On my sexuality: part 3

I wrote the first two parts of this a couple of months ago. You can find them here and here. If you haven’t read them, I suggest checking them out before going any further.

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Going right back to the original set of questions, the hardest to answer is the one concerning all the things I’d like to do with other guys. In large part, that’s because it carries with it the thrill of the unknown: on the one hand, there are so many possibilities, scenarios, and even small-but-oh-so-sexy variations on scenarios that I barely know where to start; on the other, almost all of them are accompanied by the caveat that I only think I’d enjoy them. Yes, it’s a lot of fun to lie in bed with my cock in my hand and a butt plug filling my arse, fantasising about being tied up on my knees and forced to suck half-a-dozen cocks one after the other, but without any real reference point to draw on, I have no idea how I’d feel about that if someone did want to try it.

Ah, and that’s fairly crucial: the ‘someone’. It’s also where this issue ties in with my wider sexuality, and in particular with my feelings on power, control, and submission. All of my hottest guy-related fantasies unfold either through the eyes of a female partner, or at her instruction/command. I’ve written four pieces of erotica that focus on M/M sex (Brother Simeon, Ruled, Your Turn and Room 317): two of them feature a female protagonist, and three were largely shaped by conversations I had before I wrote them with women I was seeing at the time. I wanted to know what they found sexy about the idea of guys doing stuff together, and when they told me, I built that into the action; I’ve always been turned-on by the idea (and the reality) of being watched and directed, so tapping into that kink produced super-charged versions of the M/M fantasies that already existed in my head.

For that reason, any honest account of the things I’d genuinely like to do with other guys in the future probably has to include the assumption of some sort of female involvement. If I’m alone in my flat on a Thursday night and feeling horny, I’m unlikely to head down to the local gay bar in search of someone to suck off; nor is there much chance of me turning to Grindr rather than OkCupid if I decide to look for a new partner online. However, chuck in a dominant – or just incredibly kinky – woman who I’m eager to please, and things might be a little different:

“I want you to do something for me – think you’ve got the balls to try it?”

“Yes…yes, please tell me and I’ll do it”

“Good boy. I want you to go down to The Castle Tavern – no, don’t pretend you don’t know where that is, you little slut – I want you to go down there and find a guy to take you out into the alley, push you to your knees, and fill your mouth with his cock. Get him to take a photo of you sucking him, so I can see you gagging on his big dick.”

Then…well, I certainly wouldn’t rule it out, put it that way.

Girl on the Net wrote a fantastic piece last week about great sex being more than just the sum total of a bunch of basic physical sensations. It needs context – not love, necessarily, I’m not saying that – but something tied up in the person or people you’re with, to lift it above your morning wank, and make it worth all the time, effort and emotional baggage. M/M sex for me is about that woman too, whoever she might be, and about the dynamic between us.

With that presence of someone who I trust with both my physical and mental limits, and who cares (in a wider sense) about my pleasure as well as her own, there are lots of things I’d like to try. Some of them are obvious: I’ve written before about how much I enjoy receiving anal, and I’m pretty sure that even the best dildo, in the hands of the most skilful woman, can’t compare to the feeling of a real cock pushing inside my arse. Why wouldn’t I want to find that out for myself? Or to discover what it’s like to have someone come inside me. After all, I’ve been told by various women over the years how good it feels when my cock thickens inside them, right at the end, and leaves them with an arse full of cum – that’s got to be a pretty fucking universally awesome sensation, right?

Right. So there’s that. But there’s also the glorious prospect of the unknown. I’m on familiar terms with my own body at this point. I know what my dick looks like and how hard it gets. I know how I fuck. How my cum tastes. What noises I make. How much I sweat. The way my body responds to different forms of pressure or stimulation. I project all of that onto my mental picture of M/M sex and onto the M/M scenes I write, as well as borrowing liberally from the porn I’ve seen and the erotica I’ve read. However, as Cara Sutra pointed out when she debunked the various myths about lesbian sex, seeing isn’t doing. Fantasizing isn’t doing. Writing about a bunch of horny monks having a gang-bang certainly isn’t doing. Sex with another guy is something I have a set of ideas about, but there’s every chance the reality is different – and maybe, just maybe, better – than the hypothetical version I carry around with me. It’ll feel different, and taste different, and look different, and new stuff will happen. Stuff I’m not prepared for, or which pushes my boundaries in ways I hadn’t considered before. Stuff I’ll like. Stuff I won’t. Stuff I’ll have to go away and think about afterwards, because hey, I just don’t know how it makes me feel.

Yes, newness in sex is routinely overrated. Your first time might have been really good, but it probably wasn’t the best you’ve ever had. Same goes for the first night when you decided to tie someone up, or have sex on the beach, or try that new position you saw in Cosmo which, it turns out, requires an advanced degree in Engineering and a partner who medalled in Gymnastics at the London Olympics. Newness is exciting and fun, and gives you the same butterflies you had as a teenager when your high-school crush walked past you in the corridor, but in sexual terms it’s not what pays the bills.

I like the stuff that pays the bills. A lot. I love gentle missionary sex with someone I’ve known for years. I can think of few things better than waking up next to a woman I care about, yanking down her PJ bottoms, curling my body round hers, and having sleepy Sunday morning sex that lasts all of five minutes before we both doze off again. It makes me happy to know my own body inside-out, and even happier when I have a partner of whom I can say the same. All of those things are great. The best, in fact. And yet…

I don’t want to die wondering. When I was a horny 21-year-old virgin, I wanted to have sex not for the status it gives you, or the stigma it removes, but to know, to really know what it felt like. I’m as insatiably curious now as I was then, so when people say to me “hey, you fantasize about taking another man’s cock in your hand/mouth/arse, right…well what would you want to do if you actually had one in front of you?”, my answer is “EVERYTHING”.

It would require context, trust, and ideally the presence of a female partner who could push all the right buttons and really make me crave it, but ultimately what I want is to take all of the hot ideas in my head, chuck them into a soundproof room, strip naked, and dive right in. If you want to know what that looks like then please, come in and take a seat. Just shut the door behind you. This could take a while…