Obligatory 2018 Reflections

As is customary, I sit on the edge of one year overlooking into the next and I am overcome with reflection. It has truly been one of immense change and growth. It was this time last year that my husband and I had hit a very rough, rocky patch. For the life of me I cannot recall where I was New Year’s Eve. I never do though. More than likely we were at his sisters and we would ring it in after someone happened to notice “oh, yeah, Happy New Year.” (I just remembered, we did exactly this. Then I watched as her and my cousin-in-law got high.)

The months prior to that moment were tumultuous for my husband and I. After catching each other on Grindr, we discussed opening our relationship, as opposed to getting a divorce or separating. In turn, that lead both of us to bring two men into our orbit. He got himself a boyfriend and so did I. Yet we have maintained our relationship since. With this new reality brought a lot of truth to the surface.

In February we took a trip to visit his father in Palm Springs (which I find even more coincidental because it was when he went there during thanksgiving that I caught him on the app) and while out drinking he opened up to me about all of his secrets. Instead of being angry I was so overcome with relief that I treasure that night like a precious stone. My therapist has since said that I do it because it was a moment of vulnerability and intimacy. She’s right. It was something I had craved for so long. We had closed off to each other from any real emotion or truth. Since then it has been nothing but honesty, with me still having to fight old habits of keeping things to myself.

At the tail end of March the boyfriend and I made it official and we weren’t just casually hanging out.

Since then it has been one giant experiment. We’ve all hung out together. Even went on a weekend away in Vegas, for my husband’s birthday. Everything, for me at least, has been good.

I know there are people who question the longevity of this. Me being one of them, at times. What this year has taught me is that nothing is set in stone and nothing is ever what you think it’ll be. I have no idea where any of this is going (especially this blog) but I am thankful for the ride. I have the best co-pilots on this journey. They are the most patient and caring men that I feel I do not deserve. I am truly the luckiest man.


NaNoWriMo – Chapter 3

Mark looked at his phone one more time, just to see if his message had been read. He opened up stream of messages and saw his lone message “wanna breed this hole.” Down at the bottom, above the keyboard, showed the notification that it had been read, yet there was no response. His face flushed red hot as he closed it and chose to open one of the others, reading the same message. Each one showed the same thing. The only one who had responded had declined his offer.

He locked his phone and threw it across the bed.

Fuck these guys, he said, exhaling all the breath out of his nose.

It was just going to be a dull night, once again. All he wanted to do was get fucked. Isn’t that what the app is for, he kept telling himself. Recycling it through his mind until his rage grew in his chest. What was even the point?

He stood up, undressed and crossed the room to his computer. He had just resigned to the fact that he would have to help himself out. No one else was even going to bother. He opened the browser and type in a single w and the bar was filled with his usual go-to, amateur site. There he found messages. His heart gave a leap. As he scanned them, each one telling him how hot his videos were, but all of them were either in another state or a separate country altogether.

He opened up a video he had uploaded a couple weeks ago. He watched himself laying on his bed with his near naked body, lay on all fours, for the stranger to enter the room. His dick stirred to life. There was nothing he loved more than watching himself get used by an anonymous stranger.

A memory sparked at the back of his mind, the video from a week ago. He hadn’t even had the chance to watch it, what with his boyfriend coming home almost immediately after. That had been a close call. He didn’t know what Sergio would have done if he had come in at that exact moment.

The video was hidden deep in a Russian doll of files. At the very bottom he opened up the video and leaned back in the computer chair with a creak.

He watched himself in the usual pose, the orange glow of the street light filling his room more than the light on his nightstand. He got harder.

Somewhere in the distance the microphone picked up the soft click and shut of the door. Just like he got aroused at the anticipation of the stranger then he did again. Then there would footsteps and the slim frame came into view, the frame ending at shoulder length. The man removed only his jacket, and laid a hand onto his plump left cheek. He caressed it, while reaching out to grip the waist band of his jock.

Mark mirrored his moves of the video and wrapped his long fingers around his cock.

The man on the glowing computer screen, got to his knees and pressed his shadowed face in between Mark’s butt cheeks. The silhouette of the man ever-so-slightly rimmed him. Mark went into euphoric recall. He remembered what his wet tongue had felt like as he gently probed in and out of his hole.

The man reached under and up and began to slowly jerk him off.

Video Mark stretched his arms above his bowed head. He heard himself moan on the video and he could feel himself getting closer.

The stranger continued on in the same manner, until Mark’s voice and moans grew in frequency and pitch. He watched his back arching as he pushed himself against the stranger’s face.

Damn I was loving it, Mark thought as his hand picked up speed.

Just as he rose about to cum in person so did his video self. The only difference was he was beginning to glow yellow. His hand slowly came to stop as he watched himself turn into a light bulb, that then froze in time. The light that had shone from his skin leapt into the air forming a billowing cloud above him.

Mark watched with wide eyes as the stranger stood and scooped a handful of the gold into his hand and into his mouth.

Mark’s heart hammered in his rib cage.

The man went to take another swipe at the air, but stopped. He shook his head and returned to what he had been doing before. He resumed his actions and the light was pulled back into Mark’s body like someone releasing a tensed rubberband.

The room went dark and the camera went in and out of focus multiple times before the man finished Mark off, donned his coat, and left without saying a word.

The video stopped.

Mark stared at the still, final image of himself turning off the camera, not knowing what had at all just happened.

His mind whirred to life as he struggled to make sense of it. Who had that man been. His hand went to the mouse and he slid the single dot along the player bar. The stills of the video flashed by in jerky awkward shapes. He stopped right At the moment when the light had left his body. For a split second he saw the man’s profile, but nothing that jogged his memory.

Mark spun around in the chair and grabbed his phone from the edge of the bed. He opened up the hook-up app and began rooting through the messages. The video was two weeks old. He ran through the rolodex of images, and could only think of three men that it could have been.

This was the only time he wished he hadn’t messaged multiple people in one go.

He returned to the computer and watched it one more time, trying to make heads or tails of it as he watched it. He slowed it down, examined every scene pixel by pixel. But nothing he could think of made sense.

Opening a new browser, he typed in the scene that had unfolded and searched for any results but there was nothing. At least nothing that made sense.

Finally he returned to the amateur porn site and created a new file. All he could think of was that there was someone, anyone that could explain what had happened to him.

He titled his newest clip, “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?” In the short description he outlined the details to best of his abilities. Once he was satisfied with his explanation he sent it out into the electronic ether. There it would get the attention and answer he long craved.

Mark stood and looked around his room. Whatever had happened he found himself no longer trusting that he was by himself. He could sense that something had been taken from him, but what he wasn’t sure. The anger and frustration pulsed through him as he looked for some way to feel safe. For a brief moment he thought about contacting the police, but he waved it away almost immediately. What were they going to do? He couldn’t even tell them who it had been.

The only thought he could do was bunker himself down. He locked the deadbolt and the slid the chian, checked all of his windows and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Placing it on the bedside table he grabbed his found and wrapped himself up in his blanket. Once again, he returned to the trail of messages and he went through each and every one of them. One of the men there had to be the stranger.

He knew it was only a matter of time until the video was seen by the world. He would get his answer. It was just the waiting that cloaked him an overwhelming sense of dread.

Did they know I was filming? He thought to himself. And that single thought lit a fuse through his mind sending fearful question after another to his mind. He grabbed the knife at his bedside table and laid under the cloak of the blanket. There was no doubt in his mind he wasn’t going to sleep that night.

In the morning, as the sun was peeking between the high rises of the city, a key worked it’s way through the pins of the lock. The door thudded against the door.

“Mark,” said the voice of his boyfriend, “Open the door.”

Delirious from the lack of sleep Mark sat frozen in fear.

“Mark, open the chain now. I want to know what this video is about.”

Mark through the blanket off of him, set the knife on the beside table, and rushed to the door. His fingers fumbled awkwardly with the chain. He opened the door and hugged his boyfriend, happy he was finally not alone. Sergio, stood rigid for a brief moment before he pulled himself from his embrace and stomped into the apartment, dragging Mark with him.

“What the fuck is this video?”

Mark shook his head.

“Tarryn sent a video to me a guy fucking you.”

“Did you see what else happened?” his voice broke.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Sergio said, “You’ve been cheating on me. I saw the rest of your fucking videos.”

“But did you see what he did!”

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re a slut and I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Sergio ran through the apartment in flurry, grabbing whatever was around and shoving it into the gym bag he had retrieved from the bedroom closet.

Mark ran to the computer and pulled up the website. Down below the video it showed a total of a million views, over night. The comments below ranged from shock and utter disbelief. Some even claimed that he had better special effects than most big budget movies.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Sergio said from the bathroom. Rattling objects along the glass shelves.

“How did Tarryn find it?” Mark called.

“Check the fucking news.”

Mark instinctively opened another browser and there, for the whole world to see, was a story about his video begging for questions.

Word Count: 5,896/50,000

NaNoWriMo – Chapter 2

“You really don’t have to do this,” Aiden said, as he tried to stand and put his hands on Jon’s shoulders, and held him at bay.

Jon merely smirked and returned the favor.

Just as he thought, it was only a few seconds before Aiden was done. Jon straightened his back and smiled.

Aiden’s cheeks, already flushed, went redder.

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said.

He grabbed his shirt and put it on as Jon stood before him, still nude.

“Why are you apologizing,” Jon said, “That, to me is the highest compliment to my skill and ability.”

Aiden chuckled. “Sure, that’s what it means. Not at all that I am a man-boy.”

Jon waved a hand and batted the harsh words out of the air.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Jon put on his boxer-brief underwear.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Aiden paused, his pants at his knees.

“I was thinking about going home. I don’t need anything.”

“Oh,” jon said, “Okay. Well, you’re also welcome to hang here for a little bit. Maybe watch some tv. Wait and see if my audience shows up for the show. If he doesn’t then we cancel.”

Aiden smiled and buttoned his pants.

“Tempting,” he said, “But I think I’m going to split.”

Aiden slid as quick as he could into his shoes. He always hated the awkward banter after the whole thing. It was worse for him because he never knew whether he should stay or go. That’s why he had made his mind up a long time ago, it’s better to just leave. He took what he needed and their transaction was complete. There was no sense in trying to make something out of nothing, and even if it turned into more how would that even work? He was cursed, since birth, before he was even conceived. His family line was blighted since Lucipher’s rebellion.

As Jon, bustled around his tiny kitchen, Aiden was half out the door.

“Later,” he said, flashing a furtive smile.

He shut the door and was halfway down the hall before Jon could reply.

He pulled out his phone and texted his brother Gavin Knuth.

“Where you at ho?” His fingers tapped out. Right as he was about to slip it back into his pocket the alert chime of a single bell sounded.

“Take a wild fuckin guess,” gavin had sent back.

Aiden smiled at the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket and headed down the stairs to the first floor, where he hailed a cab.

Sitting in the back he closed his eyes and breathed. He could feel Jon’s human essence, or what some would say soul, pulsing through his cold veins, sending tiny sparks of electricity through his body. He could feel himself stirring back to life and he loved it. It was irritating and exhilarating all at once. It felt like he wanted to run a mile in under a minute, or punch through a brick wall, but that was just the initial high. He had learned to not act on the instinct to overindulge in unnecessary activity. He’d use it up and have to find another to fill the hunger. While that was fine when he was in his early twenties, pushing thirty-three he wasn’t ready for the endless hunt. Or the fact that while he was some form of the undead, he was dead to most in the gay community.

The yellow cab dropped him off adjacent to the alleyway where Rogue was located. His usual haunt. It was the only place in New York that was made for him and his ilk, the damned.

As he walked inside he found it almost empty, apart from the bar-tender Lag, a sixty-year old ghoul, with long beard and dark skin. He busied himself counting the cash in the til, while behind him, moping over a half-empty pint of lager was Gavin. His unruly mop of hair hung wild around his face, illuminated by his phone.

Aiden slid onto the barstool next to his brother.

“I take it things aren’t going well?” Aiden said.

“Of course not,” Gavin said. He dropped his phone and took a swig of his.

Lag turned and regarded Aiden, who pointed at the pint and held up two fingers. Without a word the bartender brought two glasses filled to the top.

“You know, I’m really tired of this modern age woman who is okay with meeting up with dudes, but then ghosts him.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Fuck, no,”  Gavin slapped a hand onto the bar. “I want to find fucking love.”

“That’s not something awarded to us, Gav.”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m tired of this ‘cursed’ bull shit we’re peddled every day. I don’t believe my life is stuck to this endless parade of women. I want a wife. I want kids. I am so lonely.”

“You get that’s never going to be our life, right?”

“Maybe not for you.”

“Do you really want to further this along? You’d really want to make another incubus or a succubus?”

“We could adopt.”

Aiden rolled his eyes.

“I thought Dya was the girl. We were hitting it off and then,” Gavin cut his hand through the air, “She just disappeared. It’s the same fucking story. Either they come in hot and heavy and freak me out or they get scared and fade into digital obscurity.”

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said. He put an arm around his brother’s shoulder, and rested his head.

“I know what I am, what we get out of life but, I want more. We’re deserving of love, Aid.”

“Ya, but at what cost.”

“Here we go with the fucking common sense.”

“I don’t want to ruin your dream, I think we deserve better and we will, but you have to take into account we don’t get to have love. Never. A long term relationship only ends with the one you love turning into a hollow, soulless shell.”

“That’s only if you fuck.”

“Could you have that kind of relationship?”

Gavin shrugged.

“I get sex isn’t everything, but for us it kind of is. If we want to live at least.”

“Sometimes I think Erik had the right idea.” Gavin put a finger gun to his head and pulled the invisible trigger.

“Don’t say that. Please. You know how much his death almost killed mom.”

“Dad, almost killed mom.”

Aiden frowned and pulled his arm away from his brother.

“Sorry,” Gavin said. “I’m just in a mood. What’d you do tonight?”

Aiden shrugged and shook his head.


The two sat in silence.

Aiden wasn’t ready to tell his brother about his escapades. It nearly killed him when he found out that his little brother was a big ‘ol ‘mo in the first place.

The bar door slammed open and in strolled in Keisha, dressed head to toe in white.

“Whats going on, bitches,” she said, making a direct line to Aiden.

She wrapped him in a warm hug and took the spot next to him at the bar. Gesturing to Lag for drink of her own.

“How’re you this fine evening?” Aiden said, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Tonight was the tits,” she said, “Trish, Angelica, and I all went out to High Bar for a few favors and a dance. It was incredible. The lads were gorgeous and honey I was beating them off. Well, not literally.”

“What mortal can avoid your mystique.”

“No one, my love.” She raised her eyebrows and winked.

The girl looked around Aiden at Gavin.

“Whats wrong with him? Lovesick moping again?”

Aiden nodded.

“Oh, piss off, Gav. Go do something else. Do someone else. You’re tears are wasted. Have some fucking fun, you’re fucking immortal for Christ sake. I mean, oops,” Keisha put a hand over her mouth and smiled mischeviously.

Then the woman pulled up her small bag, dangling on a thin strap, and plopped it down onto the bar with a thud, whereupon she dug through it to find a cigarette. She pulled it out, lit it, got one drag before Lag turned around, grabbed it from her lips and tossed in the trash.

“You’re no fun.”

“I don’t want to lose my license,” Lag said, returning to his business, which had evolved into the scores in the sports section of the times.

“You’re not going to fucking believe who I ran into tonight?” Keisha said.

Aiden raised his eyebrows.

“A mob of fucking angels.”

“No way,” Aiden gasped. “Where?”

“At High Bar!”

“What were they doing there?”

              “Fuck if I know. They showed up and me and the lasses got the fuck out of there. I don’t want to be around those schmarmy douchebags. Grinning with their perfect fucking teeth. Butter wouldn’t melt.”

               Gavin leaned forward to peer around his brother, brushing his hair behind his ear.

              “I heard tales that the angels are gearing up.”

              Both Aiden and Keisha stared back perplexed.

              “For the rapture? Judgment day.”

              Keisha groaned.

              “Please, they’ve been saying that one  since this ridiculous country was founded. Don’t tell me you’re buying into it.”

              Gavin shrugged and sat back to return to mope.

              Aiden stared forward. He had heard from his grandfather once tell them that when the angels arrived to start the rapture it was their time to end. It was foreseen by some ancient angelic deity that the winner of the war of souls would be God, and he would finally bring down his retribution upon Lucipher for bringing about the rebellion. He could still hear his grandfather  groan and say “if he was so powerful in the first place why didn’t he just end him then and there. God is all about the show. The pomp and circumstance. He’s a fraud.”

              He was doubly damned, at least maybe being a sexual soul sucker he could be forgiven by penance or sacrifice. But nothing could ever wash away the sin of choice to choose his life as a gay man, or at least that was what he had been peddled in his youth. There was nothing worse than the shame faith and religion brought to those unlike them. Their message was one about conformity and obedience. The damned were those of freedom and mistakes. Yet they were damned.

              These worries were nothing to concern himself with. Like Keisha had said, it was rumored to happen every decade for as long as time had existed. It was just brought up every millennia to revamp God’s failing hold over human kind, and to bring about the fear in the damned.

              “Where’d you go, love?” Keisha put a hand on Aiden’s shoulder.

              He smiled and shook his head.

              “thinking about cock again?”

              “Jesus, Keisha,” gavin growled.

              “Oh, fuckin come down from your high horse, you dick. You’re a goddamn incubus.”


Words: 4,196/50,000

NaNoWriMo – Chapter 1

              Aiden sat on his bed, his back up against the bedroom wall, hunched over his two generations old smartphone. His emerald eyes scanned the grid of serious faces and torso shots as his thumb slowly pushed them up on the screen, hoping that he could find the one that could be his next. Usually he never shopped for a suitor and instead chose to lie in wait and have them come to him, but he was hungry and could wait any longer. It had been almost three weeks since his last hook-up.

              His finger stopped, halfway up the phone screen, and then stabbed at the miniscule thumbnail for a larger look.  The photo of the man filled the screen. He had mahogany eyes, thick eyebrows, unruly black hair, and a thick bear that hid the furtive smile on his thin lips. Aiden’s mouth watered.

              He jabbed his thumb at the chat icon, curled himself forward over the glowing screen and moved his fingers into position.

              What do I say? Aiden thought. His brows met over the bridge of his pointed nose, as his right eye tugged at his cheek.

              There were endless options, he knew. He could be playful and see where that took him, or he could do what he had done countless time before, with amazing results, and just be sexually aggressive. He flicked back to the photo again and stared into his face.

              Nothing came to mind. With the swipe of his thumb the photo was shadowed by the text of the man’s profile. Littered beneath the bold, white headings were movie and pop culture references, the usual snide remarks about the superficiality of the app, and the most damning of all statements at the bottom “no hook-ups.”

              Aiden rolled his eyes and sneered.

              “Bullshit,” he snorted.

              He loved the challenge of pushing against the notions of one’s perceived moral standards. It made the prize all the sweeter.

              The phone vibrated and a banner appeared across the top of the screen, a new message from “DTFBTTM.”

              Instinctively Aiden went to the new message and read it, “Wanna breed my hole?” The disgust Aiden felt echoed out of his mouth as a groan. He shook his head. There was nothing he found less appealing than desperation. And this boy was the picture of it. Coincidentally he was also one of Aiden’s formers. This “Mark” and he had met a few times before. Aiden knew that another trist would push this kid over an edge he wouldn’t recover from.

              “Back-up” Aiden said.

              With a few taps he returned to the bearded face of “Jon” and his profile to read it once more. In those few moments a new quote appeared, a string of vaguely familiar song lyrics. Possibly from the musical Hamilton and the song “Helpess;” if Aiden remembered correctly.

              “Oh, look at those eyes, the skies the limit,” Aiden typed out and sent his message.

              He spun around and laid down on the bed, and rested his legs against the wall, as he waited.

              As the moments ticked by he felt a sense of dread well in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it wouldn’t work, he thought. Or maybe he had gotten the song confused with another musical and botched his entry point all together. But his inner self reminded him of the “hungry hole” waiting on the back burner. Pressing his lips together he shook his head. That would have to be a last-last choice he told himself. An eager companion was one thing, but leaving them a hollow and empty shell of a man was not ever an option for him.

              The phone shook and his heart leapt from his chest. His fingers fumbling as he grabbed the phone from his stomach and read the reply from “jon.”

              “Boy, you got me helpless,” the blue bubble held.

              Aiden knew he was in.

              “Down for the count and I’m drowining in it,” he texted back.

              The next came before he could send another.

              “Hamilton fan?” Jon wrote.

              Thank, Luce, I was right.

              “Isn’t it obvious? I sometimes hold sould out shows in my living room with exclusive, one show only, choreohgraphy.”

              “LOL” jon sent back, “Mine are usually poorly attended. Just have the one patron, and he just sticks around cause if he didn’t he might not get fed.”

              “Dog or cat”

              “Cat, his name is Senor Gatito.”

              “Any pics?” Aiden asked, confident of the answer. Sure enough a photo of a long haired feline with an unenthused expression appeared before him.

              “That was taken during encores. He wasn’t too happy.”

              Aiden’s brows lifted at the proper use of the word ‘too.’

              Another blue balloon appeared, “He was hoping for ‘Memories.’” There was a pause and a separate message appeared, “He was high on the nip.”

              Aiden waited, his mind trying to come up with a snappy response before he was beaten to the punch.

              “Any pics?” Jon sent. “The torso is nice but hopefully there’s more.” The next blue bubble said, “Unless you’re the headless horseman.”

              “No, they’re usually asexual,” Aiden responded, mentally patting himself on the back.


              Aiden sent his most mediocre face picture, with a smirk on his face and his green eyes reading ‘obviously.’

              It only took a second for a reply to appear, “Very handsome.”

              “Right back at ya,” Aiden wrote back with more confidence than he felt.

Then the conversation lulled. Aiden opened and closed the chat screen hoping that there was a just a lag, but nothing. He was beginning to worry that this might not happen.

“What’re you doing?” Jon wrote.

Aiden’s heart went into overdrive, that echoed reverberated through his limbs.

              “Chillin at home.” He replied, trying to come off aloof. “You?”

              “Preparing for the late night show, that is, if Senor shows.”

              Aiden smiled at the screen.

              This guy can commit.

              “Want to make it an ensemble piece?” Aiden responded without thinking.

              “Fuck,” he whispered, as he read and re-read his message.

              Minutes dragged by  before Jon finally replied, “As long as you don’t upstage me,” which was immediately followed with a screenshot of a map, and a red push pin showing his location.

              Aiden dropped his phone onto the bed and leapt from the bed and bounded into the bathroom where he hurriedly showered, brushed his pearly teeth, and doused himself in Burberry Brit cologne. He dressed in his most slimming and showcasing ensemble, for once foregoing the notion of underwear for a quick and easy reveal. Giving himself a look over in his cracked full length mirror, he dashed out the front door and down to the ground floor.

              “I’m on my way,” he texted back.

              On the street he hailed a yellow cab and once inside set off.

              Anticipation, adrenaline, and hunger flooded every inch of his body, his heart drummed against his rib cage, and his nose ran. Aiden brushed it away from the back of his cold index finger and sniffed the rest back up into his sinuses.

              The cab pulled in front of the brownstone builder and Aiden handed the man the cash, without even counting, and got out.

              Aiden opened up the app once more and found that Jon had messaged during the quick cab ride to add, “Third floor, #6.”

              The front door to the complex was locked, but adjacent to the door was a panel of names and numbers. Illuminated next to number six read the name “Jon Goshen.” Aiden buzzed the unit number and deep voice answered back, “Come on up.”

              The complex door clicked open and Aiden entered.

              The rhythm of his heart pounded harder up into his ears. His mouth went dry and his stomach started to turn. In only a few moments he would be full.

              Jon answered the door before Aiden could knock.

              “Hello,” he said with a false bravado that made Aiden chuckle and blush.

              “Evening,” Aiden said, tipping his head foreward to his host. “Did you audience show?”

              Aiden stepped inside the apartment.

              “I think he had other arrangements.”

              Aiden met Jon’s gaze and smiled. He tried to up the charm radiating from his chest, but when he looked into Jon’s eyes his heart skipped a beat.

              “Do you want something to drink?” Jon said. He turned and headed for the small kitchen.

              “Sure, whatever you got.”

              “Whiskey neat, okay?”


              Aiden spun on his heel to examine the space. A shag rug of gray and a darker gray took up the center of the room. Movie posters of every decade of cinema decorated the walls, and underneath the window to the fire escape, stretched a long, stout bookcase filled with a mixture of books, movies, and action figures. Most of the toys primarily villains, Aiden noted.

              Aiden turned around to find Jon carrying two tumblrs filled with the amber liquid.

              The host walked past his guest and took a seat, with a squeak of the springs, on the plum suede sofa. Jon set the glasses down on the coffee table, one in front of the empty spot next to him on the couch. Aiden took the hint and sat.

              “So, do you do any performances other than Hamilton?” Jon asked.

              The bearded man sipped his drink.

              “Sometimes I swing for the cast of Wicked or Bare. My favorites are the jazzy numbers.”

              Jon flashed a bright smile of perfect teeth.

              Aiden’s eyes locked gazes with him. It was then that he pushed the energy from his chest out to fill the room to it’s brim, that way there was no escape. He had to hurry, he could feel himself getting weak.

              Seizing his opportunity Aiden moved forward and locked his lips against Jon’s. A cool chill ran over his body as he opened his mouth and slithered his tongue into Jon’s warm mouth.

              Jon lifted his hand and cupped Aiden’s cheek, and matched his move with an arm around his back.

              There kisses rose in force and entensity as the found and fell into the other’s rhythm.

              Aiden, not breaking their bond, moved his knee onto the couch and laid Jon onto his back, he head rested on the arm of the sofa. Pressing just enough of his weight against his partners body to feel the jump of excitement. Aiden knew there was no turning back. The power of his lips was working. He could feel Jon’s energy and temperature rise. Their dance rose in measure.

              Jon tried to parry Aiden back, but it was then that he found his partner removing his shirt to reveal the thick, soft black hair on his chest and small belly.

              Aiden straightened his back and removed his own, taking note of Jon’s intense gaze on him.

              Next were the pants.

              “Wow,” Jon whispered, as he found his partner already bare.

              Aiden rushed to remove the final garment.

              The two wrapped their libs around the other, locking the kiss.

              Aiden rushed with relief, he knew that there was enough for a large piece in the end.  This could hold him over for month. The prospect accelerated the excitement.

              Aiden broke their lip-lock and kissed a path down Jon’s chest to one his soft brown nipples. His tongue slid out and over it, sliding a thin coat of saliva in a counter-clockwise circles. He jumped to the other for only a moment, and then continued kissing him down his stomach.

              Jon gave a breathy laugh and jerked upward as if shocked.

              Aiden continued undeterred to Jon’s swarm cock, pressing against Aiden’s smooth chest. The head of which bumped into Aiden’s chin as he looked up into Jon’s eyes. He flashed a half grin before looking down and taking him into his mouth.

              Jon writhed beneath him. His long fingers and sweaty palm fell onto the back of Aiden’s head, guiding him up and down.

Jon’s tempo rose and Aiden knew the moment was close. He glanced up at his face with an expression of excited calm, his eyes closed.

Aiden moved faster and faster and as he did the body before him began to emit a faint glow that rose. The gold light seemed to darken the room around them, submerging the pair into a spotlight.

Jon took charge for a brief moment and said, “I’m going to come.”

In a flash of light Jon filled Aiden’s warm mouth with himself and time froze. The golden glow that had risen from the depths of Jon exploded from him and gathered in a haze around him.

Aiden swallowed, straightened his back and then stood above Jon’s still form in mid coitus. On his handsome face a look of pure joy. Aiden ran a hand on his bearded cheek and then bent to plant a single kiss.

Aiden stood straight and gathered a small collection of the golden light and balled it into a bite size snack. He tossed it back and swallowed. A warmth spread from his chest like a summer breeze down his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. He gauged the remains of the golden haze and, determining that there was more than enough there, he made one more morsel and ate.

The incubus sighed in relief and closed his eyes, enjoying the pieces of Jon’s soul.

Aiden returned to the apex of Jon’s legs. Once again he wrapped his mouth around his still stiff dick and continued where he had left off. As his head slid up and down time resumed and what light was left was sucked back into Jon’s body as if it had never been removed, returning the room to a darker dim than it had been before.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jon said with a laugh, pushing Aiden away from him.

Like every man the incubus had met, he was sensitive after climax. Aiden smiled a playful, wicked smile and sat back, as he surveyed the beautiful man that laid before him; his head against the arm rest, his arms limp at his side. It was bitter sweet because he knew the end was at hand. Aiden smiled and started to gather his clothes.

Jon sat upright and grabbed Aiden’s hand.

“What’re you doing?”

Aiden furrowed his brow. “I’m leaving?”

Jon smiles and shakes his head.

“That’s not how this works,” he says, as he rises and spins Aiden around and nudges him onto the couch.

Wordcount: 2,390/50,000

Tales of Pink-Eye and Cancer

My this has been one hell of a week.

It began on Monday where I made an eye appointment because my eyes were red, itching, and would not stop crying. I was certain when I made the appointment with the optometrist that it was probably pink-eye. The doctor however looked at my eyes and deemed it allergies. I was skeptical because I have had allergies my whole life and never had I experienced JUST a reaction in my eyes, but as he was the “professional” I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The following day, Tuesday, I finally had scheduled a CT scan that I had kept putting off because I had no time to do it. My work schedule has been (and is) hectic, so I never had the time but I figured that since I was so panicked about the blood in my underwear (coming from somewhere it should not ever if you’re a dude) I should make the appointment and follow through.

I went for my exam and during the procedure while they were injecting the dye into my vein it collapsed and instead of coursing through my body, probably, about half of it went into my right bicep. So for a couple days I had a bulging arm, much like popeye. After the procedure I felt silly going because I hadn’t had any further symptoms from the initial shock (aka blood.)

By Wednesday, the “allergies” only got worse and so I made a very quick follow up appointment. While rushing to that I get a call from my doctor. They had gotten back the results of my CT scan and it showed that my spleen and my prostate were enlarged and I was being referred out to a urologist for further examination.

After that lovely phone call, the optometrist (now a plucky, quirky young woman) told me I did in fact have viral pink-eye, the super contagious kind. This was after touching my eye with her bare hands (Smart) and swabbing my eyes with a giant q-tip. The cotton swab must have been just for fun because she did nothing with it and never mentioned it was being sent anywhere for testing. Her answer for my diagnosis was “good luck” and a referral to another optometrist.

Later that same day I got a call from the Comprehensive Blood and CANCER Center. They were following up because I was referred to them by my general practitioner (GP). They needed info to get the ball rolling, one piece of which was my blood work I had done the week prior.

The following day they called again to schedule a consultation for November where I (imagine) will be told I have prostate cancer.

To be fair, I don’t know this to be my prognosis. I am making a giant assumption but all the signs point to that and just like my certainty of having pink-eye I am certain that this is the case.

A few things come to mind, one of which (if there is one) god has a sense of humor. Prostate cancer is slow but trying to cure can result in sexual complications. I won’t die from this cancer, it will just kill any semblance of ever having sex again without the aid of a pump (hard pass).

I found out about a year ago that my uncle had been diagnosed with prostate cancer and instead of doing anything about it he let it sit and it has now spread to his bones. At the time I didn’t understand how one could do that. “It’s such an easy fix.” Sitting in the same position I can see where one would refuse to do anything, as that is the road I will most likely take.

The boyfriend, upon hearing my decision, was quiet. He didn’t really have any response. The husband however was annoyed and told me that my decision was bull shit and I was going to do whatever it took. While I respect his opinion more than likely I won’t be doing anything. What worth do I have if I can’t have sex? I know that’s such a petty thing to think but the psychology behind never having another erection is staggering. I remember a statistic about the army spending thousands on viagra, and I get it. For a very brief time I couldn’t get an erection and maintain it and it is a huge mind fuck for one to endure. (At least it was for me.)

As of right now, this is all just theory. I don’t have solid facts to determine anything or if what I assume to be reality is in fact true. The most comforting thing I do have is that I have two men who have repeatedly told me that they will be there for me and that is what’s getting me through, between my sudden outburst of tears (though those could just be from the pink-eye.)

Concerns and Observations

As I watch three long term relationships, in my tiny little social circle, coming to an end, I begin to panic and draw concern for my own. Granted, the situation is already convoluted and strange. It breaks all the social norms and we are basically treading in uncharted territory. If it is not known, I am married, have been for the past 5 years (together 15), and I also have a boyfriend, together for 6 months.

There are no secrets. Both of them know of the other. They have met a few times and once all three of us went on a “date” to see Crazy Rich Asians. Even now, as I look back on that event, I don’t recall any emotional awkwardness. It was strange in a sense because with both men there are two very different sets of actions that typically occur. What I’m referring to is with the boyfriend I am very much more “hands-on,” for lack of a better term. He is just more physically intimate than my husband. For instance, when the boyfriend (Josh, because I don’t want to keep saying “the boyfriend”) and I go to Disneyland together we hold hands almost the entire time and in general are more physically affectionate. That would NEVER happen with my husband. Not even for a second. Well, maybe, if we were in a gay bar, located in a very gay neighborhood, and he was thoroughly liquored up. Otherwise the husband (Charlie) is not a touchy-feely kind of person.

This weekend all three of us (and Charlie’s ex/current/”who the fuck knows” boyfriend) will be going to Disneyland for gay days. And for once I am filled with anxiety. Josh and I have set a precedent that will not be met because it would seem cruel to do so in front of Charlie, or vice versa. I am sure it will be fine and it will play out the way it plays out. Fuck, the whole thing is an experiment in just trying shit out and see how it goes, like some kind of emotional Russian roulette. For instance, the movie date and this other time when we all got together to play Pokémon Go. Those times were fine. Surprisingly so. Which is why I don’t understand my feelings for this little excursion.

I think part of it is linked to watching my friend’s relationship break apart. They’ve been together for 9 years and they’re now agreeing to separate. The crux of this particular relationship was that they too were in a “throuple.” My husband (ever the asshole) jokingly asked “who got the boyfriend?” Is their break-up a warning sign for things to come in my own life? But even when I go down that line of thinking I begin to wonder am I just asking this because of societal expectations of what a “relationship” is and should be? Or, in this case, is it just how it played out regardless of situations/factors. All I have to go off of is what is known, and all that exists is the common “couple.”

Then there is another couple that broke apart a year ago. Their break-up has been 100% amicable and up until a week ago were still living together, in separate rooms. What preceded their ultimate end was that they opened up the relationship. Did that relationship end because of opening things up? Or was it already played out before that and having trysts on the side was the final straw?

I like to think of myself as this scientific observer, looking at situations and trying to find the commonalities and what point brought it to where it finally fell. But, I am working with a very limited number of examples to gauge. And at the end of it all, I don’t think I want to know. Not now.

Sometimes, I think that it is SO obvious that I am an idiot for not seeing the fact that I am sitting in a pool of purple Jell-O, as I wonder where am I going to get a gelatinous dessert.

Exhibit: Addiction

I am broken. All humans are, but I sometimes feel more fractured than most.

These past couple days I have found myself beaten and downtrodden. With all the things that are happening in the world (the cruelty, the callousness, the secrecy), to the death of my “bear cub,” to the stress of my impending licensing exam, I have found it hard to see the “bright side.” As a result, my addiction has reared its ugly head and shown me, without a doubt, that I am a sex addict.

For many, it’s not a real addiction. Supposed “sex therapists” have denounced it because there isn’t a substance in which one abuses. However, fun fact, the rush one feels during orgasm is just as powerful as a shot of heroine. So, there’s that. Regardless of the few naysayers, there is a program out there (I am apart of) and rehab centers that deal with the addiction.

I’ve been in the program since the summer of 2009. I should have been in a lot earlier because my addiction started with pornography when I was around 12. Back in the old dial-up days, I use to peruse galleries of images and would not stop until I had viewed every image. (In a gallery of 400+ pictures, that is quite the task.)

At the time, I was also a “devout” Christian and the images I viewed (and have only ever searched) were gay. So the addiction cycle of shame and guilt came all too easy to me.

Over the years it has progressed to insane levels and taken me into directions and places I never thought I could or would go. But that’s the nature of the beast.

The notion most people have is that “it’s all about sex.” And, speaking for myself, I know that to not be the case. There is something else attached to the whole situation to where I have tricked myself into thinking that it makes me feel better. It likes to make me think that it is some temporary band-aid in times of distress or sadness. When I was younger I used it to soothe my conflicting feelings about my sexuality. In the waning months of 17, I wielded it to cope with the break-up I didn’t see coming and subsequently never dealt with.

Where it becomes crystal clear, is that I have a husband and a boyfriend and my mind immediately goes to wanting to hook-up (or what we call in the program as “acting out.”) If it was about sex the need would be met, but it is still there as an “answer” to what ails me.

Some may be surprised to know that there is more to sex than just the act. There is the chase of finding someone physically attractive, the provocative and alluring conversation heightening the excitement and anticipation, the ritual of saying certain phrases or doing things in a particular order, and then there’s the ultimate goal of meeting with this person who one has deified… All of it is consuming. Yet, what follows (for me especially) is the shame and guilt, making one feel worse than they did before and thus perpetuating the cycle.

The piece I find bizarre, is the act of not doing something destructive makes me feel sick.

I attempted to break my sobriety. I reached out to someone, made a plan, and then, when I fought hard against the want and desire to do that, I found myself feeling physically ill. I sounded like a mad man, repeating the same line over and over again, “just don’t download the app.” Yet, what did I do? I did exactly that, disappointing myself. My immediate act though, was to flake on the person I had spoken to and thus ending any chance of doing something that would have hurt my husband and boyfriend, and, primarily, myself.

So, I live to fight another day!

Everyone that needed to know of what was transpiring knows.  Now comes the task of trying to find something healthy and productive to pull me out of this goddamn funk.

One of them is writing.