Sunday, October 16, 2011

i'm no poet

i'm no poet

Came across this Montreal sex and neuroses blog today. I found it gripping. I find the author fascinating -- I stalked him on facebook, which led me to his blog. I'd love to do him, but he'd probably run away. Partially because neurotic sexaholics always run away from men who want them, right? He's a real individualist, which I love.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The smell of a sauna

Went for a swim this eve, first one since before the summer. As I walked through the door, the smell of sauna wafted up my nostrils. That smell -- like so many others -- always makes me think of sex. Sex in the sauna at the Y and all the other gyms I used to go to. And sex in this sauna 25 years ago, when I lived with my parents for a year while in grad school in the same apartment and townhouse complex on Nuns'Island, just "10 minutes from downtown!" as the ads say.
   Back then I swam religiously, usually at the end of the day during adult hours (for one thing, no kids in the sauna), and always enjoyed a good schwitz. Sometimes I got lucky. A few of them married men. They're the best -- always so hungry for cock. One of them -- about my age at the time, 30 -- seemed to hold in his need for cock for so long that he was ravenous by the time he let the dam break lose. He used to really go to work on my dick. Once, when my parents were away, I took him to their townhouse. "Take your coat off," I said, when we got in. So he did. Then his shirt, and his boots, and his jeans, so that he was starkers in my parents' front hall, as I ran around closing the blinds. Then we did it there in the hall, standing up, then rolling around frantically on the floor. He was a bit rough, in a horny kid kinda way. I always got a kick out of him.
   Nothing like that happens now. Yet. I have to admit, I haven't been that often. Tonight I thought the pool was empty because I could see through the window that the water was calm. But once inside, I same across a young guy texting beside his locker. Late 20s, knee-length trunks, and just the hint of bum crack. I got a look at his face chest eventually: cute and scruffy, with a very sensuous amount of body fat, the kind you can bury your face into. He probably thought he was fat. Some scruffy brown chest hair, too.
   In the pool, he frolicked like an otter, diving and swimming underwater. Once he swam the whole length of the pool underwater. He wasn't there for laps, just some fun. He didn't stay long. 

   He went into the changing room where the sauna is. I swam some more, waiting to see if he came out. If he didn't after a few moments, I knew he was in the sauna. And if he was, maybe... So I went in. He was in the sauna, all right, but so was another man, about 40-something. His vibes were all off, and the young one left first.
   Leaving the sauna out into the cool October night, I could smell woodsmoke from someone's fireplace. I'll check it out another time. I'm older now, but more patient. All I want is to give some guy a good blowjob. As I passed a man on the drive, I thought, wouldn't it be nice if you could just ask a man if he's like to get one? And his answer would be yes, no or maybe later. I know there are so many men who would like that. Who doesn't?