Chapter 3: Adolescense (Pre-Sex)

My last contact with Chuck Prue (stepdad #1) was in about 1986, when I was 11. That was a big year for me. I was transferred to a new school for 6th grade because they had the GATE program (Giften And Talented Education) for little smarties. I touched my first naked boy when I talked my best friend into getting naked during the love scene in Top Gun and rubbing our penises on the TV. And it was the year that I discovered I was a nerd.

Social status had somehow eluded me before 6th grade, but when I got to Flying Hills, it started to matter. I had never been aware of the popular kids before, but at Flying Hills in 1986 there was a hierarchy. Tiffany was the most popular girl, followed closely by Heather; Jason and David were the most popular boys and best friends, so it was hard to tell who ranked highest. I can't remember the rest of the hierarchy, but I do remember that I wanted to be part of it, so I did what every aspiring kid does and I asked the most popular girl, Tiffany, to be my girlfriend. Denied. Then I asked Heather. Nope. I went down the list until I got somewhere around the 33rd percentile (from the bottom). Oh Rachel darling, how our love did last for a week or two until our dramatic breakup during recess.

The following summer of 1987 was the year my dad made a guest appearance in my life. In August, just before the 7th grade, my mom called me at home one day to tell me that my dad was in town, and she had just given him directions to come to our house. I hadn't heard from Dad since my brain had formed the ability to store memories, so you can imagine this was a suprise. I took a shower, because of course I wanted to look my best, and 30 minutes later a black van parked in front of our apartment. I walked to the van and out of the driver's side stepped an older version of me. That was Dad. I think we shook hands. Out of the passenger side stepped a tall skinny 19yo young man. I introduced myself. He told me his name was Jason, my older brother. Dad looked at my face for some hint of recognition, but there was nothing but shock. Mom had never told me I had an older brother.

Dad and Jason moved into our house for two weeks. It was overwhelming to say the least, mostly because we didn't exactly have a big apartment. My sister and I each had our own small rooms and Mom's bed was in the living room. Dad slept in Mom's bed, and Jason slept in mine. Within two weeks I think everyone was being turned upside down. Mom was back in love with Dad and Jason and I had fooled around in my bed, which resulted in enough shame from him that he couldn't even look at me for the next few months, so you can imagine how awkward it was to still have him sleeping in my room those next few days. After two weeks I went back to Albuquerque with Dad and Jason to get their things and Dad's two younger sons, David and Chris. I had not known about them either.

From the minute I met Dad he tried to relate to me as a friend instead of a father. One interesting example is that Dad had talked to me about porn sometime in the first couple weeks that we knew each other, and by the time we got to Albuquerque I felt comfortable asking him to rent some. Remember, I was 12, but Dad wanted to be the cool guy and he rented two hardcore videos, one of which I remember to be Taboo. We went home and later when David and Chris were gone, we put them on. The couch was facing the TV. Dad sat on the left side of the couch, Jason sat on the right side, and I sat on the floor leaning against the middle of the couch. We watched both movies back to back without fast forwarding. No one talked. No one touched themself. We just watched for 4 hours. I had never been so aroused, and I had never been so uncomfortable.

We packed up his house and made it back to San Diego in time for me to start 7th grade. Dad found an apartment two blocks away and lived there with all my new brothers.

In 1987 I started 7th grade at Emerald Junior High School, and my social standing slipped even more. Those were the years that I started hanging out with the slutty girls with stringy hair and rocker guys who already had a pharmacist's knowledge of pills.

In the first month of 8th grade in 1988, 14 months after he arrived, Dad came over to the house one day and said that he couldn't afford to pay his rent. He said he was going to pack up and leave in the middle of the night. My sister and I went into our Abadonment Rage. We thought our emotional outburst would make him too guilty to leave, but when we went to his apartment the next morning, he was gone. I didn't talk to him again until I was an adult.

Eighth grade wore on forgettably. The next year, my first day at El Cajon Valley High School was one of the loneliest days of my life. But it didn't take me long to learn how to make school interesting. I made a new best friend, and started having a lot of sleepovers at his house. We started talking about jacking off one night when we were wandering the streets, and when we got back to his house we decided to give it a shot. That started a 2-3 month friendship that was my first crush and probably just very weird for him. We got drunk by stealing his father's beer a lot, and had lots of contests to see who could cum first or the farthest. After a while he rightfully got weirded out by my aggressiveness, and we rapidly transitioned to sworn enemies for the rest of our high school days. He was our valedictorian, and later went to West Point military academy. I always wondered what happened to him.

I didn't let our little fight hold me down though. No sir. Now that I had discovered I could manipulate my friends into being sexual with me, I leapt at every opportunity I got through the 10th grade. Jackie and Jason were a brother and sister that lived in my apartment building in the end of ninth grade. Jackie and I dated, though we never had sex. She was a lovely girl. But I really had a crush on Jason. He was a year older than me, and he and I would hang out quite a bit. He always knew when my Mom was home by looking at her parking space. One day he saw that the space was empty and walked into our apartment without knocking. He went back to my bedroom and opened the door. I was naked on my bed, masturbating, and a little suprised to be caught for the first time. He played it very cool though. He didn't say a word, and closed my door. He walked beside the bed and grabbed my desk chair, turned it around, straddled it, and leaned forward so it was against the bed. His body was now within 3 feet of mine. And then he just watched. So I kept going. When I finished, he put the chair back at the desk and left.

That night he asked if I wanted to spend the night at his house. Uh, hell yes! I found out he was just a voyeur though. He asked me to jack off for him again, and I did with no covers and no shame. He, however, pulled his blanket up to his neck so that all I could see was a furious rustling in the lower region while he stared at my crotch. When we finished we went to bed, and we never talked about it again. They moved out of the complex shortly after.

I know this chapter is getting long, but I wouldn't do the story justice if I didn't also mention the girl action I was getting. Elizabeth was the mother of two young children who lived in our apartment building with her husband and kids. She was 18 in the summer of 1990, and I was 14, and she was all over me. She always tried to have sex with me, but her aggressiveness scared me a bit. She was always grabbing my cock or putting my hands on her tits. They were nice tits I guess. She let me suck them a couple times, but I couldn't really get over my fear of her.

Elizabeth, however, did give me the confidence to date another girl that summer though who was between 8th and 9th grade, and whose name I can't remember anymore. I remember going swimming at her house one day, and that I kept pulling my trunks down and making her feel my goodies. Then when we went inside to dry off, I laid on her bed and she became the first person to give me a bj. It lasted about 20 seconds before her mom knocked and then immediately walked in. You have never seen two people jump up so quick. At the time we thought we got away with it, but now I just think her mother was too shocked to react. Thank goodness.

After this came 11th grade and the joys of actual sex with both girls and boys. I'll save that for another chapter (though it could be a book all on its own ;-)

Quick Cruise Update

For those of you who read the last couple posts, I thought I would just fill you in on how the cruise ended.

Last time I mentioned the straight couple who were really trying to get a swinging vibe going. Well, last Friday night me and my friends got far too drunk at dinner. At the end of dinner, we called over the straight couple. They told us that they had been dating for 10 weeks, were from Las Vegas, were having sex 3-4 times per day, and liked to get drunk and naked in public. That last part sold the deal. We told them to meet us at the disco in a couple hours.

In those next two hours before the disco, we did a variety of activities, such as photo shoots in the fountain, group karaoke to "Love Shack", and a (2nd) pre-party back at our room.

When we get back to the disco, things get blurry for me. Let's just say that the following things happened to people in my group:

• Someone attempted to have an orgasm at the bar in the disco at the hands of the Vegas Man, while simultaneously trying to give an orgasm to the Vegas girl
• Someone got a carpet scab on their left knee, and it is from what you think its from
• Someone went home with another person on the boat, only to pass out before anything happened
• Someone slept with a person on the boat who at the beginning of the night was in a monogamous relationship (but told their significant other that they needed to see other people... immediately... and then left the room to have sex with our Someone)
• Someone passed out on a bench in the nightclub
• Someone was so embarrassed by the rest of us that she left at the first sight of our madness and went home

All in all, I would say that we really rocked that boat. I'd just like to give a shout out to my party peeps. Thanks for the memories kids.

The Daily Highs and Lows

I am still on a cruise in the Mexican Riviera with five very fun friends. Unfortunately, we appear to be just about the most fun people on the boat, except for maybe the woman in the disco the other night who kept straddling her boyfriend on the couches near the dance floor and then opened her legs and rubbed her hand over her va-jay-jay while he danced in front of her. Yes, except for her, we are the most fun. As Marshall said today, “You are living the straight person’s dream on that cruise, which just happens to be the gay man’s nightmare.” So true.

Dinner has become the best part of the day, because we all get to sit and laugh together over some pretty great food. In the last few days, we have started a new ritual: High/Low. We go around the table and say our high point and low point of the day. I can’t remember which night all of these examples were said, but here are my favorites so far:

Tina started one night when she came back from the bathroom. Umecke said, “Tina, what was your high?” She replied, “The dump I just took in the bathroom.” A roar of laughter erupted. “And your low?” we asked. “Right before I went to the bathroom.”

I asked Umecke what her high was. “Drinking tequila and beers in a video bar in La Paz,” she answered. “And my low was when Carla and Tony came into my room at 3am completely trashed and Carla kept rubbing my orifices like an untrained monkey”.

Kelly said her high was winning $10 in the casino, and her low was losing $20 (again).

John (the straight guy in the group) said that his high was hearing me tell the story of being handcuffed while bent over a balcony railing in San Francisco and watching the sun come up. Then he thought for a minute, laughed, and said that was also his low.

A girl named Christina who we adopted at dinner after finding out that she’s traveling alone said that her high yesterday was meeting a couple who have been married for 24 years, and then realizing when they started dancing together how in love they still are. I can’t remember her low. Who wants a low after that? Long live love!

Andrew, another of our adoptees, said that his high point of the day was swimming in the beautiful water of La Paz, right up until he got stung by a sting-ray, which became his low.
I said that my high was when a man (with a wedding ring on) masturbated for me in the steam room on the ship. Someone finally came on to me! He was, however, about 60, so after smiling in appreciation I kindly got up and left the steam room. My low was the 60 seconds I spent in Senor Frogs in Mazatlan, with spring break party music blaring way too loud and obnoxiously drunk straight 20-somethings doing shots with balloon animals wrapped around their heads. I promptly hopped in a taxi and went back to the boat.

Carla’s high was the night she and I drunkenly snuck into the crew-only section of the boat and found a tip at the front where we did the whole Titanic “I’m the Kind of the World!” bit. She didn’t have a low. Isn’t that adorable?!

The nights are getting painfully boring, but at least I have dinner to look forward to tonight. Our only other hope is that we can find that crazy couple from the disco again and talk them into doing highly inappropriate things for our amusement. I’ll let you know how it goes.

How to Have Fun on a Floating Middle American Suburb

I had pretty low expectations for the cruise that I am on right now in the Mexican Riviera. Unfortunately, even those expectations were not met. We were told the average age is the 30s, but didn't realize that they calculate it by averaging the ages of the senior citizens and screaming kids. There is no one in the gym, but the line for hot fudge sundaes is 100 people deep. The hairy chest contest had 5 contestants who were all over 50 and twice their ideal body weight. The tours are actually sales pitches to get you to buy the endless crap they have on board for Middle America to waste their money on. The disco plays wedding music, and even the newlyweds look bored.

However, my friends have really taught me in the last few days that we can have fun just about anywhere. Should you ever find yourself on a crappy cruise, here are some steps you can take to spice things up:

1. Be the only person in a speedo. Its the best way to get guys on a straight cruise to stare at your crotch.
2. Sit in a crowded restaurant at lunch and make each person at the table share their hottest sexual experience. Make sure you have one person at the table who loudly repeats each story so that the nearby lunch-goers blush and/or stare angrily at the person who mentioned water sports.
3. In line for dinner on the Elegant evening, shout out in line that you’re addicted to cock. Then ask each of your friends and a couple strangers if they are addicted to cock too. Then reach back and put your hand on your ex-boyfriend’s cock, and keep it there until he says, “Why is your hand on my cock?” Then take a look around and see how many people are aghast at the number of times they just heard the word “cock” uttered in a 60-second period.
4. Find the only single straight guy on the boat. Have him meet you at dinner, and then let your friends all flirt with him too so that he feels like a star. Then invite him back to your room and somehow talk him into putting on a show for everyone, including oral sex with yourself and one friend, while a third friend watches and drinks his cocktail, thinking about how hilarious this will be in his blog.
5. Later at the comedy show, put the single straight man between you and your other friend who blew him earlier in the hotel room. Pull his penis out during the comedy show and play with it from the left, while your other friend plays with it on the right. Then casually sit on his lap, pull your dress up, and rub his penis around your ass. When you are pretty sure that everyone within 10 feet knows what’s going on, send him back to his room with your friend. An hour later, call and tell your friend to leave, and go take over.
6. Invite a girl who is dining alone to join you and your friends at dinner. Get good and drunk and then escort her to a show later. Keep drinking. Wake up in her room eight hours later and wonder if you had sex with her or not. Leave immediately so as to avoid an awkward conversation.

This is all we have come up with so far, but we’ve only been gone for two days. If we can think of any other ways to make a good time, I’ll let you know.

Either my inner scat queen or my inner fat kid is dying to come out

FRIENDS: The following conversation is quite sexually explicit. If you get easily offended or don't want to think of me in a sexual context, then please stop reading here.


I probably shouldn't hype it up with a warning because now you're going to be disappointed if I don't mention shoving a watermelon up my butt or something. Not that I wouldn't give it my best shot. It is 90% water after all. I guess if I broke it down into smaller bits and rounded off the edges... I don't know where I'm going with this. But actually the food sex intro leads very well into my purpose for writing.

The other night I was at a gym here in San Diego. At the time, I hadn't had an orgasm in over two weeks... first I was busy moving, and then I was just at mom's house and there are no orgasms to be had there. It occurred to me that I should try to knock one off before I went home, because if I waited much longer I would go ballistic and someone would have to die, so in a valliant effort to save humanity I tried to bust my nut in the shower.

The gym has three individual showers with curtains. I washed myself and was trying to get into it, but I could hear people at their lockers and I was getting distracted. I needed to get in the moment. I started to try and come up with a good fantasy I could stick with.

I started by trying to think about a man I was dating in New York recently, but he was just too out of context for this gym here in San Diego. There was one man at the gym that day who was significantly bigger than me and hot as hell. He looked like a big hot red-headed G.I. Joe. I started thinking about him coming into the locker room. Ok this is working, yep, I can make this one work... nope still distracted... I need something else...

Chocolate syrup. I don't know where it came from. But my fantasy took a big unexpected shift, and I was pooring chocolate syrup on his butt and lapping it up like a dog. It worked. The rest of the next 30 seconds shifted between G.I. Joe and my fantasy man in New York, with the one constant being the chocolate syrup dripping all over everything in my head. And then glory hallelujah no-one-has-to-die-today.

My first thought was relief. And then my second thought was a long, drawn-out, "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?" Holy crap (pun intended) what does that say about me that I want to spread chocolate syrup around someone's butt? Seriously, my fantasies are usually pretty vanilla.

I felt dirty for a moment, then immediately proud. I thought I was losing my kink in my old age, but maybe Marshall is right, maybe I am a natural contender for the Sex Olympics. Or maybe I have just deprived myself of sugar for so long that my sweet tooth has leapt past craving into bonafide fantasy.

I guess part of the suprise was that I tried food sex when I was about 25 and it just didn't work out. Good old Sal was a very hot 36yo Italian, and we had been dating for a couple months on Valentine's Day 2001. We had a great dinner and then went back to his place for "dessert". He suprised me with strawberries and whipped cream in the bedroom. Uncomfortable stickiness ensued, and in the end it was anything but hot. I think it actually killed the sex. So I gave up on food in bed. Until now I guess.

Either my inner scat queen or my inner fat kid is dying to come out. My gut says its the fat kid. I think I should go buy him a banana split. He can eat the chocolate, and I can put the vanilla back in my fantasies.

Making Babies

I feel like my discussions over the last 30 hours or so have revolved around making babies. I love the term "making babies". I got it from Cassius, a very-close-to-crazy British guy that I dated for two months in Australia in late 2003. Every time he wanted to have sex he said he wanted to "give me his babies". Like his dashing good looks and obsessive partying, it was part of his charm.

Since then I took the saying on as my own, and when I'm hot for someone I now tell them I want to Make Babies with them. I think most people get it. Marshall, on the other hand, always asks if we can start with puppies first. Yesterday I clarified with him that I am not actually looking to produce children. I just want to hump him. But still, I like to call it Making Babies. Marshall pointed out that we would have beatiful babies. Beautiful crazy-eyed bambino babies. Whatever. Just hump me.

Then last night Mom and I got into a big discussion about me and my best (girl)friend making a baby. I am actually referring to a child now. She and I have been thinking about it for about four years now, and every year it seems like a more reasonable possibility. This January she sat me down and assured me that I didn't have to fear losing my life. I could still be the whore I am and it was ok. That made me feel better.

Tonight I discussed it with my sister (mother of three) over some very stiff vodka drinks, and she had a couple great stories about making babies. First, she told me about a transgender man who is pregnant. His name is Thomas Beatie, and he legally transitioned from female to male 10 years ago. Then he married a woman, but she couldn't have children. Thankfully, he still had his uterus, so he decided to carry their baby. He's pregnant now. Here is the beautiful bearded mother/father to be:

Then my sister told me an even better story. Let me preface this by saying that she has very interesting friends. Ok, so this one girlfriend of hers had a long-term boyfriend, and they wanted to have a baby but she couldn't get pregnant. So she asked her sister to carry the baby, and her sister agreed. But three months after the baby was born, the girl broke up with her boyfriend, and even though she had been raising the child, showed up at her sister's house and said she didn't want to raise the baby alone. So the sister, who had two children of her own and thought she had done the favor of a lifetime for her barren sibling, got stuck raising another child. Can you imagine explaining that to the kid when it grew up?

Ok, I'm tired now. I have to go to bed. I haven't had an orgasm in over two weeks. Maybe I'll get lucky and make some babies in my sleep. Good night.

Goodbye New York. Thanks for doin me.

My friend Andi thought I should call this post "A Trail of Broken Hearts." But I broke no hearts in New York. I merely found some friends who kept me company along the way.

Will was the first threesome that Scott and I had. It was my 30th birthday, and he was more into Scott than me, but it was ok because Umecke was visiting and I kept going and talking to her in the living room when I felt bored. Even though I don't think I got off, Will, thanks for doin me.

Two nights later I threw myself a suprise birthday party by spontaneously inviting a bunch of guys back from the Roxy. That was a crazy night! Ben, Nick, Daniel, Chris, Pierre, and Hot Austrian guy, thanks for doin me.

At my and Scott's first New York gay pride in June 2006, we met a guy who had his shirt on and was glued to a girl. We thought he was straight, until later in the night he rolled on up to me and said, "I have a thick 8 inch penis." His name was Scott. Scott, thanks for doin me.

Good old Steve was a cutie. He was the first man I slept with alone after Scott and I opened up our relationship. He looks like a big man, but he's a real cuddly type on the inside. Steve, thanks for doin me.

There was only Scott from fall 2006 until we broke up in May 2007. Last summer had a rocky start as I learned to be single again, but the combination of Fire Island and my new freedom was explosive. That summer was one of the few times in my life that I have actually deserved my slutty reputation. So Shai, Kurt, Kelly, the other Kelly, Jim, Ian, Paul, Jean Francois, Dieter, Barry, Hot South African, Overly Romantic Brazilian guy, Mike, and Chris (whew!), thanks for doin me.

Then I met Brett. I don't know if I want to thank him. Oh hell, I learned something from him, so why not. Brett, you were an adorable pain in my ass, but thanks for doin me.

After Brett I didn't feel like hooking up. The beginning of this last winter was spent with me reflecting on how I wanted to engage men in the future. I became very introspective, but after two to three months, I started crawling out of my shell. I found a few men to keep me warm. Peter, Mark, Tom, and especially the delightful and entertaining John, thanks for doin me.

This last weekend was the Black Party (one of the bigger leather dance parties in the world) here in New York. I wore a leather jock strap and boots, and the line between flirting and sex became very blurry throughout the night. So let me just give a general shout out. Men of the Black Party, thanks for doin me.

And my dear New York. You did me real good, didn't you?! In other cities I dreamt of what I wanted to be. In New York I started realizing those dreams, and then learned what I don't want to be. I had the best relationship of my life, but learned that I can't handle opening a relationship too early. I got the corporate job that was my ideal of success, and then found instantly that I didn't fit in the environment.

Then you threw one last curve ball at the end, didn't you New York?! You gave me several great dates with a wonderful man. You made him funny enough to exhaust me from laughing. You made him just my type. You made him masculine, charming, affectionate, and vulnerable. But I'm on to your game New York. I don't fall for tricks so easily anymore. I'm going to leave you before I have a single negative memory of him, and always wonder what would have happened had I stayed. And in the near future I will hold all potential boyfriends up to the unrealistic expectations that I will base on the perfect scenario that could have been. Marshall, I will miss you.

Through it all, I still love you New York. Goodbye Great City. Thanks for doin me.