightly and that all of society, but gay men in particular should still be very proactive in protecting themselves from this and all other sexually transimitted diseases.  So take advantage of this day, this national reminder of what we’re facing, and recommit yourself to your own, and your partners’ safety.  Always wear a condom, unless you’re certain your partner is disease free, and never, ever, take any unnecessary risks

OK.  I’m done.  Can somebody come get this soap box?  The air was getting a little thin up there anyway!

Batman’s Return, Part 3

In my dreams.

After it was over, he continued to hold me close to his body.  He made no effort to remove his shrinking member from my ass, and as we lay there quietly listening to each other as our breathing began to synchronize, I knew I’d have sweet dreams that night.  And then we drifted off to sleep.

When the morning came, the sun was streaming in through the open windows over my bed, bathing the room in the early morning light.  Despite my remarkably restful nights sleep, I had moved in the night and was now facing Batman, with our heads mere inches apart, sharing the same pillow.  As I stretched myself awake I slowly opened my eyes to see my new lover, looking sweetly back at me, just watching me sleep.  “Mmmmm,” I cooed.  It was an automatic reaction as I stretched.

“Good Morning,” Batman softly spoke to me.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmmm,” I repeated, as I opened my eyes and smiled.  “Good.  How about you?”

He smiled back at me.  “Really good.  I’m so happy to be here with you,” he said as he brought his right hand up to stroke my cheek.  For a brief moment we were silent as I closed my eyes and enjoyed the loving caresses of his hand on my face.

As he moved his hand down and placed it on the back of my shoulder, as if to hold me close, but still maintain a safe distance, I looked up into his eyes, again, and asked, “What happened between you and Mrs. Batman?”  It was time for the talk we hadn’t had the night before.

For a moment his face hardened, as if encountering a painful memory, and then just as quickly his countenance returned to the softness I was used to.  “After you moved out, I tried to get back to my old life.  I missed you and I was really sad that our friendship hadn’t survived the experience.  But I understood why it hadn’t.  I thought I had done the right thing, standing by my wife and against Bat-Mother-in-law-”

“You did,” I interrupted.  “She was wrong to try and come between the two of you.”

“I know,” he replied, “But I’m really sorry she used you to try to do it.  That wasn’t fair to anyone.”  He paused for a moment, as if lost in some memory.  “But what I didn’t realize at the time was that you meant a lot more to me than just a friend and I realized, after you were gone that I had really lost a lot.  I loved my kids and I truly cared about my wife but I realized, when it was too late, that I really cared for you too.”  His face was now very somber and I could feel the pain in his words.   I reached out to him, placing my left hand on his bicep.  He was still holding on to me, and I stroked his arm lightly.  He looked into my eyes and smiled faintly again.  “After that, something changed with Mrs. B and me.  I wasn’t exactly angry, but I couldn’t really stand for her to touch me either.  Before you moved out, she and I discussed having another child.  After you were gone it was clear, she really wanted one, but I wasn’t so sure.  Things had definitely changed between us.  Mrs. B would make advances and I continually made excuses not to be with her.”

“But you did have another child,” I stated, confused.

“Yes we did.  You have to realize this process went on for almost seven years.  I had to have sex with my wife if I wanted to keep my marriage intact.  Every once in a while, I even wanted to.  I started drinking more and before long I was drinking too much most days.  Over the course of a few years, I went from believing I was straight and that drinking made me feel open to more possibilities with men, to feeling like I only wanted to be with a man and drinking made it possible for me to have sex with my wife.  Eventually, there was so much distance between us that we had no choice but to discuss it.

“She turned to me one morning while we were getting ready for work, I was in the shower and she was brushing her teeth, and she asked me, ‘why don’t you ever want to be with me anymore?’  I was totally caught by surprise and I tried to sidestep the question at first but she wouldn’t let me.  She said that for years now, I’d been very evasive and that most of the time when she was feeling amorous I had some excuse as to why it wasn’t a good time.

“I wanted to tell her that she was wrong and everything was fine but it was clear she wasn’t going to accept that…  And you’d be surprised just how truly vulnerable you feel  when you’re completely naked and the only route of escape is blocked by an angry woman.”  He smiled now as we both laughed lightly.  In spite of the somberness of the moment, I was beginning to sprout a little wood at the mental image of him naked in the shower, all soaped up, with his Army issue dog tags hanging between his mocha colored erect nipples, jingling quietly as he scrubbed his body clean, and for the first time since arriving at my apartment the night before, I was glad we had some space between us and he couldn’t feel my inappropriately timed hard-on.  “I hesitated for a moment, turned the water off, opened the shower door and looked at her.  I could see in her eyes, that no matter what, she wanted the truth.  So I took a deep breath and before I could think better of it and stop myself I told her, ‘It’s because I’m gay!'”

I felt like I was living in that moment as I felt his body tremble with the memory of the fear he felt that day.  I remembered how I felt the first time I told someone I was gay and how hard it was to hold my hands steady, let alone my voice.  I resisted the urge to reach out and pull him closer to myself as I sensed that if we didn’t finish this conversation now, we might never finish it.  With wide eyes, I asked, “What–  How — I can’t even imagine what her reaction was to that!”  I had learned enough about Mrs. B to know that she wasn’t very tolerant of behaviors that didn’t satisfy her.

“No you can’t.  She threatened to kill me.  She threatened to Bobbitize me.  And then she threw my towel at me and told me to get out.  I packed a bag before I left for work, not knowing what to expect when I came home.  I ended up spending a couple nights in a hotel and then I got an apartment with a six month lease.  I wasn’t ready to accept that my marriage was over, and yet at the same time I felt so much better having come forward and finally told her the truth of my feelings.”

“Did you tell her you had feelings for me?”  I didn’t mean to be insensitive but given how the story had gone I couldn’t help but feel somehow responsible for what had happened.

“No!” he said.  “By this time I’d assumed I’d never see you again and this was about me and my feelings.  I had slowly but surely grown to be attracted to men and was constantly checking out hot guys, everywhere I went.  Turned out she’d noticed and had her suspicions for a while.  I guess she just wanted to hear me say it.  Anyway, it took a little while and things got really ugly for a time but we finally sat down together, just the two of us, without our lawyers, and discussed the whole thing.  I explained to her that when I married her, I honestly didn’t think I was gay, and that I loved our children no matter what.  I even care about her.  I just had learned this new thing about myself that couldn’t be ignored any longer.  That’s when we agreed, that I’d move back into the house with my own room.  Thanks to the VA, we had gotten a grate mortgage on a nice big house and it has two master suites on either end.  We agreed that I’d move back in and we’d raise our children together as one unit and that we’d have our individual love lives, too.”

“Wow.  That’s really amazing…”  I paused, looking into his eyes and trying to decide what to ask next and how to ask it.  “So…  Last night…  You were meeting…  a… date?”

Batman pulled his hand away from my shoulder, as if it had been on fire and he was suddenly feeling the heat and I could see his body tense up.  Without thinking I reached out and took hold of his hand, placing it on my chest and holding it in place.  “It’s OK,” I told him, reassuringly.  “Nothing you tell me is going to change what’s happening here.”

He took a deep breath.  “After Mrs. B and I split up, I began to explore this other side of my self.  At first I just really needed to know what it was all about.  To be honest, I did some things that, looking back on it, I’m not really very proud of.  But once I knew what I’d been missing all those years I couldn’t get enough.  I have profiles on several of the top gay dating sites.  Last night was a semi-random hook-up that was set up on one of those sites.  I’m thinking now, though, that it’s time to shut that down.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, smiling, “we might get some mileage out of those sites yet!”  I grinned at him, deviously.  “So you’re not exactly new to all this, then.” I said, more than asked.

“No,” he answered, “I’m not.  I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Are you kidding!  Last night probably wouldn’t have been nearly as hot as it was if we were both novices.  I’m glad you knew what you were doing.  God knows, I wouldn’t have.”

He smiled, “So you’re not mad?”  I smiled and shook my head as I gazed into his eyes.  “When I first saw you last night, I knew this was what I wanted.  I just didn’t want you to be mad that I was… experienced.”  I raised my left hand and rubbed his hair back away from his face and caressed the back of his head.  With that, he reached out and pulled me close, wanting to hold me tightly again, like he had the night before.  And then he pulled his head back to look at me with pleasant surprise on his face.  “Well, hello!” he said, as he looked toward the middle of my body.  Hidden under the sheets, my semi-hard cock had poked him in the crotch.  I pulled him close and kissed him deeply and passionately on the lips.

“Batman,” I said, “I’m happy to have you back in my life, and even happier to have you in my bed.  I can only be grateful for whatever lead us to this moment!”  As I leaned in for another kiss, he took control again and rolled over on top of me, lying between my legs, our erections building as they were pressed between our bodies, side by side like two baguettes in an oven.  He was kissing and licking my chest and neck, nibbling on my ear lobes when I said, “You are so good at this!  I’m so impressed!

“This is the easy part,” he pointed out, “What I did last night is the part that should impress you.  I don’t do that very often.”

I placed my hands on his muscular shoulders and pushed him up, looking incredulously into his eyes.  “What do you mean you don’t do that very often?” I asked, shocked.  “You sure seemed like you knew what you were doing to me!”

He smiled back at me and said, “I have done it, and I do know what I’m doing, but I kind of prefer to be on the receiving end of a good ass fucking, if you know what I mean.”

Indeed I did.  “So you’re more of a catcher than a pitcher?” I said.

“That’s not really the commonly used terminology, but, yeah, I guess you could say that.  I’m versatile, but I do enjoy being the one to get fucked.”

I just looked at him for a moment, shocked by what I was hearing.  Finally, I spoke up.  “Why did you–  I mean, if you prefer to–  Wh– huh?  What happened last night?”

“Well,” he started with a laugh, “I wanted to give you pleasure last night.  I wanted to give you as much of myself as I could and I hoped I could do that by showing you what is, to me, one of the most pleasurable parts of being gay.  I hope I was right.”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, it was really incredible, but, well, I think it should go both ways, don’t you?”

“Sure,” he answered exuberantly.

“I want to–  I mean.  Can I–  I think I’d like to try it.”

“Try it?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I mean, if you think it’ll be good, I want to… to…  be the top?”  I asked, feeling foolish for not knowing the terminology.

His grin grew exponentially as he said, “OK.  If you think you’re up to it,” and as he said the word “up” he grasped my cock which was already quite hard.  “You need to be good and hard, or it won’t really work for you.  Maybe I can help ensure that!” he said as he began to stroke and kiss my growing hardness.

I stretched my body out flat to enjoy my lover’s ministrations.  As my cock grew harder and the sensations more intense I lifted my arms above my head, reaching for the headboard of my bed where I grabbed hold of the rods, thinking how perfect this bed was for a little bondage action.  Perhaps next time (if there would be a next time – God I hoped for a next time) we could explore more deeply, the sexual options available to us.  As Batman worked on my cock I remembered the escapades of the night before and felt the familiar sensations of my cock in his throat.  When he felt that my cock was sufficiently solid, he reached for one of the condoms that I had brought from my goody drawer the night before, opened the package and began to seductively roll it down my solid, throbbing cock.  The he reached for the bottle of lubricant I had provided and turned it over above my dick squeezing a generous amount out onto the tip of my shrouded dick.  He smiled at me and said, “Are you ready?”

“I sure hope so,” I said, as he climbed up onto his knees and straddled my body.  He reached down and took hold of my throbbing member at the base, holding it upright and placing the tip at the opening of his waiting hole.  I felt a little pressure on my otherwise stiff pole and then I saw him sink down the full inches of my dick as I felt the tight pressure of his guts holding tightly onto me.

“You are officially fucking me,” he said joyfully as he grinned broadly at me.  “How does it feel?”

“It’s incredible,” I said, “How does it feel for you?”

“You are awesome,” he said.  “Your dick is hitting all the right spots.”  I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I knew, from what had happened while he was fucking me the night before that there were great sensations to be felt while riding a stallion and I was happy to oblige him.  He sat down hard, on my balls that hung just below his ass hole at this point and pulled his feet up underneath him and then he reached back and put his hands down on my thighs.  He began raising and lowering his body on my solid rod and the sensations were amazing.  Up and down, up and down, he continued to impale himself on my healthy member.  I could tell by the look on his face, the way his eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip, that he was enjoying what he was experiencing.  He repeatedly looked down into my eyes and then closed his eyes and threw his head back.  As he was controlling the rhythm and depth of my penetration I reached down and lightly took hold of his cock that had been sticking out in front of him bouncing to his movement and slapping my abdomen with each inward penetration.  It felt so soft and smooth.  As I gently pulled on it to the beat of his own movements, I again felt the pre-cum oozing little by little out of the slit at the end of his cock.

As it became clear that he was tiring from his exertions I reached out for him and he collapsed forward onto my chest, still riding me and squeezing my dick with his sphincter and Kegle muscles, milking me for all I was worth.  He kissed me deeply and I wrapped my arms around his back.  Now I was in control and I rolled to my right ending up on top of him with his legs on either side of me.  I took hold of his ankles and pressed his legs toward his head, slightly raising and spreading his ass cheeks for a better angle of approach.  Now Batman was lying on his back and I was kneeling at his tunnel of love.  I took hold of my cock which had begun to shrink slightly and stroked it a few times, through the condom to return it to full mast.  After a few masturbatory strokes I was ready to enter him again.  I placed the tip of my cock at the pucker of his anus.  I looked down at him and he nodded.  I leaned forward slightly, placing some extra weight on his sphincter.  It was clear he was used to this because my cock head slipped right past the outer ring of his ass.  Once the initial pop of that that barrier was complete, I slid right in to the hilt.  I could feel my balls, hanging below and resting against the his Bat-cheeks and for a moment I was reminded of the hard pounding I’d received the night before as his hips slammed into my ass cheeks.

I started out slow, this was all new to me, after all.  Once I got the hang of it though I began to really get into it.  Thwap, thwap, thwap.  My thrusts were hitting home and his bat-cheeks were beginning to redden, just as I had imagined mine had done the night before.  As I was holding his legs up and apart, Batman reached down with his right hand and began to slowly stroke his cock as he used his left hand to twist and tug on his nipples.  I watched him jerking it and I looked at his face and saw how he was truly enjoying this fucking I was giving him.  Thwap, thwap, thwap.  This was such an incredible experience and I didn’t want it to end but I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.

Suddenly I knew.  If it had to end, I knew how I wanted it to happen.  I let go of his ankles, reached down and took hold of his wrists, taking them away from his dick and nipples and I collapsed on top of him, pinning his arms down above his head and licking and kissing every bit of his torso as I continued to, Thwap, thwap, thwap.  It wouldn’t be long now.  And then he took a cue from my moans and began actively milking my full cock with his sphincter muscles.  Within just a few moments I began convulsing as I was filling my the condom with my own fluids just as he’d done to me the night before.  As the last few pumps were shoving the last of my cum from my cock, I kissed him passionately, so grateful for the opportunity to return the favor that he’d done for me the night before.

As I pushed myself back up onto my knees to remove my waning erection from his tender ass and removed the condom I looked down and realized that his erection was still hard as a rock.  “Let me help you out with that,” I said, as I lay down next to him for a closer vantage point.  “Mmmmm” was all he could manage as I took his nine inch dick into my hands and began running my tongue up and down it like a candy cane at Christmas.  While fondling his dick with my mouth I used my left hand to rub and tug on his balls, while simultaneously pressing a finger into his taint.  I’ve always been a quick study and I wanted to show my appreciation by giving him every bit as much pleasure as he had given me.  From the involuntary movements of his body I could see I was on the right track. I continued to manipulate his balls and put pressure on his perineum as I opened up and took the top of his penis into my mouth for the first time.  It tasted salty but good and I lightly sucked on it, drawing some of the fluids out of the slit at the tip.  His dick was rock solid by now and I was leery at first but I was determined to return the favor he’d done for me, so I began to press my mouth down on his shaft.  It felt so good to have so much of him inside my mouth, but I knew I was about to get into trouble.

Suddenly, I began to choke and sputter as I pushed his leaking member too far into my mouth and had to back off before I gagged myself.  “Are you alright?” He asked me.

“Yeah.  I guess so,” I said.  I just don’t know how you did it!”

“Just relax,” he told me.  “If you’re tense about it your throat will never open enough to let it in.  Just take it slow and easy.  And if you can’t take it all the way, it’s ok.”

I took a deep breath ready to give it another shot.  I leaned down again, ready to give it my best.  I was working the shaft and squeezing his balls and breathing deeply to relax myself and give it another shot.  Suddenly I felt him moving and as he turned toward me, he leaned forward to take my own growing cock into his mouth.  I couldn’t believe I was actually ready to go again after such a short time, but more importantly I couldn’t believe I was actually engaged in my first 69 position with another guy.  My cock was quickly returning to a fully erect position and as I worked on his dick I suddenly slid down to the hilt and found myself sniffing his balls as they were pulling up close to his body preparing to loose their load, and his dick was in my throat.  I was feeling really close myself and I was completely amazed as we both shot another simultaneous load deep into each other’s throats.  Beep, beep, beep.  I felt like I’d shoot into his throat, forever.  “What is that sound?” I heard him ask.  Strange that he could speak so clearly while my cock was still shooting into his gut.

Beep, Beep, Beep.  Pulse after pulse after pulse of cum shooting into my throat.  “That’s just my alarm clock,” I said.  Wait!  His cock is still in my throat!

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.  “Oh shit,” I sighed.

As I opened my eyes, I realized that my alarm had been screaming at it’s top volume for several minutes, working at it’s maximum effort to wake me from this glorious dream.  As I moved forward on the mattress to turn off the offending device atop my night stand, I felt the familiar, wet and sticky sensation of my cum on the sheets.

The entire thing, may have only been a dream, and I’d mourn the loss of that relationship, all over again, but at least I’d gotten a good orgasm out of the deal, and how could I possibly complain about that.  Where ever you are, out there, Batman, I do still miss you.  And I do still love you and I only wish that my dream would somehow come true!

Theraputic Mistery

Therapy was tough tonight.  There was a moment that kinda slipped by me until after it was all over.

Insightful Therapist and I briefly discussed, at the end of the session, the fact that I had been honest with the Match Support Specialist (MSS) at Big Brother’s and Big sisters, on Thursday, about the fact that I’m gay.  IT asked me if that felt significant to me, to have “come out” and been so honest with the Specialist about something that is so intensely difficult for me.  I said that it did not, because much to my surprise it wasn’t nearly as difficult for me as I thought it would be.

It was a little difficult to say, but far less so than what I had anticipated.  The MSS asked me about my relationship with my family and in particular my parents.  Describing my relationship with Dead Beat Dad was easy.  I pretty much don’t have one.  I’d like to.  And I am sort of working on it, but for the most part it’s just too difficult.  Vengeful Mother on the other hand is a little more difficult to explain.  I just told the MSS that my relationship with VM is strained, that I wish it wasn’t and it’s a work in progress, but that VM is very emphatic about her Christian beliefs and that she and I have some conflicts of interest, namely that I’m gay and VM wouldn’t be OK with it if she knew.  I informed the MSS that my family is not yet aware of this.

What I was expressing to Insightful Therapist, though possibly not completely clearly, was that despite my expectations, it didn’t feel like such a big deal to tell the MSS that I’m gay.  IT was asking me if that felt like a significant experience to me and I said, “No.”  But what I was saying was, “No. It didn’t feel terribly significant to tell the MSS about my sexuality.”

As I was leaving the waiting area of Insightful Therapist‘s office, it suddenly dawned on me.  She wasn’t asking me if it felt significant to tell a virtual stranger about my sexuality.  She was asking me if it felt significant to me, that it didn’t feel significant to tell a virtual stranger about my sexuality.  My answer to that question is, “Yes!  That’s huge!”

There was a lot more to our session tonight.  I’d hate to suggest that I’ve got it all worked out and narrowed down to a handful of factors, just to be wrong, but it seems to me that I’ve stumbled upon something.  It’s my fear that’s holding me back.  I am, truthfully, and shamefully, terrified of taking any steps that might move me forward.

I’m terrified of going to AA meetings, or Coming Out Support Groups.  I felt sick to my stomach and like I might pass out when I was seriously considering the possibility of volunteering with the HRC.  It’s not that I don’t think I can do anything with them.  I know I can.  But there are people there.  People that I don’t know.  And when I began to imagine what might come next after filling out the volunteer form, I was in agony… sick to my stomach… light headed.  I felt like I might just faint, right here in my chair whilst I considered such an absurd thing.

I’ve had so many experiences of rejection by people in randomly public situations that I don’t really feel comfortable taking the risk any more.  It’s easy for Insightful Therapist to nod her head and say, “That must have been so painful.”  But it’s so much more than painful.  It’s debilitating to think of taking the risk again.  To consider putting myself out there for such treatment to be issued, because what IT doesn’t convey that she understands is that it will happen again.  Maybe not on such a grand scale.  Maybe not in such an oppressive manor, but it will happen again.  And it will happen every time I put myself out there.  For every person who will treat me with a modicum of respect, there will be fifteen who will treat me like so much dog doo on the sole of their shoe.  Like I’m something to be dealt with and forgotten about.  I just want to be welcomed, treated with respect and dignity and love, just for being who I am.  To be treated like I’m Somebody’s Somebody, but I can’t shake the fact that, no matter where I go or what I do, There will always seem to be a majority who does not like me.

Miscellaneus, Meandering Introspections (With A Song And Dance To Boot – OK Maybe Not A Dance.)

I’m stuck. I feel completely bogged down. My mind is cloudy. There are so many things that I want to be doing. So many things that I need to be doing, but I can’t seem to make any progress. Part of it is that the things I need to be doing I do not want to do.

I’m at work, of course. That’s where I should be in the middle of a Monday afternoon, but work is the farthest thing from my mind. I really need to get out of this job. I get absolutely no satisfaction from it whatsoever. There’s a lot of busy work that I could, of course do, but I’m just not interested in it. I have tasks that Douche Bag has given me to do, but I know he hasn’t thought of them again, and honestly, if they’re not any kind of priority to him, why should they be to me? Some of what he’s asked me to do, shouldn’t have been put on me in the first place, but as usual, he’s completely out of touch and doesn’t think about what he’s doing.

My mind is just full of random thoughts about what I want, where I want to be, how I want to change, what I’d like to be doing.

Last night I lay in bed, wide awake until about a quarter two, just staring at the ceiling and wishing. Wishing I wasn’t alone was a big part of it. Not just not lonely, but really not alone. For the first time that I can recall, I had this longing to be held. To be wrapped up in a pair of big, strong arms. Leaning back into a smooth, hard chest and listening to a deep, soothing voice whisper into my ear, that things were going to be OK. It wasn’t a sexual thing, although, I’m sure it would have lead to that. It was just a need to be taken care of and to know that I was not alone in life. Not alone in my world. That I was not going to spend my life that way. I felt so small and weak in those moments. So alone and unwanted and powerless to change it.

I spent some time this week-end, trying to think of ways to change my life. Things that I could do to try and find some fulfillment. All the things that I thought of, lead to feelings of fear and anxiety. Sickness even. I feel so overwhelmed. So desperate.

It’s not the depression, Per Se. I’m not in the same place I was in February when I had to take time off of work and attend an Intensive Outpatient Program to try and get my feet back under me. It’s hard to explain how it’s different, just that it is. I feel more like I’m on the verge of something and if I could just figure out what the next step is…

I’ve really enjoyed keeping this blog. I’ll admit that some entries have been better than others and I’m sure this one will end up at the bottom of the heap, but maybe if I can write out my thoughts I can begin to pull back the veil a little. The blog has been fun. I’m finding that I really enjoy writing and it’s something I would like to be able to do more of with more talent. I’ve often longed for a form of employment that doesn’t require a 9 to 5 scenario and that doesn’t require me to go to an office for a specified period or on a specified schedule. Something that allows me to work at my own pace (more or less) and is fulfilling to me. Oh, and something that pays well. I feel like writing could be that thing. But I don’t know what to do with that thought.

I’ve done some (read: not a lot of) research on the subject of writing classes but everything costs a lot of money. I’ve thought maybe I could just try submitting some random pieces to some newspapers and/or magazines but really I don’t know what that process entails, or whether they’re interested in such things. I don’t know the legalities of it all. Does my work belong to them if I sent it to them for consideration without prior arrangement of compensation or conditions? Do they want only things that are topical? And if so, how do I know what to write about and send them when I don’t know how publishing works, and, at least in the case of magazines, a few weeks will pass before current events are written about I could be perpetually behind the times.

I’m tired of working for a manager and an employer who doesn’t appreciate me. I realize this is a common affliction but I’ve never had it this bad before. My job is not important. It’s not important to me, certainly, but it’s not important to anyone else either. Douche Bag rarely pays attention to what I’m doing. He asks me to perform tasks that should be handed off to Unsvelt Girl Who Runs or most recently Fantastical Engineer and then the only time he pays any attention is when he’s complaining or “yelling” about something. It’s not that he’s abusive or hateful. It’s that he’s oblivious and ignorant.

There is absolutely no appreciation shown for my work. And I suppose, you might say my paycheck is appreciation enough, but you’d be wrong. It’s not appreciation enough. Don’t get me wrong. Appreciation without the pay check wouldn’t be enough either, but both are really needed in order to be gratified.

I don’t want my job to be my life. Unless it’s something really great and exciting like, writing best selling novels, or being a big movie star. And even if it were, I’d still want time away from the work. I’d still want friends who really want to see me, spend time with me. I’d still want to be somebody to somebody.

Somebody to somebody… I wonder if that’s really what this is all about. Just one real connection to make all the other shit in my life more tolerable… I’m thinking now of the song by Christina Aguilera:

“Somebody’s Somebody”

Watchin lovers walkin’
Hand in hand they pass me by
Wish I was one of them
Wish I had somebody
Wakin’ up beside me
Looking into my eyes at night
I want a love to call my own
I want someone that I can hold
Want someone wanting me
Wanna feel how it feels to be

Somebody’s somebody
Someone’s someone
Some sweet lover’s lover
I wanna be that one
Someone faithful to someone faithful
Someone kind to someone kind to me
Somebody to somebody who loves me
Who loves me

Spending all of my time
Spending all my time with me
Where is that someone who
I can give my time to
Searching for that lover
With the love that will change my life
I want two arms to hold me close
I want the thing I need the most
Somebody needing me
So I can feel how it feels to be

Somebody’s somebody
Someone’s someone
Some sweet lover’s lover
I wanna be that one
Someone faithful to someone faithful
Someone kind to someone kind to me
Somebody to somebody who loves me
Who loves me

What I’m looking for
Is someone to love me more
Than I’ve been loved before
With love so right
What I need to find
Is someone to hold me tight
What I mean is I want to be

Somebody’s somebody
Someone’s someone
Some sweet lover’s lover
I wanna be that one
Someone faithful to someone faithful
Someone kind to someone kind to me
Somebody to somebody who loves me
Who loves me

Somebody’s somebody
Somebody’s somebody
Somebody’s somebody
Somebody’s somebody
I wish I was
Somebody’s baby

God, I hate the way I’m sounding right now. I’m not a needy person, or at least I never thought I was. Come to think of it, Green M&Ms mother once told me she thought I was needy, right before she physically assaulted me (there’s a story for another time). But that’s the only time I can remember anyone ever defining me that way and I don’t think it’s true. I’m also not a clinger. I don’t need to hang all over my significant other at every free moment of the day. ‘Course that may stem from the fact that the public displays of affection I’ve been a part of previously never did feel quite right, and any consideration I may have had to public displays of affection with someone who would feel right (a man) were verboten to say the least and more likely to be dangerous. Before now anyway.

No, I’m not needy and I’m not clingy and I’m not desperate, at least not in the way it’s usually stated. I’m not the type to latch on to any man who’ll look my direction, just for the sake of having a little physical contact. I want a real, lasting love with a man who will wake up beside me. Who will look into my eyes at night. Someone who will be faithful, who will want me. Someone who will change my life. I do want two arms to hold me close and I’m beginning to think the thing I need the most really is someone who needs me, because it’s not just a one sided proposition. I need to be held and loved and taken care of. But I need to do those things for someone else, too.

I’ve always heard people say that you have to be happy by yourself before you can be happy with anyone else. I’ve always chosen to believe that because it’s easier than facing the feeling that no one wants me. But I don’t believe that. In fact, I kind of feel like, you need to have an emptiness, albeit just a little bit. You need to be lacking in some way. You need to have a whole in your life, in your heart, that can only be filled by a significant other. Not by any random other. Not by a just-for-tonight other, but by a significant other who will be those things you need him to be and for whom you can fill the empty places as well. To quote a movie (and up the cheese factor a bit) you need someone who will “complete” you.

Maybe a lot of my emptiness is about being without one special person in my life who will mean everything and to whom I will mean everything. Maybe if I had that special someone to share my life with, all the trials of the day would seem like less of a burden because I’d know there was someone waiting for me at home. Maybe I’d be stronger and more able to face the rest of my fears if I had someone who was in my corner, rooting for me all the way. I don’t know.

So I lie in bed and I think about this conundrum. I need a man in my life. I need someone who will be all these things for me and for whom I can do the same… But how do I meet someone to share my life with when I don’t meet people at all? When I’m afraid of meeting people. When I’m literally scared sick of even the thought of exposing myself to situations where I might.

Insightful Therapist (I talk about her often enough, I decided it was time she had a kitschy nom de plume) has suggested a few things that all amount to social gatherings. I made the mistake a year or so ago of telling her that I thought my drinking was “a bit out of hand”, and she’s been on an AA kick ever sense. She thinks that going to a meeting such as that would be a good opportunity for me to learn that there are other people in the world who have had similar experiences as I. And that I can find other coping mechanisms besides drinking (I thought that was what I paid her for.) She’s also suggested a coming out support group. Something I have considered, and honestly since November 4, I’m more willing to do, but I’ve come up with exactly nothing as far as information and resources on the subject. I’m sure I could probably ask her for something but if I ask her, that kind of puts me on the spot to follow through.

But even in looking for the resources to consider the possibility… Sick to my stomach… Every time. I don’t really understand why it is that I have such a physical reaction to the fears that come up around this. If I’m rational about it, I know nothing physically harmful will happen and I might gain something from it. But there is a lot of emotional damage that could be done. A lot of harm to my self esteem that could come from it. And then you add the bonus fear and shame of having to publicly confess to something that I’ve kept locked away inside me for so many years (“I’m an alcoholic” or “I’m gay”) and it becomes too much for me.

So to those of you who’ve made it this far into this post, I apologize for the self-pittying, mopy, drivel. I didn’t really set out to do that… Then again, I didn’t really know what I did set out to do. For those of you who’ve gotten this far, and have an opinion, I’d honestly like to hear it. Please leave your feed-back in the comments, and if you have any resourses you’d like to share, I’d be grateful for those as well.

The Low Road

Last night history was made.  Fifty-two percent of the voters in the State of California have voted to legalize discrimination against a whole segment of our population.  A segment of which, I am a part.  I’ll be honest.  I’m truly surprised at how I’m affected by this.  I didn’t think it’d be so hard on me.  In my heart I knew this would happen and yet seeing it has really hurt me.

I hoped and prayed (yes, prayed!) that Proposition 8 would fail and that the people of California would recognize that marriage equality should stand.  That they’d understand that two men being married or two women being married, would have no effect on the “sanctity” of their own marriage, despite their own marriages 50% or greater chance of ending in divorce.  But, I felt it, in my heart, or in my spirit, or in the force, or whatever you want to call it, I felt it and I knew that Prop 8 would pass.  So I should have been prepared for it and not be so hurt by it.

This is my third post regarding this subject since last night and in the first two I took the high road.  It was a short trip!  I’m done with that.  So if you prefer the high road, you may want to stop reading this post now.

THIS IS BULL SHIT!!!  All you hateful, fearful people out there who voted in favor of proposition 8 are shits!  Every one of you.  You should, each and every one of you, be forced to wear a scarlet Y on your chests (if it were up to me it’d be branded on your foreheads, but I’d settle for the scarlet Y) so that everyone else can identify you and then you should all be EQUALLY mistreated.

You should be forced to drink from a separate drinking fountain, to ride in the back of the bus.  You should not be allowed to sit at the lunch counter and you should have to stand silently off to the side with your hat in your hands and your head down.  Your children should be taken away from you and your marriages should be annulled!

Am I over reacting?  Maybe.  But what’s the difference?  I am not a “flaming queen”.  To most people, if you and I stood next to each other, the thought that I might like to pack fudge, or smoke pole, wouldn’t even come to mind.  To me, that’s just one simple way of pointing out that you and I are the same!  So why should you be entitled to a different set of rights than I?

You may believe that what I do is wrong.  You know what?  That’s OK.  I’ve got plenty of people in my life who feel the same way.  One of them even gave birth to me.  You don’t have to approve of my lifestyle, or what you perceive to be my choices, but that doesn’t give you the right to determine what I should and should not be allowed to do.  Do you not know that you are violating the very moral precepts that you are claiming to uphold?  The Bible tells you to hate the sin, but love the sinner.  The Bible tells you to “judge not, lest ye be judged.”  The Bible tells you to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

And if the Bible isn’t enough for you, how about the principles upon which this country was founded.  Our Founding Fathers specifically set up this country with Separation of Church and State in mind.  They came here from a country who’s religion dictated the government and how people were treated and they wanted to escape it.  Separation of Church and State means that your religious views should not have an impact on our laws.  I wouldn’t even mind if churches were allowed to refuse to marry a gay couple because it violates their moral belief system…  Oh wait, THEY ARE.

Anyway you slice it I only hear you telling me that God doesn’t approve of what I do therefor the governments job is to make sure I can’t do it.  THAT’S WRONG!  On many levels, that’s wrong, but I’ll address it just from church and state.  The religious view may be that I’m a sinner, and that I’m going to hell.  I don’t believe that, as I, too, am a Christian, but I respect your right to believe it.  But unlike you, I’m not trying to take away your right to believe it.  My right to marry, however, is not different from yours on a legal front.  And trust me.  Your marriage is on two fronts.  You may be married in the eyes of the church.  You may have had your wedding in a church, or at least a religious ceremony, but you are also married in the eyes of the law, separately from the church.  That’s what your marriage license is all about.

So what’s the harm in my having a legal marriage?  What’s the harm in my planning a lavish wedding ceremony (not to be held in your church)?  What’s the harm in my making a considerable contribution to the states flailing economy by having my wedding in California and spending all my wedding money here in this state?  You have your wedding in your church with your religious piety and I’ll have my wedding in a park or in a back yard or in the little gay bar on the prairie for all I care, but it should still be a LEGAL MARRIAGE.

You know, I will admit that I’m a little surprised by my vitriol on the subject and the way in which it’s been expressed thus far.  The truth is, I’m far less angry than I am hurt.  Cut so deeply, shaken to my very core.  You see, I’m 33 years old.  I’m what I call “newly gay”.  I’m technically still a “gay virgin”.  I don’t have any relationship prospects.  Shit I don’t even have any gay friends.  I’m completely alone and usually feeling pretty sorry for myself because of it.  And I honestly doubt that I will ever have an opportunity to be impacted directly by whether or not Gay Marriage is actually legal.  That would require me to have relationships and to find a man I want to share my life with.  Probably not an easy task.  And while, I’m sure most people will say that I’m taking this too personally, or just plain wrong, I can’t help but feel like this decision is a personal affront.

You see, for most of my life I convinced myself that I believed that gay is wrong.  I convinced myself that I wasn’t gay.  I convinced myself that there were other, perfectly logical, and morally acceptable, reasons why i felt the way I did.  It has taken a lot of prayer, and research, and self exploration and meditation and work to reach a point where I no longer believe that gay is wrong.  I no longer am in denial of the things that I know are true about myself, and I no longer HATE MYSELF for feeling the way I do.  And yet in spite of all that, it doesn’t take much to shake my resolve.  It doesn’t take much for me to question myself.  And I’ll admit that a big part of the Prop 8 battle, for me, was the idea and the hope that just maybe, in a very public, enormous way, society at large would tell me, “Hey.  We believe in you.  We agree with you.  You’re OK, just the way you are.”  Lord knows I need to hear that last part, over and over again.

So there you have it.  I knew, before the first returns came in that Prop 8 was going to pass.  I hated it, and I hate (just a little bit) the people that voted for it, but I knew it.  I guess I’m not really angry that it passed.  I’m not really angry that so many ignorant people out there don’t understand why it was wrong, even if they think it is “moral”.

I’m angry because for the bazillionth time in my life, I’m being reminded, slapped up side the head with the proof that, I must not be OK.  And It hurts.

I’M HORNY!!!

I really hate being so afraid of myself!  I am horny all the time but today I’m exceptionally horny.  I went to work today without underwear.  Lots of men go commando and I wanted to try it out.  I’ve done it before and I’ve always ended up going back to my briefs.  Today, I went commando again, ’cause I really want to get in the habit.  My concerns on the subject were of floppage and discoloration.  Floppage is obvious, the snake, uncontainted, slithers to accomplish movement.  As for discoloration, well..  I’m 33 years old, and much to my dismay, there’s….  leakage…  when I’m finished pissing.  So I was wearing black jeans to work and I figured today was a safe day to give it a shot…  I’m thinking that dark color and thick fabrics (aka, jeans) are safe bets.

It actually went just fine as far as comfort goes, but the longer I went sans underroos the more sexual I began to feel.  (Also, oddly I had to pee a lot more than usual today, and I don’t know if that’s related or not.)

By the time the work days was over, I just wanted to go out and get laid!  But you see, I’m a gay virgin.  I’ve had sex with a woman and I know it’s not for me, but I’ve never had sex with a man, and while I’m sure it is for me, I’m still terrified.   I figured (and still do) that tonight will be just like any other horny night for me.  I’d come home and watch a little porn, or surf the net for a little bit till I found a good image, or cyber date and then I’d take care of myself.

Well, having been a closeted homo for a long time I have acquired a selection of sexual accoutrement that I make use of from time to time and, though every last item would be more fun to use with a partner I do enjoy a little…  self…  torture?  See I think I’d really enjoy a little mild S&M, or at least some bondage.   I’ve got restraints under my mattress, right now, but they’re kinda hard to use on yourself, so they just lie there ready and waiting.

Tonight I came home and dawned my leather chastity belt; a thong of sorts, made of leather, with a rear strap wide enough to prevent any kind of penetration, a solid cod peace with a whole for my junk and straps to hold my hard cock in place and a solid cover that is zipped on and locked into place along with the other straps of the unit.  At this moment, I could not touch my cock if I wanted to and it is hard (and I have to pee again)  I’ve been wearing it for about 45 minutes now.   It’s pretty hot, but it can only last for so long.  I also own and applied a leather collar which is currently strapped around my neck as well as a leather, spiked cock ring that is large enough to double as a wrist cuff until it is needed elsewhere.  I enjoy this, I just wish it was applied under someone else directive tonight.

I do dream of being a submissive, but not a slave.  I’ve read some of the postings of the real live slaves on this blog site, and I’m quite certain I do not wish to give up THAT MUCH control, or be subjected to that much discipline.  I could not live the life, but I would enjoy the play from time to time.  I also would like to take turns being the Dom and being the Sub.  Both rolls do sound appealing.

As I was driving home from work, thinking how fun it would be to drive naked, but I did not do, I also thought how much I wished I had the nerve to go out to a bar and take my chances.  I am afraid.  The fact is that I do not want to get any diseases, and I am not completely convinced of what I believe.  I’ve learned to accept that Gay is not wrong.  I’m not as convinced that promiscuity is not wrong.  I’d love to be able to surf Craigslist and find an ad that appeals and go for it.  I’d love to be able to go to a local gay bar and pick up on somebody.  I’d love to walk through a museum or a book store, or a grocery store, or a gas station and see a guy that turns me on, make eye contact, tilt my head and five minutes later be getting it on in the bathroom, like Justin did in the first season of Queer As Folk.  I’m just not that guy.  I’m scared.

Meanwhile I’m still horny!  I have withstood the torture long enough to boost my confidence while I write this post!  Did I mention I’m horny?  Now I must go and relieve the pressure, if you will.

It seems clear, from reviewing my Blog stats this last few weeks that I do have an audience.  So while I’m off rubbing one out, hows about you boys tell me, how you got your courage, and got the ball rolling.  And tell me how I can overcome my fear and get it on, myself!  Did I mention I’m horny!?!?!