I never really imagined I would grow up to be an ass licker. I mean, brown noser yes, but asslicker…literally? No. I don’t even know why I’m so obsessed with it. What is it with queers and their assholes?
When I was in my ‘formative’ years, I never found my own ass erotic at all. Never, NEVER, did an idea pop into my head…hey, if I shove something up there instead of squeezing something out, it will feel great. The idea was as far removed from me as PA is from Honolulu. But I did grow up with a neighbor friend. His name was Wissy Seletnick. The Wissy part was short for Aloysius. He was a short, stout, sexy Polock and he had this thing where he liked to shove an empty enema bottle up his ass, blow air up there and fart. Now I ask you, how do you dream that shit up? But anyway, there you have it. That’s what he would do and on any number of occasions he would ‘entertain’ me with that. I mean, we were like 9…10 years old. That boy was troubled.
Cut to Provincetown, Mass sometime in the early nineties. I had never been there before, never even heard of the joint, but I went up with a ‘production’ of Vampire Lesbians in Sodom’. Couldn’t have been rinky-dinkier if you wanted it to be. And I got housed with this perfect blond, California surfer kid. I think he was 28 at the time. I was maybe 29 or 30. He looked like a young Rob Redford. Gorgeous. And he was straight, or so the story went. Then one night after a couple of belts and nothing to do…they roll up the sidewalk there by 1 or so in the AM…we were in our rooms and I think I must have suggested that I read something to him out of my journal…or some piece of bullshit I was working on …novel, I can’t remember all the crap I was turning out then, but somehow, and I’m vague on the details, we ended up in bed, me reading to him and the next thing you know we were making out. And I’m not sure if it was my idea or his, but I ended up fondling his asshole and from the moment I touched it, it was like I’d pressed one of those Staples buttons, “That Was Easy!” The response I got from him was over the top: moaning and groaning and writhing in the sheets. Well you can imagine what that looked like…Rob Redford squirming around like a finger puppet with my hand doing the fingering…I went crazy. And the more I fondled, the more he encouraged me to go. It was dark and he kept saying…another finger….another finger. Good thing I was only born with five, that ‘straight’ porn star could have taken enough fingers up there to make applause.
Well eventually he came. He was half on the floor at that point and my hand was so deep inside of him, I would have had to open his mouth to see my wrist watch. And we had an entire summer of sex. He worked at a hammock store and he actually brought a hammock back to the room we stayed in, slung it between two walls and encouraged me to fuck him in it. My lord, those were fun days. PS, later I found that the rest of the cast would stand outside of the door and hear us going at in there. His cover was officially blown.
When we moved back to NYC, we continued to try to make a go of our ‘relationship’ but it was clear after awhile that it was built on obsession…nothing to do with love. He and I both were trying to fill holes that….well, no matter how much you stuff in the physical ones…the emotional ones continue to gape.
I’m 47 years old now. The idea that I still flirt with fucking ass, eating it, having a boyfriend ‘wife’ blows my mind. Yet, here I am still. I wonder how all of this will play out 3 years from now when I’m 50…how about 55 or worse yet 60? I mean, I know that straight people have the same problem…finding sexual attractiveness in older partners…but I think it’s going to be especially difficult to find it between two men. How is any 50 year old man still going to be taking loads, fingers, dildo’s whatever up his ass at that age?
It’s absolutely frigid here. We have 30 degree temps and half the land is still covered with snow. The spring birds have returned and must be half starved, half frozen at this point. A hillside of daffodils planted some 3 years ago is erupting in those stout, pine green stems I love to see. Looks like the display will be full. I can’t wait to lie in some warm grass soon and look at them. Who will be in my arms on that day? Where will my hands be…and where will they wander? Over grass, across his sunshine heated clothes, feeling thigh and buttocks. Where will all my protestations about gay sex be then, when I pull that man to me, kiss him and make him mine?
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