Nostalgia?

I know it has been a while, yet again. What the fuck do you want me to write about, every week? Life in a small town is the epitome of monotonous. I go out even less now. I did have a break, from routine, worthy of mention. A work trip saw me in slightly larger city with better pickings. Yes, Was hunting. I needed to get my rocks off. For this, I settled for an old acquaintance. He does not drink so I played along and had some tea (mine laced with whiskey). It was so cold I could have sliced some cheese with my nipples. Foreplay was minimal, but we did strip down all the way. It had been a while for me and I stated it outright, for fear of performance anxiety. He claimed the same. He opted to have me lay on my back while he rode on my throbbing member. Those in the industry will understand that it takes a few tries and gasps to finally reach the inner chasm. Much to my surprise, that anal cavity nearly swallowed me whole. One fell swoop could be used to describe the sensation. After a period of whorish thrusts and barbaric grunts, we were done. Simultaneous orgasms are a thing. We got all dressed up, reheated our teas and carried on as if it had merely been a Jehovah’s Witness at the door.

Fast forward to today. I’m sitting in the dark in my underwear and the word nostalgia comes to mind. I swim in all sorts of positive vibes. I often reminisce on sexual encounters but as I get oder it is the post-coital bliss that seems to make me smile. I am realising I need a partner in every sense of the word. Not someone’s closeted husband trying to grope me in the shadow of night. Not some other lonely soul that sees me as a virile piece of meat. Not some uncertain character that will try beat me to a pulp in a fit of rage brought up by years of repressed homophobia. Not some some experimental bisexual cat that will not suck my dick back. Not some fuckboi that will rock my world- and everyone else’s in the same week. Not some hot body with abs of steel and the mental capacity of toe jam. I need an equal. Better yet, someone that surpasses my expectations and enables me to grow.

Within the nostalgia comes stinging reality. Earlier today I chatted with an old mate. He asked me if I was still ‘bi’ as that’s the story I fed him. I answered in the affirmative and he told me point blank we could not be friends anymore, although he wished me well in my life. He could not understand what fascinates anyone, sexually, in the same sex. He was not interested in asking questions or making apologies. None at all. I’ll admit part of me wants to fuck his life up, just because. I was given permission to label him a homophobe or whatever else the fuck I wanted to. This struck a cord. He is determined to stay in his ignorant lane without any reservations or qualms. It bitch-slapped me back to reality and reminded me of the fuckery that is society. I have to count myself very fortunate to be surrounded by people that care and understand. My heart is bleeding for those who have been rejected by friends and families or even killed for being this way. I was rejected for my truth. That is why it is often well hid. Even Pornhub is about to block me at this rate- what with some of the searches.

Another truth is that I feel my days in this small armpit of a town are numbered. I dusted off my passport and noticed that it’s nearing its last days of validity #fuckingdeepsigh. These days of being alone with my thoughts must come to an abrupt end.

The last truth? Leave me alone for now and let me fill up my pipe.