The Emancipation Sex-clamation

For the first few months after I moved out on my own my sex life improved immensely. For the first time ever not only could I host, but I didn't have to schlep the guy out to the old outbuilding at my grandma's house that I lovingly referred to as the Blair Witch house. At one point it was a barn or something - it was a farm when my grandma was growing up - but by the time I was born it was just a dilapidated building filled with old clothes and odds and ends. By the time I lived there as an adult, the roof had completely collapsed and all that was left were the brick walls. I used to sneak out there to smoke, knowing my grandmother wouldn't be able to catch me.

The first guy I had over to my new place was named Josh; we'd talked online on and off for years. He was handsome - in my opinion - with brown hair and eyes and an adorable smile. I liked that he was not well-endowed; it would be easier to get him off. He came to see me one night after work; I made us pizza and we curled up on my couch to eat and watch Diana: the Musical on Netflix. He smelled so good; I was immediately at ease around him. We spent the entire first act cuddling and touching each other. At the intermission, we went into my bedroom. I pushed him down onto the bed aggressively, kissing him. He was recovering from a bout of gonorrhea, so I knew that we couldn't do much; it didn't stop us from jerking each other off and entwining our hot, naked bodies. We repeated this after the second act; this time he sucked my dick. I knew that Josh wasn't looking for anything serious, which bummed me out, because we had great chemistry. Over the years I have stayed in touch with him, trying to get him to come back and visit, but so far it hasn't happened. He also hasn't changed his stance on dating, much to my chagrin. I hold a special place in my heart for him, should he ever want to try for something serious.

The next guy to come over was Shane; we had a passionate late-night tryst around my birthday of that year. I knew that nothing was going to come of it, but I enjoyed being able to be with him in a bed, in a place where I was comfortable, not in a crammed back seat.

In late October, I invited a guy from Grindr over. It was late when he arrived, but it was worth losing sleep over. He was heavier than I'm normally into, but he was adorably handsome and immediately I felt comfortable with him. He lived in Auburn with his boyfriend - they were in an open relationship - we spent a long time just talking. I told him that I didn't care if we did anything sexual, that it was nice to just talk and be comfortable with someone. We ended up exchanging head; he was my first - knowingly - uncut cock. I must have misread the situation or come across as too clingy; I tried messaging him after the fact, but before long, I was blocked. I had genuinely liked him as a person, but I understood that sometimes a hookup is just a hookup; it's nothing personal.

One fall night once hunting season had commenced, I connected with an eighteen year old on Grindr named Trenton; he wasn't from the area, but came up my way in the fall to hunt on his family's property up north. He was nervous when I opened the door and let him in. He had a long, curly blond mullet and was wearing head to toe camo. I got the impression that he wasn't going to want to touch me, but after I sucked his dick a little bit, he asked if he could suck mine. He was cute in a good ol' boy kind of way; his dick was nice, perfectly sized and neatly groomed. He promised to stay in touch, expressing interest in coming by again soon when he was up my way; we snapped for a while, but he ended up either blocking me or completely deleting his account altogether. He had mentioned that we needed to be discreet because he had a girlfriend; I assume he either got caught or decided to commit to her. I wasn't bothered that we never met again; I could tell that it was a forbidden experiment for me, not an experience that would lead to anything more long-term or concrete.

There was another random guy from Grindr that I invited over one boring Monday. He was handsome, but we didn't really click. He looked to be Middle Eastern perhaps, with caramel colored skin and gorgeous chocolate brown eyes; unfortunately for him, he had a tragic hairline that was receding quite early for him -- he was in his mid-twenties. He liked it when I held his cock in my hand and ran my thumb around the head. As soon as he came, he checked his phone, telling me that his sister's car had broken down and that he had to go pick her up; he'd had a good time, had loved that we'd watched some of Freaky Friday before getting sexy. I suspected that he was using his sister as an excuse to get out, but I didn't really care. There wasn't any chemistry there; he could have just pulled his clothes back on and left. He blocked me later that week; my feelings weren't hurt.

At that point I was working a lot. When three of our staff members had quit at work, I had volunteered to do the school lunch on Mondays and Tuesdays, as well as my normal Tuesday through Sunday shifts. I had a lot of overtime, but I was exhausted. When Thanksgiving rolled around I was so grateful for the extra day off. I intended to spend the day sleeping, or at least resting, but my libido took control of my thought processes; I was more interested in getting laid than in sleeping.

There was a guy named Jake that I'd met on Grindr a few months previously. We'd talked about going on a date, but our schedules never seemed to line up. He told me that he'd only ever been with one other guy before, which I found endearing. He seemed like a nice guy, always smiling and spreading positivity. I had asked him if he wanted to come over to watch a movie or something, but he had to go to his dad's house for dinner in Clio; he said he'd let me know if he felt up to stopping by on his way home. I figured that he wouldn't;

I had talked to a guy named Aaron on Grindr a few times. He seemed nice, but he wasn't really my type: he was blond, with blue eyes and about one hundred extra pounds on him. His Snapchats made him out to be incredibly loud and annoying, but when he messaged me saying that he was passing through my area and was down to give me head, I figured what the hell? He didn't want to talk or anything, preferring to get right to it; that has never really worked for me. It took a while for me to fully get into it; I got incredibly turned on when he laid on his back and I stood over him, face-fucking him. Something about being in control - being dominant - was able to overrule my anxiety and discomfort. All I could think about was how hot it was that I was dominating him, that he was mine to use as I saw fit. The sounds of him gagging on my cock spurred me on until I shot my load deep into his throat. After, he lay there panting, desperate to catch his breath. I learned that he a Texas transplant, but that he didn't have much of an accent, thankfully; as I get older, southern accents irritate me more and more. I was about to offer him some head or a hand job in return, but thankfully he had to go to work and didn't have time; I wasn't sure what he did that he had to work on Thanksgiving, but I didn't care enough to try to get to know him better. I was more than okay with not having to reciprocate. I saw Aaron again a couple of years ago at the McDonald's in Pinconning; he'd lost weight and was looking good; we talked about meeting up again, but I'm at an age now where I don't want to force it.

A couple of hours later, I was watching TV when Jake got ahold of me; much to my surprise he wanted to see me on his way home. He showed up about forty-five minutes later carrying a plate of leftovers from dinner: asparagus, salmon, potatoes. He was cute in a nerdy way; he had an oddly shaped head - his jagged hairline did nothing to hide that - on top of large gums, tiny teeth, and a speech impediment. I figured we weren't going to do anything sexual; we cuddled up in my bed and watched Tick, Tick... Boom! During the movie, I caught him looking at me, his eyes burning with lust. We made out a little, but he said that was all that he wanted to do. After the movie we went out to his truck to smoke. He smoked the same cigarettes that I did; I had recently started smoking again, but was trying not to buy them, figuring I'd be able to avoid getting addicted if I only had the occasional cigarette. He ended up giving me the rest of the pack - about a quarter of the way full - before we went back inside. We made out some more, having stripped down naked, before he stood up and said that he had to go. I was frustrated that he'd gotten me horny just to leave before we could do anything about it, but I respected his wishes and understood that he'd had a long day. I was about to let him leave when he started kissing my neck - a surefire way to make me horny. I pushed him back on the bed, apologizing. We sucked each other a little while I fingered him. The dichotomy of pure innocent interpolated with overwhelming lust turned me on as I worked my fingers inside of his tight ass. I was sad when he left but was hopeful that we'd see each other again. I tried to maintain contact with Jake, but he kept vanishing. He dated some guy for awhile, but then returned, only to tell me that he was only interested in being friends with me. I was disappointed and surprised because we had had phenomenal chemistry together; I had wanted him in ways that I rarely wanted anyone that I had just met. I have encountered him sporadically at Grindr, but he began not responding and eventually blocking me.

Hours later, I was a bowl or two into my evening when another guy messaged me. His name was Kale; he was nineteen or twenty, a California native. We'd hooked up a few times, but he was a sort of last resort for me. He was incredibly awkward, not talking, and when he sucked my dick, he did it at high speed the entire time; the two times that we'd hooked up before, I'd had to force myself to cum. Kale asked what I was doing for Thanksgiving; when he learned that I was spending it alone, he offered to come over when he got out of work. Part of me was completely shocked that I'd already had two orgasms by two different guys and now was being offered another. Did it make me a slut if I took him up on the offer? Should I have told him about the other two guys? I decided that if it was being offered up I'd gladly except, if for no other reason than it made a great story and I had a lot of catching up to do sexwise. He showed up with some Cheez Its and Powerade - one of my favorite oddball snacks - and a piece of pumpkin pie. I offered to pay him - he'd brought them from the gas station where he worked - but he assured me that it was fine. I got the impression that Kale was starting to develop a crush on me, but I wasn't sure how to tell him that I wasn't interested in him like that without hurting his feelings. He ended up giving me head - at Mach 10 - while I jerked him off. After we both came, he left. We stayed in contact for a while after that on Snapchat, but then he disappeared; I haven't heard from him in years. He had seemed like a nice enough kid; I hope that he found a great guy who was nuts about him.

I went a few months without meeting anyone. I usually suffer from seasonal depression - on top of my normal, every day depression - in wintertime; it's not uncommon for me to lose any interest in sex of any kind. That summer, I had my first fling with Cary, but it wasn't until the end of July that I had sex for the first time in six years.

I started talking to this young Latino guy named Jay on Grindr; he was small with a big ass, which I found appealing, but his face was not attractive to me. He had big eyes and septum piercing; I decided to give him a shot, after all, beggars can't be choosers. When he showed up at my apartment, I let him in. "Hi," I said. He just started back at me in silence, his big eyes locked onto mine. I could smell his cologne - almost as if he'd bathed in it. I had him get into the shower with me, but I was perturbed by his lack of conversation; whatever I said, he just followed along, staring at me with his owl eyes. F0r a bit I considered that was deaf, but once we got into bed - and he smelled more natural - he did talk a little. He'd started to annoy me because he just lay there staring at me, creeping me out. I finally told him that he was freaking me out with his silence, so he spoke a little. He had a slight lisp - maybe that was why he didn't like to talk? He wanted me to fuck him, but I didn't have any condoms, and I try to reserve sex for guys that I'm comfortable with and find attractive. I was delighted to see that his nipples were pierced, and he mewled like a kitten as I sucked, licked, kissed, and nibbled on them. I had no intention of fucking him, but almost as if I was possessed, I found myself slipping my cock into his warm ass. I railed him from behind for a while before he asked to ride; I'd never been ridden before, but I figured it sounded hot and was down to expand my limited horizons beyond doggy-style. He climbed on top and started riding me, but once the initial thrill went away, I felt nothing. I jerked his tiny cock while he rode me until he came on my chest. I told him that he could be done, but he continued to ride my dick for another hour or so. Once we were both drenched in sweat, I told him to stop. As he climbed off of my dick, I saw and heard him wince; his ass must have really hurt from taking my dick for over an hour straight. I smelled shit - much to my chagrin - but kept it together as I discreetly went to the bathroom to wash my hands and my dick; it took several rounds of washing to get the poop smell off. That was the day that I learned that I don't like being ridden. A year or so later, I hung out with him again, but he was equally weird. I fingered him a little, but once again smelled his fecal matter, and switched to giving him a hand job. He's tried to come over a few times since then, but I make up excuses why he can't. If you're going to bottom, it's considered proper form to douche first; it's one thing if you're dating and it's a spontaneous endeavor, but shit-dick isn't pleasant for anyone, especially a random Grindr hookup. Just to PSA to all the bottoms out there: douche your ass!

During that period, I matched with a hot guy on Tinder named Tyler. He was a former boxer; muscular, very masculine, with reddish blond hair and beard. I thought that he was a bot - a fake account trying to scam me - but it turned out that he was an actual person. We met up the first time a month or so after Jay and I had our disastrous sex. I figured since Tyler presented as straight that he would just want a blowjob, or maybe to top me, but I was surprised when he kissed me and willing sucked my dick. After we'd both orgasmed, he told me that he was recently single; that he'd found out that his girlfriend had been cheating on him. "I don't get how she could just lay with another man like that," he'd said, which I found incredibly odd. Why was he talking Biblical like that? The next time we hung out, he came over late at night and tried riding my dick; it turns out, getting ridden does absolutely nothing for me - no matter who is doing it. He rode my dick for two hours, dripping cold sweat on me before we gave up. We hookup once or twice a year; we kiss, jerk each other off, sometimes exchange head. The last time he visited, he was on top of me, kissing me passionately; I felt his hard cock against my hole. For some reason I was not privy to, the idea of getting topped by Tyler turned me on, but if I had learned one thing from my escapades with Jay, it was that going in unprepared was not a good idea. "Are you trying to fuck me?" I panted against his lips, my hands on his strong, muscular shoulders.

"Yeah," he replied, kissing me with more desire. His cross necklace dangled against he light spattering of strawberry blond hair on his chest.

"I've never bottomed before," I told him, figuring that it was best to be honest.

"Oh." He moved from off of me and started sucking me. One thing that I've always loved about him is how warm his mouth is; how turned on I get by being with him. It usually takes me quite a while to cum, especially when I'm nervous or anxious, but with Tyler, it's always quick I get turned on him in a way that I rarely do with anyone else. It's not like we have much of a relationship; he hits me up - or I hit him up - he shows up, we do our thing, and he leaves. There's no unnecessary conversation, no cuddling - not since that first time. Something about him just does it for me.

The last time that Tyler and I hung out, he told me as he was leaving that he no longer lived in my area; he'd moved downstate and had a baby with a girl - I assumed a girlfriend as opposed to a casual hookup. I was disappointed; I'd really liked having him nearby for when I was in the mood, and I'm not sure how I feel about being with him now knowing he has a girlfriend. Obviously, it didn't bother him, but I couldn't help but wonder if he remembered whining to me that he'd been cheated on; was it okay in his eyes because he was a guy?

There were a few late-night hookups with Santiago during that time, but nothing meaningful. One of the more memorable trysts from that year was with a college baseball player named Rigo; he was young, hot, and athletic. Normally I'm not into long hair on guys, but his thick black curls were gorgeous; I wish I could have said the same about his crusty moustache. While I support a guy's right to some facial hair, when it just looks like wiry, scraggly pubes, I'm not about it. When Rigo came over, he told me not to get attached, that he wasn't gay, he just got head from guys when he couldn't get it from girls; I understood and didn't judge. I found it hot how bossy he was, telling me how fast to go, how deep; I loved running my fingers up and down his washboard abs, watching through my lashes as he gasped with pleasure and his eyes rolled back into his head. When finished in my mouth I almost gagged from the horrible taste of his semen. Nothing ruins head for me more than funky spunk or a dirty dick. In my experience, straight guys have the worse tasting cum, but that could be because gay guys - or at least good gay guys - know to drink pineapple juice and eat foods that make their cum taste sweeter. It's a shame that I'm so drawn to straight guys.

Shortly after that wild year, my sex life died down again. Occasionally I meet up with the guy down the road that I lost my virginity to, but he doesn't fulfill me. While his ass is the tightest ass I've ever fucked - it's absolutely amazing - he is not remotely attractive: he's short, chunky, and bald, resembling a human naked mole rat. He lets his best friend's kids live with him - I forget why - so it's a rarity that he has free time to do anything sexual. The last few times he's invited me over; I walk into his house to see his fat, naked body bent over an ottoman. I wish I could say that I focus on how amazing his ass feels, but lately it's not even enough to turn me on; I've fingered and jerked him off the last two times and left.

I'm at a point now in my life where sex has lost a lot of its importance in my life. I'm perfectly content with the occasional blowjob, but I don't pursue more. The guys that I would consider having a relationship with aren't interested in anything other than sex, and the guys who want to date me have absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever. Life's a bitch like that. I wish that I could just enjoy hookups, but I'm learning that I need that romantic spark to fully enjoy the experience and I can't have that with just anyone.

I look back at my twenties with a mix of shame and regret. When I was in my prime in my early twenties - still incredibly skinny and deluded enough to think that I was going to be able to be a normal person - I was convinced that I only wanted hookups, that I didn't want to be tied down with relationships, but once I had had a couple of random encounters, it became painfully clear just how much I had underestimated my anxiety. I wasted so many years being afraid to experiment and experience gay culture and sex while I was young and still relatively in shape. Maybe if I'd taken measures to see a therapist and get on an anti-anxiety medication back then I would have been mor willing to leave my comfort zone and explore; now I don't even want to go to the post office. At my age, no one really wants me, and the guys that do have a better chance of contracting polio than touching me.

I'm now closer to forty than I am to twenty; I've put on fifty-five pounds - all in my stomach - and my anxiety has only gotten worse. It's hard for me to do hookups much less go on actual dates; I like the idea of a relationship, but I'm not sure that I could handle the reality of what that would actually entail. I don't want sex to be a method of validation for myself, but I know that I'm hardly a catch these days, not that I ever was. All I can do is keep doing what I'm doing, hope for the best, and if the right guy comes along, be willing to leave my comfort zone, to see if maybe my version of happily ever after truly exists or is simply a fantasy.