Posts Tagged tan
CK and I were having a very long holiday weekend, and we were only half way through it. As CK wanted to go to the Scissor Sisters concert on Friday, which ended up happening on Saturday, I wanted to spend the weekend with my friends as well. We made plans before the weekend kicked off, and we were going to try to stick to it.
Early Sunday morning, CK and I woke up and quickly got ready for the day. We hopped on my motorcycle and made our way to Hoboken. We were catching a ride with K to her parents’ house on Mohawk Lake. Since it was an hour drive, K wanted to leave early. Of course, we made it back to Hoboken and finished getting ready just in the nick of time to stay on her schedule. K’s roommates, D and G, and D’s girlfriend were also joining us. The five of us were spending the day on the water, tubing, swimming and lounging in the sun.
When we arrived at the lake, we visited with K’s mother before prepping the boat. We all piled in, along with all the proper refreshments, and shoved off the dock. I was excited for a nice relaxing day on the lake. The weekend was off to a bit of a chaotic start, and I needed a day to hit the reset button. Everyone else was drinking, but that was the last thing I needed. For me, the sun was all I needed to be happy. I just wanted to lay out on the back of the boat and work on my tan.
Before breaking out the tube, we drove to the far side of the lake to drop anchor and hang out in the cove. The water was smooth, and there weren’t many people out on the lake. In usual fashion, wherever CK went, so did his music. We weren’t even out of the dock before he was plugging in his music. I wasn’t opposed to music in general, but he was playing all the songs we’d heard the night before. I could also tell, Scissor Sisters weren’t exactly my friends’ cup of tea. However, this was not something I was about to engage in. I found my happy place, laid out a towel, and tried to drift off in the warmth of the sun.
When I got hot, I decided to hop in. Everyone else had already taken a dip. It was the perfect Sunday. Everyone was relaxing and just enjoying themselves. We all talked about our weekends and caught up with each other. I’ve always liked this group of friends. They all felt like my “Seinfeld” crew. On top of that, I had my man with me. That always makes me happy.
When we were all hungry, we drove to the other end of the lake to grab a few slices of pizza for lunch. When we all finished eating, we snapped a few fun and patriotic pictures on the boardwalk of the lake.
Once we all managed to digest our food, it was time to break out the tube. K was an experienced whip cracker. Everyone took turns riding the tube with a partner. It was a blast. In her usual fashion, K was relentless when I was on the tube. I think I frustrate her sometimes, and she uses that time to take all those frustrations out on me. However, I usually manage to hold on for longer than expected. That being said, she always finds a way to get me off that giant rubber floating donut.
I especially had a lot of fun riding the tube with CK. We made a great team, and my friends snapped quite a few great shots of us both. I was happy to have such a nice day after how bad our Friday night was. We really needed a nice day together.
It wasn’t all smooth sailing however. Over the course of the day, I noticed K getting frustrated with CK. She was not only the owner of the boat, but also the captain. He wasn’t listening to instructions very well. When she was ready to hit the throttle, CK was standing on the back of the boat. When she’d need to maneuver to circle back to pick someone up who fell off the tube, he was standing to change the music. I was worried we wouldn’t be invited back again. Or worse. I would be, but I wouldn’t be able to bring him back again. I asked him to be more conscientious about her directions. “Whatever she said, goes,” I added.
When we were all sufficiently exhausted, we made our way back to K’s parents’ dock. We had a bit of a drive ahead of us.
D had his new car with him since he drove separately. I had yet to be in it, so I suggested CK and I ride with him, leaving the other two to drive together. On the ride home, we all planned to hit up D, K and G’s apartment for a bar-be-cue. It would be our last hurrah of the holiday weekend before heading back to work. D dropped us off at my place, and we got ready to head over to grill up some burgers. I quickly made a pasta salad as well because I didn’t want to show up empty handed.
I wasn’t originally aware, but we were also going to meet K’s new man. He is much younger than the rest of our group, and as a result, he spent the better portion of the evening trying to impress us. That’s a surefire way for me not to be impressed. I like genuine people, not people who put on airs and say what they think I want to hear.
Dinner was nice and very relaxing. It was the perfect end of the holiday weekend. My weekend started off very crazed and chaotic, and it ended very relaxing and serene. When it was getting late, CK and I said our goodbyes and made our way back to my apartment. I agreed to spend the night in the city at his apartment, so I quickly packed a bag before we hopped on the bus.
When we got to his place, neither of us had much energy. We quickly settled into bed and mentally prepared for the workweek coming up after having quite a few days off. CK tuned into The Rachel Maddow show while I shut my eyes and tried to fall asleep in the arms of the man I loved.
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I am very fortunate to have amazing friends that come with amazing perks. It just so happens one of my friends’ parents own a house on a lake with a boat. In the summer, if I’m not worshiping the sun on the beach, you can find me relaxing and fooling around on the lake. Either way, I gotta work on my tan!
Saturday evening, CK and I were invited to D and K’s backyard for a barbecue. While there, we were also invited to join a small group on K’s boat. I’d been going out there for years with her. I was the Gilligan to her Skipper, however, I’d like to think I was a little more helpful. I’d actually become quite versed in some of the crucial acts of boating through my trips out to the Lake with K. She even joined me when I bought a Groupon to learn to sail. For her birthday, I bought her a life vest I happen to see on sale in a store I was in.
As this wasn’t the first time I’d been on the boat, it wasn’t the first time I brought a man with me. In the previous summer, I was very excited to integrate N in my friend circle. While I don’t regret this at all, looking back at the pictures leave a bitter taste in my mouth. CK and I were still going strong, and I knew these memories would erase the old. When I thought about the good times on the boat with my man, it would be with my Superman.
The downside of the lake is that we have to get up very early to go. It’s about an hour drive away, and the later we wait, the worse the traffic gets. CK and I had our fun before bed, and when the alarm went off in the morning, although groggy, we were on point. It took us a little time to get out of bed, but once we did, we were making moves. We fooled around and got frisky, taking our fun from the bed to the shower, all the while staying on schedule. I even had time to make us CK’s favorite breakfast burritos and iced coffee in a mason jar.
It turns out, we were ahead of the game. Let the record show, and I would like to repeat: We were not only on time, we were early — A feat worthy of praise. When I called K, she was just waking up. She told me she’d swing by in fifteen minutes to get us. In the meantime, she called all the other girls who were coming with us. They were taking much longer to get their act in gear. K picked us up and drove up to my sister’s apartment, where she and two other girls were preparing.
Apparently, they were having a rough morning after a long night out. I was really relishing my reasonable exit with CK. We waited so long, I finished my burrito. When I opened the car door, tragedy occurred. The mason jar containing the iced coffee for CK and I shattered on the sidewalk. My mind immediately shot back to CK’s comments in my kitchen: “Why are you putting it in a mason jar?” I turned to him immediately and said, “I should have listened to you! DAMMIT!”
After waiting for over 45 minutes, my sister emerged. Alone. We waited all the time to learn the girls were sick and not joining us. Regardless, we were on our way. The four of us made our way out to the lake for a day of fun.
We all hopped on the boat and got it ready to shove off. We lounged… We tubed… We swam… We had a blast. I was really enjoying my day with my man in one of my favorite places. I couldn’t take my eyes off him all day. His package looked amazing in his trunks, and I let him know it. When no one was looking, I would give it a gentle squeeze. I couldn’t wait to get him home and ravage him! K was driving the boat while CK and I rode the tube together, swerving and “cracking the whip” at every opportunity.
When we finally fell off the tube, she circled around to pick us up. She asked if we could drop anchor and relax for a bit, but told us she’d tow us to the end of the lake where we can drop anchor. While being tugged along, CK and I were horsing around. I began to slip, somewhat by accident, and somewhat on purpose. As I slipped, I grabbed onto his trunks. I knew exactly what I was doing. This wasn’t a survival action — This was a horny action. As I gripped his shorts, they seemed more attached to me than him. His bare bottom was exposed to the sunlight. It was all I could do to stop myself from pulling myself back up so I could give it a gentle bite. It looked purely spectacular in the sunlight. He wasn’t too thrilled I was doing this to him, but I was in heaven.
Many times on the lake K mentioned a restaurant on the way home that has a very cheap lobster meal, but we never had the time. At the sound of this CK made sure we had the time to stop. The meal was delicious and we had fun.
For the rest of the ride home, I laid in CK’s arms in the back of the car. I was always happiest cuddling in his arms. We made one pit stop on the way so I could buy us all Sonic ice cream since I was craving a sweet.
That wasn’t the only sweet I was craving. I was struggling to keep my hands off my sweet all day long. K dropped us off at my apartment, and I was finally able to exercise my hormones and my libido. We had a long exhausting day at the lake, so we didn’t have the most energy, however, we weren’t going to let that stop us from an evening romp in the sack…
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CK and I were about to hit our two-month mark. It was two of the best months of my life, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I learned I could truly find love in a man, and slowly but surely, I started to give more and more of myself to him. The wall I built up around my heart was not only cracking but also crumbling. There were a handful of guys in my past I had come to enjoy the extended company of beyond a hookup, but CK was the first man I ever really came to love.
My life was no longer my life. There was no longer a me. It became our life and us. I stopped making plans for one. CK was front and center in my thoughts at all times. We were living together in two homes. We were dining together, drinking together, taking trips together, etc.
CK’s move to an apartment with roommates allowed him a new cashflow he hadn’t had before, however, I was trying to prevent us from blowing that on going out to dinner in the New York City. It’s not cheap, and if we were going to build a life together, he needed to start saving. I wasn’t thrilled with spending all that money going out to eat either. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford it, but we felt it was a bit of a waste. When I was living on my own, I made dinner for myself almost every night. Going out to dinner felt like a luxury and a treat. I wanted to get back to that. We both agreed to live more economically wherever possible. Since CK isn’t the biggest cook, I even started making food and taking it to his apartment so we could have convenient meals prepared. For instance, one night after work, we grabbed some groceries and thawed the frozen spaghetti sauce I made for dinner. We cooked together in the kitchen and ate in front of his TV. It was nice, it was cheap and it was delicious. That meal cost us pennies compared to what we’d spend going out to an Italian restaurant. We were also taking advantage of Groupons and Living Socials whenever possible so on the nights we didn’t feel like cooking, we could grab a nice dinner out and not pay full price.
As a gay man, I’m not quite as mirror conscious as some, but I am a bit vain in some aspects. I love how I look with a great tan, and I love it even more when my hair has a bit of depth and volume. Sadly, a few years ago, my hairline started receding. There was little I could do to prevent it, so I did what I could to mask it. That meant getting my haircut in a certain style, but it also meant highlighting it so it wasn’t one solid color against my scalp. This is one of my few gay vices.
Since I was in junior high, I stopped going to my father’s barber and started going to my mother’s hair stylist. Granted, since moving away from home, I didn’t go home every time I needed a haircut, but I did make it a point to go home and get it highlighted periodically throughout the year.
My hair got naturally lighter in the summer, so before the sun worked its magic, I would always try to trek home for some carmel colored highlights. My hair stylist was a magician. He never measured, but he always got my color just right. The one time I was left under the heat too long, everything slid to the back of the cap, bleaching the back of my head. He managed to dye my hair back to it’s natural color. You couldn’t tell anything went wrong.
My hair stylist also charges me a measly $30 for the highlights and the cut. Granted it’s in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, but it would cost more over $100 to have this done in New York City. Whenever I get my hair cut by someone in the metro area, they ask about the highlights. They compliment them, and I get a big kick out of telling them how much I paid for them — Their jaws hit the floor.
It was particularly difficult to get home before the summer sun this year. My sister wasn’t being cooperative about trips home, so I had to plan something on my own. That meant hopping on the motorcycle and making the two-hour trek home (costing me $10 in gas). I didn’t want to give up my weekend because that was when I went to the beach with my boyfriend, but it was nearly impossible to get away during the week. On top of this, it had to be planned around nice weather. I couldn’t make the trip home if rain was in the forecast.
Summer was passing by, so I decided to take off a half day from work to get it done. After work Wednesday evening, I sped home trying to avoid traffic and made it to my parents’ house just before the sun went down. I found it very sweet that CK was worried about me. He was very concerned with my safety, even after riding with me on the bike many times. I was truly touched. I told him when I was heading home, and I texted him as soon as I got to my parents’ place. I told him it would take roughly two hours, and he was texting me worried after about an hour and a half. It showed me how much he truly cared about me and how much he loved me. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you babe!” he said.
CK was against the trip from the onset. He didn’t like the idea of me getting highlights, but I told him to have faith. He’d seen pictures of me in the summer and commented how good I looked. I promised him I wouldn’t come back looking like an a$$hole. I think he thought I was getting my tips frosted.
It was also nice to catch up with my parents and have a relaxing night in front of the TV with a home-cooked meal. The next morning, I woke at the crack of dawn to hit up the salon. In an hours time, I looked like a new man, and I was back on the road. I had to get back to work by mid-afternoon.
That night, CK saw me for the first time in person, after asking me to send pictures to his phone. He commented on how good I looked. “Babe, I was really worried. I thought you were going to look ridiculous,” he added. I gave him a big kiss and reminded him how I knew what I was doing, cheekily.
Even if I came back looking ridiculous, I’m sure he would have played along and told me I looked fine. We were in love, and my hair wasn’t going to change that. On the flip-side, I think the highlights worked a little magic and made me more attractive to him because, after being away from each other for a night, we had some great passionate sex before dozing off.
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Another Friday, and I used up yet another carryover vacation day. This one would kick off a staycation lasting over week long. I was beholden to no schedule and no one.
Once again, I woke up horny and turned to my go-to. I fired up Grindr and began to search for someone to satisfy the animal within. When over an hour passed by and had no luck, I turned to my computer. I checked adam4adam.com for any messages. I had a few, but no one seemed to be around for the day. I cast out a net to see what was out there. I began messaging some of the guys who lived in Hoboken and the surrounding area. Some of the guys were online, many were not.
After some time, I got some responses. I exchanged messages with a few guys, but they were all preoccupied or messaging me from work on their phone. This was turning out to be a bust, and I’d already wasted hours doing this. Geez, what was I doing with my life! But, I was still horny. Rather than turn to porn and finish myself off, I continued to search.
Then, out of the blue, a guy, who had messaged me many times before, sent me a message. He was horny and looking for fun. His profile was pretty bare, which is why I’d rejected him so many times before. However, this time I was a bit “desperate.”
I responded to his message and learned he lived close by. We talked about what he was looking for. I learned he was a “hungry bottom.” He was looking for some no-strings-attached action, and I was too. I told him to come by my place.
Half an hour later, he buzzed my apartment. When I answered the door, I was a little shocked. He was much smaller than he looked in the pictures. This is not at all what I was expecting. I don’t mean to sound racist here, only descriptive. He was a tiny little Mexican boy. He told me he was 29, but he looked about 18.
This is where I go wrong. Where I should be able to say, “Sorry. I don’t think I can do this,” I don’t because I feel bad they came all the way to my place. Why is this when the nice side of me decides to show its face?
I tell him to come in and show him to my bedroom. He immediately asks me again, “Are you clean?” I reassure him of my negative and clean status. I was a little relieved by his paranoia – It made for a stronger argument that he himself was clean and afraid of contracting something. At least I knew this guy was safe.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. With that, he undid my pants and began orally pleasuring me. He had a mint in his mouth, and this was certainly a new one for me. Everything tingled. I’m still not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. I’m also still not sure if he did it on purpose, or if he just happened to be concerned with his fresh breath.
After a short while, he turned around and began to grind his a$$ in my crotch. He asked me to get a condom and lube. He was bent over the foot of my bed while I penetrated him. He thoroughly enjoyed it. He told me to keep going until I finished. “I’m here to serve you,” he added. “I want you to finish inside me.” I wasn’t sure this was a request I could fulfill. I have enough of a problem finishing without the added hindrance of the condom’s desensitizing nature. I alternated between penetration and self stimulation to see if I could manage to finish, but it was no use. Finally, with the right combination, I ripped off the condom and finished all over his back, accidentally hitting him in the back of the head with a shot. He began to spread it around when I told him I would get him a towel. He didn’t seem to mind nor need one, but I insisted on wiping what was left of my DNA off his back. He was going to find it to be an incredibly uncomfortable ride home in the car if I didn’t.
He turned and asked if he could suck on my toes. I’d never had that request live in person before, but I was game. After my toes were thoroughly bathed, while he pleasured himself to no finish, he collected his clothes and got dressed. I saw him to the door, and with that, he was gone.
I felt so disgusting. I didn’t waste one more second before jumping in the shower. Everything I did was safe, but I still felt incredibly dirty. I needed to wash the shame down the drain as well. I found myself asking the question once again, “What the f*ck are you doing!?” I decided then and there I wasn’t going to turn this into a trend over my staycation. I was going to turn things around. This staycation was going to be all about me bettering myself. I was going to eat right, relax, read, tan, go to the gym… No more was I going to call random guys for sex. I needed to move on and stop giving myself excuses.
This was a fine plan. Now I just needed to stick to it!
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Finally feeling empowered again, I called my friends who also had the day off. We decided upon sunbathing on the pier in Hoboken. Ten pounds lighter (from not being able to eat) and one hot new bathing suit later, I was feeling sexy again. All I needed was a sexy tan to boot.
I arrived early, and as I lad my things out, I decided to write this entry while the emotion was still fresh. I sat down with my notepad facing west until I realized what I was missing. I had the cityscape 180 degrees away, and I wasn’t taking advantage. I turned around, literally changing my perspective, but in the process, I immediately changed my figurative perspective as well. This immense city lay before me in all its grandeur — the land of opportunity. The possibilities were endless.
I began to think, so many men and so little time. I’m 27. However, in gay years, I’m 1. This is my paradox. I’m ready to settle down to something concrete. Nearly 26 years of turmoil set the stage for all of this. I want a real relationship. I’m ready for love. True love. But like I just pointed out, I was still a gay baby. For me, I needed to be single. Not dating to find Mr. Right, but single. I needed to find my true gay self. Should Mr. Right come knocking, I wouldn’t be stupid and leave him standing on the porch or fight him off. But, I needed to stop trying to find him. It had to happen naturally. He would come to me when the time was right.
I spent the days leading up building a new roster. It’s amazing. All you have to do is open yourself up, and men will come flocking. I was back to using Grindr to find men, not just passing time. The floodgates were open. Men from everywhere were throwing themselves at me. It was utterly flattering and just the ego boost I needed to get back to my old self.
As I sat, I also debated what I would say to N. After talking to many of my friends, they couldn’t believe I didn’t want to go off on him. That would be the expected reaction. But, I was better than that. I already felt vindicated. I had hard proof my mistrust was justified. I not longer felt so manipulated. Even if he didn’t act on his desires, he was seeking out the company of other men. If it could have happened, I’m sure it would have. Consequently, I was so angry with myself for letting a man make me so upset. But that was over. He broke my heart, but I finally moved on.
So, I prepared the following monologue. I know it never goes as planned, but I wanted to prepare my thoughts at the least. I had a lot to say.
“I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t trust you anymore. The time you spend at the gym, especially after you told me what goes on there. The time you spend on Grindr ‘talking’ even in front of me. No one is ever on there just talking. Talking leads to things. How do you think we met? And after seeing you kiss that guy at the bar. And yes, I saw you kiss him. And even if you want to deny that, you were still exchanging numbers. All I could think about the rest of that night was how many other guys you were grinding on and kissing before I arrived at the bar. You’re not ready for a relationship, and I’m no one’s booty-call. I deserve so much more than that! Especially after how much of myself I’ve given to you. I hope we can still be friends, but I can’t continue down our current path.”
After talking with my friends on the pier, I planned what I would say when he denied everything. Not if, but when. I debated saying, “N. I have friends on Grindr.” But, my friends vetoed that. So my next suggestion was. “N. I know you haven’t been honest with me,” and leave it at that.
Now, I just had to wait to see him so I could have this conversation. However, I would not get the opportunity that night…
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