This is the kind of stuff that we’ve experienced and wouldn’t want to remember if we can help it… but things that stay with us like forever and a dark day and while they mostly stay hidden in the background, ha, don’t they always seem to pop into your head when you don’t need them to?
I was thinking about my worst moments throwing down with a guy and, yep, I’ve had [more than] my share of them. As I sorted through when, where, what, and who, I also did some sorting to identify why those moments didn’t go as expected or anticipated and, whew, it is with great regret (but not really) that I have to report that some of my worst moments were due to poor judgement on my part, back when I didn’t know enough to trust my instincts and when they were telling me, “Okay, some sex would be nice right about now… but not with this guy, okay?”
As I sat and shook my head over those lapses of judgement, I felt that looking back at those moments could very well be biased at this point – were those worst moments really that bad and how do I define bad… and how did I define it in the past? I realized that the two definitions are different and mainly because today, I do know now what I didn’t know then, hence the possibility of bias. Still, I spent some interesting moments of reflection as I attempted to categorize my sexual faux pax and, um, wow, ain’t there a lot of shit that would qualify as a SNAFU – Situation Normal, All Fucked Up – or FUBAR – Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition? I laughed to myself because I could classify these things as straight-up clusterfucks, things that happen because what was planned, expected, or anticipated just went off the rails.
I thought that these moments could range from guys chickening out at the last moment at the least to discovering I was lying down with an animal masquerading as a horny guy; interspersed with in this range were all those moments I’d find myself in a sexual situation with a guy and fervently wishing I hadn’t been so eager to throw down with him; there’s nothing worse than having a guy pounding your ass and it just ain’t feeling good by any stretch of the imagination and I’m under him and silently wishing that he’d hurry the fuck up and cum so I can schlep off and lick my wounds – and add a few more by kicking myself in the ass for getting into that mess in the first place.
I thought about the moments that were really embarrassing, like one of us losing our erections at the wrong moment, or one of us taking dick too fast when the fucking began and somebody wound up tossing their cookies – and this includes those moments when a guy who thought he could easily deep throat me had his gag reflex beg to differ and he threw up all over me. In this category, it also contains some moments when I’ve cum in a guy’s mouth and for whatever reason, he couldn’t deal with the spunk and, yep, now he’s calling Ralph… and, yeah, I’ve had that happen to me a few times as well. I’ve even had some bad moments where I’ve successfully slurped down all the spunk the guy had to offer… and then found myself hauling ass to the bathroom and suffering through a bout of explosive diarrhea; the good thing here is that whenever this happened, I managed to literally put the shit where it belonged…
I thought about the times when things started out nicely, only to have a fight break out and, yeah, I’ll admit that I started the fight because of something the other guy said or did like calling me a bitch or, worse, trying to fuck me when I said I wasn’t gonna do that. Today I frown at these moments a little because, yeah, I’m gonna protect myself against those things I don’t want done to me but I’d be more of a mind to be, ah, nicer when I ask him to cease and desist instead of going all Bruce Lee on him in the blink of an eye. Today, I shudder thinking about how dangerously violent I was and almost regret those moments when I broke a nose or some fingers or even an arm… and as much I as did when I’ve dislocated shoulders, kneecaps or had to choke a guy out to subdue him and, once, snap-kicked a guy in the nuts so hard I thought I had killed him. But when I tell you “no” or tell you to stop and you don’t, well…
As I said in the beginning of this, I’ve had guys get to the moment of truth and can’t pull the trigger and, really, those moments were more unfortunate than what I’d call a worst moment; I’ve had guys pull the trigger, things are going swimmingly, and he suddenly decides that he can’t continue – certainly a cause for disappointment on my part but perhaps not quite a worst moment. I’ve had a couple of guys that were all fine and dandy throughout the sex, had them cum like they’ve never done it before… and go through an emotional breakdown and those are just so bad to have to witness. In a “sub-category” I’ve been in these moments when right after the guy busts his nut, that damned moment of clarity hits him and Guilt rolls him like a drunk – these moments are the worse. Then I’ve been in such moments where the guy experienced such a powerful orgasm with his release that it just overwhelmed him and/or scared the shit out of him and, yeah, okay, I’ve been on that side of the deal a couple of times as well; not exactly bad but perhaps just beyond it being “scary good” if that makes any sense.
I thought about the moments where everything went well from start to finish… and one or both of us are now wondering why it wasn’t as much fun as we thought it should be. Again, perhaps not a worst moment in that kind of a “oh, shit!” way… but more like, “What just happened?” or, perhaps a bit more accurate, “What didn’t happen?” Seriously, how did we just do everything we wanted to do and the way we wanted to do it… and then feel like watching paint dry would be more exciting than what we just did? Certainly, the whole act turn out to be anticlimactic even when climax was reached – just fucking strange how that happens, huh?
My mind rewound itself and started thinking about all those times when everything got going… and now I’m not so thrilled to be doing it; it was as if my switch got flipped to the off position and for no reason that I’ve been able to make sense of, let alone understand. How in the hell do you go from being totally turned on and hyped to get busy and then start feeling as if someone dumped a lot of ice-cold water on you? Now, today, I wouldn’t say that these particular moments were “worse” in a devastating or catastrophic kind of way but they are mysterious and, I guess, “bad” because I’d finish what I started, would have zero joy in any of it, and then find myself wondering just what the fuck just happened that made me go from hot to cold at the speed of thought and without a reason I could pin it on.
I thought about the few “there’s nothing worst than…” moments and, yep, being fucked in a way that just doesn’t make you feel good is right at the top of that list, followed closely by having your dick sucked by someone who has no clue as to how to suck dick. Yeah, sure, you can call it eating dick and even say that you’re feeding your cock to the guy but, damn, he’s not supposed to really try to make a meal out of your meat, is he? I learned to very much appreciate any time that anyone would be willing to suck my dick but I’d have to say that there’s nothing worse than having a guy chomping on your wood like he’s a beaver trying to drop a tree. Yep, I’ve endured blow jobs from guys who were doing their best to suck my dick, even the guys who have done it for the first time and they’re learning on the fly how to give a blow job… but those guys who kinda insist on using their teeth – and even when I’ve asked them not to – well, I guess there is such a thing as a bad blow job after all.
There’s nothing worse than a guy saying that he doesn’t want me to cum in his mouth, he doesn’t stop or let me get away from him (and without any violence on my part) when I tell him I’m about to cut loose, and now I’m shooting my load into his mouth… and then he gets mad with me because (a) I came in his mouth and (b) he swallowed every last drop. Um, how is that my fault when I warned you, you didn’t stop, and when I tried to remove you, you actually fought back to stop me from getting away in time? These are worst moments due to the argument that would take place afterward – and some of them were right on the verge of becoming violent – but when I’d hit the guy with the facts, he can’t explain why he didn’t heed the warning or why he wouldn’t let me get away from him.
There’s nothing worse than being disappointed or doing some disappointing of my own – it really doesn’t feel good but, then again, a lot of this can be chalked up to unrealistic expectations, like, just expecting the guy to know what to do to me and how to do it or him assuming I know these things about him and as if we’d been lovers since day one. I eventually learned that these things can’t be helped and that they’re gonna happen and then to not be all that disappointed but I also learned it’s difficult not to feel some disappointment or being miffed with myself because I couldn’t deliver in the way I wanted to or in the way he expected me to because, when it comes to sex, no one wants to fail at it, right?
That’s all for now – time to crank up the DVR and get caught up on my TV shows… but one more thing before I go: There’s nothing worse than getting caught in the act and, um, I’ve been caught twice back in the younger days and talk about feeling embarrassed and even humiliated being caught dick-deep in a guy’s butt or he’s dick-deep in mine! I don’t possess the vocabulary to fully explain how this really feels – my brain tries to do it, gets overloaded, and says to me, “Just tell ’em that it’s bad and let it go at that, okay?” In my mind, those two times I got busted in the act were much worse than when I was drugged and raped – that was easier for me to deal with than having to explain to an adult why there was some sex going on between two guys…