The possibilities are being narrowed down: there are two massage schools in town that I’m going to investigate today, and freelance web work.
That’s the result of
Thursday night found me hanging with
Friday, I made some biscuits for breakfast, and David gave me a bagel. John always has good coffee, so I had a cup.
Dressed and caffeinated, I headed out to the Chrysler and pointed her toward the Bay Bridge, anticipating the long silence of the drive down the 5 to Los Angeles where
Long. Silence. Alone. A more beautiful three words couldn’t have been written. Being able to be alone with my thoughts for several hours is a seldom realized blessing. I was able to process a couple of the issues weighing my mind down lately, including understanding some of my detachment about my recent break-up with Rick. I could feel a yawning abyss where my heart should normally be, yet paved over with the asphalt of indifference, everything seemed normal. A part of me wants to spare everyone the embarassment of seeing such acute pain. Part wants to try to forget about it as much as possible, but those surface reasons are driven by a fear that if I explore this dark hole, I’ll find those things – the manipulative teddy bear, who just wants to take advantage of those weaker than himself.
I reflected on the time I lived in San Francisco. Most of the guys I dated were guys who were just coming out. I like to tell myself (and everyone else) that I have pure motives – I want to show them that it’s a good, normal, healthy thing to be gay, and one doesn’t have to be wracked with guilt and/or shame. Now the results of such dalliances have all been positive: the men have gone on to lives of putatively normal gayness, more comfortable in their paths. I often felt proud of how they turned out.
What if that’s just a mask for fearing a healthy relationship with a man who is already out, comfortable in his own skin?
I must stop this behavior. I need to explore this fear before moving to another relationship. Anyway, back to the story.
When I arrived in Hollywood, Frank was not ready to traipse off to the springs, so we had dinner at Bossa Nova, a restaurant on the border of WeHo. The lighting (red and yellow flood lights) was dim, but the colors and the menu paper and ink colors negated each other out – it was nearly impossible to read the menu. I finally figured out that I wanted to try the BBQ chicken pizza (too sweet), while Frank ordered a cheese sandwich and some fried Yucca (tasty). After dinner, we went back to the apartment, watched 13th Floor, a matrix-lite shoulda-been-made-for-cable flick, and the making of AI. Frank confessed that he was too tired to go that night to the springs since he had been running around entertaining an out of town guest for the past week, and couldn’t we get an early start tomorrow? I agreed, and we slept.
Saturday, Frank introduced me to BJ, who runs http://www.sexpigs.com/, a moderately successful hook-up site. BJ is a stocky Lebanese man who is covered from head to toe with thick, black fur. When we got to his apartment, he was cooking us lunch – a 15-bean soup and cornbread, both of which were quite tasty. BJ showed my his site, asked me a few questions, and I invited him along for the trip to the Hot Springs.
Well, the trip was starting to get longer than I anticipated, so I bounced over to a local Big-N-Tall store to pick up a couple shirts. One of the salesmen asked me where I was from, and then asked me if I’d ever been to the Tower Cafe for their bean soup. His son is a law student at McGeorge, and when he comes back home to visit, always brings him home a big container of the bean soup. He asked me the next time I was down this way to bring him some soup. I told him that I would.
Back to pick up BJ, then off we sped to begin the 270 mile drive to the hot springs. Frank has an XM satellite radio receiver, so we listened to commercial free, cd-quality sound for the drive. I was amazed at how good it sounded. This BJ person is an easily offended sort, and took offense at several perceived slights. Frank made a couple of value-neutral statements about something or another, and this guy perceived them to be negative comments, and started to get defensive. Each time we calmed him down, but jeez!
We got to the springs at 2200, parked, and went inside. The bath is a cinder-block building with a walled in courtyard, changing area, showers, and two pools – the hot pool (50c) and the cool pool (temp unknown). The facility is a county-operated, mandatory nude public bath. It’s actually two buildings, gender segregated, but who cares about the other building, eh?
The place was hopping with retired men, a few mid-aged men, and us. About a half-hour into the soak, a pair enters the pool. The couple were from Las Vegas, had driven the 90 mile drive in their motor home, and were hot. Tom was silver-haired, with a small mustache, a solid smooth body, and a plump prick that promised girth. Frank was bearish, with a moderate dusting of body fur, dark hair, and one of those double-wide goatee beards that doesn’t have sideburns.
Now, I thought surely Frank and BJ would end up playing with them, since they both seem to be more aggressive than me about sex. But Tom kept giving me the eye, and I was giving it back. The cool pool emptied out, except for him and I, and somehow we were next to each other, his fingers finding my nipples. He stood up on the long shelf along the side of the pool used to sit and soak and, tweaking my nipples, guided his swelling cock to my mouth, while he peeked around the entry. I went to gobbling his girthy cock, electric shocks of nipple tweaking urging me on. A couple of times, we had to stop while someone or another would come into the pool. Each time, we just got up and went to the other bath. The crowd had dwindled down to just the five of us, but Frank and BJ had had enough of the intense heat, and dressed and went out to the car.
So, while we were enjoying our sex-play, Frank came in and joined us. He took Tom’s place at the seat, his prick wrapped with a rubber o-ring, purple and marble-veined. Frank was much more aggressive, and shoved his dick down my throat, grabbed the side of my head, and started pounding away. Tom, meanwhile, had gotten behind me and was working my tits like crazy. The door to the courtyard opened and we quickly disengaged. The fellow walked by into the changing room.
Next, Tom stood and I sucked him some more, while Frank got behind me and started to finger my ass. That was hot, but I wasn’t having a non-lubed bareback encounter, but the ass fingering was nice. He did try to penetrate my hole with his erection, but I told him that without a condom and some lube and a dry place, that that wasn’t going to happen.
More sucking. more kissing. more tit-play. more. more.
We ended up with me sitting on the bench on one wall of the changing room, Tom standing watch at the door, and Frank, his purple, bloated dick and balls ready, standing astraddle on the bench, holding the clothing hooks and ramming his dick in and out of my gobbling throat, while I pulled my pulsing dick to a gooey orgasm. Frank pulled out and shot his cum all over my beard and chest, which I rubbed in like lotion.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, except that BJ kept attacking Frank all night in the bed they shared at the Saddle West Casino Hotel in Pahrump, Nevada, which in turn kept me awake all night. I think Frank didn’t get to sleep much, either, and he finally relented and they performed a piggish act of sixty-nine upon each other while I took pictures with Frank’s digital camera. An hour or so later, they were at it again. They both have incredibly thick cocks, not terribly long, but very thick.
We checked out, got some breakfast at the Nugget buffet, and headed for home. We stopped at the China Ranch date farm, a much shorter dip in the hot springs, dinner at the Mad Greek Cafe in Baker, home of the world’s tallest thermometer, and then the drive back to Hollywood.
Monday morning. I awoke, feeling beautifully relaxed, and after a short snuggle with Frank, headed off for the next piece of silence – the drive up the 5 to Sacramento. That drive firmed my resolve to check out the massage schools in my area, and to figure out how to make the best of the non-corporate world.
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