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Month: June 2010

Sweet Mystery of Life

We turned out all the lights.

The ones in the rooms that faced the back yard.  The porch light.  The terrace lights.

And the pool lights.

We swam in the darkness.1

Under the full moon.

It was last Friday night, and the Attorney’s last night in his forties.

I even got him to go the full monty under the full moon.

Usually he is modest about casual nudity.  Even though he has a pretty smoking body for a guy turning 50.

I will skinny-dip in a heartbeat.  I have probably been swimming naked more times in my life than in trunks.  But, The Attorney always swims with his stuff under cover.

Even with all the lights outs, far from the front drive, and surrounded by tall trees and a privacy wall, he was still reluctant at first.

I called him out.

“Just because you are an old man now, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

That did the trick. He didn’t like being called old, and down the trunks went.

I pulled him to me in the water and we kissed until I grew hard against his naked thighs.

Train speeds through tunnel.  Waves crash.  “Ah, sweet mystery of life…” Fireworks.

Afterwards, when we were wrapped under a blanket shivering2 like two wet cats, he said the sweetest thing he ever has to me.

“Do you know how unhappy I would be if I turned 50 and didn’t have you?”

My reply:

“Old AND alone.  That would suck.”

I know I sort of threw water on his tender moment.  But he busted out laughing, anyway.

I watched him laugh and thought about how a lot of other people would have gotten bent out of shape if their partner made a joke in a similar situation.  But The Attorney understands how I use humor as a defense to deflect attention.

He gets me.

Really, we get each other.

Truth be told, I never would have picked out The Attorney as a boyfriend.

Not because I don’t find him attractive. Just the opposite.  I think he is very handsome and keeps himself in great shape.

But, I never would have seen myself with someone with his education, refinement, and class.  Even if I could have imagined myself with someone like that, I could never imagine them having an interest in me.

It’s still a mystery to me that he does.

A sweet mystery.

But, that’s life.

{ fin }

  1. well, as dark as you can get in the middle of a medium-sized city. []
  2. it’s amazing how quick your body temperature can drop after sex. []

Hey Daddy

“Are you meeting your son?”

That was what the hostess asked the Attorney one night when we were meeting at a restaurant for dinner.

I got there first, and while she was seating me, I told her I was expecting someone and described him not only physically, but as my father.

Before he could say no, she pointed me out.

“Is that him?”

He saw me grinning at him, holding back a chuckle,  and just accepted that I got him.  His dry “Hello, Son,” when he sat down at the table was pretty priceless.

Still, I wish that I had saved that practical joke for something like Father’s Day.

To many a casual observer, if they don’t already think we are actual father and son, we may appear to have a father-son/daddy-boy relationship.

Those folks couldn’t be more wrong.

I’m too independent and the Attorney is too youthful.

If anything we are more like brothers.

Or at least kissing1 cousins.  This is East Tennessee, you know?

Father’s Day has never been a big deal for me.  My father died a tragic death when I was a teenager, just a few years after my momma.  But, even in the years prior, very little of his sun shined on me because I was always in my brother’s shadow.

The Attorney has lost his father, too.  But much more recently than I did.  He also had a much stronger relationship with his.  So, the whole father-child aspect of life has more meaning for him.

I asked him the other night if he ever wished that he had kids.

He said that he has often thought about what it would have been like and what kind of kind of parent he would have turned out to be.

I think he would have been a good one.  Definitely better than me.  I just don’t have the nurture gene.

“Why,” he asked me. “Are you offering to be my baby daddy?”

Now, I’ve told you before that the Attorney is pretty square2, but you don’t know just how square until you hear him say the words “baby daddy.”

I told him that I am more than happy, willing, and able to go through the usual procedures for making a baby3, but I think our results will be poor.  Which is probably a good thing considering what a cocktail of our DNA might produce.  I don’t know what genes are dominant or recessive, but between the two of us, there is a high likelihood for tall, skinny, and big ears. 4

I could tell by the way he was thinking about the “what if” of children that he has/had a stronger desire for offspring than he is willing to let on.  Maybe it’s because his branch of the family name will end with him.  I feel some responsibility in that sense, too.  But, then I think about the crying in the night, the destruction of my belongings, and rebellion of teens, and I quickly get over it.

So, I’m going to miss out on the home-made cards, the ugly ties, and yet another pair of dress socks.

There are too many people who don’t realize they are not cut out for having kids.  Luckily, I am one of those who does.

{ fin }

  1. and fucking []
  2. as am I []
  3. again and again []
  4. Perfect if you are breeding giraffes. []

My Pride

Kelly1 at Ramblin’ Along In Life started a little tradition a few years ago of having fellow bloggers post the above picture and each of us tell our own story of pride.

For a lot of people, that has meant stories of coming out.

I never had a defining coming out moment.

There are folks in some areas of my life who know about me and there are folks in some other areas who don’t. More know than not.  And even more know as time passes.

I’ve always sort of dealt with my sexuality on a “need to know” basis.

I’m sure that by some standards, that makes me still closeted.

Maybe so.

But, at the same time, if someone was to ask me, I wouldn’t deny it.

It’s kind of how I am about my exhibitionist nature.  I’m not going to just toss it in your face, but if I know you’re trying to get a peek, I’ll let you.

Some would say that that’s not taking pride.

Not true.

It’s just who I am and how I am.  And I’m comfortable with it.

To me, that’s what Pride is about: knowing who you are and being comfortable with it.

It isn’t so much about demanding acceptance by others.

It’s self-acceptance.

That’s true acceptance.

And how it manifests itself is as different as each of us are as individuals.

My life experience is not your life experience, nor is your life experience any one else’s.

But none is more valid than the others.

In that, you can take pride.

I do.

{ fin }

  1. who has very sexy legs []

A Moment With Hugh

When I saw this picture, I imagined that he had just turned to me standing behind him and said, “What do you say we have a pash1 right here on the rooftops, mate?”

Oh, and the answer would be yes! 2

{ fin }

  1. I learned that word from Brenton []
  2. you should see THAT picture. []

Tit Man

So, I’ve had that poll over in the sidebar for a while now.  I closed it recently, but for about 3 months or so many of you gave your input.

Not surprisingly, “the package” is, by far, the place on a guy that most of you eye-ball first.  I mean, the genitals are central to sexuality.  The dick is what makes us, at the most basic level, men.1 And  of you like men…well, there you have it.

The “ass” came in second.  It would have been the top choice on my ballot.

Since we’re just talking about looking.

When it comes to looking and touching, I’m thinking I’m more of a tit man.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love having my mitts full of a nice piece of tail.  But if I was to keep a tally, I’d say I’m copping a feel on The Attorney’s milk bags more often than his buns.

Of course, it depends on what we’re doing.  For example, when we are standing and kissing, I generally start with his backside.  But it doesn’t take long for one hand to slip under or inside his shirt.

When we spoon, I always have an arm around him with a firm grip on his opposite pec.

Same thing if I come up from behind for a sneak-attack snuggle. Whether it’s arms up around the neck and shoulders, or down under the armpits and around the lats, my digits are going after the sweater meat.

Although it’s something I’ve really just become aware of, I have come to realize it’s not a new trait in me.

It’s not a result of having a boyfriend with a great chest.

Thinking back, I was that way when I was young and messing around with girls.  All my girlfriends had big tits.

So, maybe having a boyfriend with a great chest is a result of my fetish.

Would I think so much of the Attorney if he was as flat-chested as me? 2

I’m sure I would.  No doubt.

He and I are about so much more than his chest.

But I’m not complaining about his ritual pre-bedtime push-ups either.

{ fin }

  1. Please, no debates about transgendered. []
  2. Thank goodness, I am.  I have enough trouble keeping my hands off of part of me as it is. []


I know the number is correct.

But it doesn’t sound correct when I say it out loud.


I just don’t think of myself as 35.

But, I am now.


I started to say that I don’t feel 35.

But  then I thought about people who say things like, “I don’t feel (insert age).”

How do they know?

They have never been that age before, so how do they know what it’s supposed to feel like?

And whatever the age, it must feel different for everybody.

So, maybe how I feel is how 35 feels.

My 35.

I would have thought this is more what 28 feels like.

That was 7 years ago, so I don’t specifically remember how it felt. But, I don’t recall it feeling much different than now.

I’m still healthy (maybe more so) and happy (absolutely more so) and definitely more sure of who I am.

So maybe 35 is just a better shade of 28.

That sounds correct.

{ fin }