Guy #166 – The thing with orgies…

“Can I fuck you?” were the first and pretty much only words Guy #166 ever spoke to me. I don’t remember much of our remaining conversation but imagine I must have said something along the lines of Yes, as Guy #166 in fact became the 166th Guy I ever had sex with shortly after the conclusion of our little dialogue.

The sex was about as spectacular as standing in line at a restaurant, waiting to be seated and seeing waiters with good looking food go by.

The room Guy #166 and I found ourselves in was filled with about 20 or so other Guys, most of which were better looking than him. On the other hand, Guy #166 seemed sweet and he’d been coming onto me the entire night. He wanted me badly. I suppose it’s always nice to run into a waiter who wants to feed you properly. Even though Guy #166 was far from my main course that night, I allowed him to be the mozzarella stick to further wet my appetite.

I guess Guy #166 enjoyed me saying Yes to his question more than he did the sex with me. His drug induced horniness came with a drug deduced boner that was hardly a boner at all by the time he managed to put on a condom. He even lost his balance a few times while rubbering up, something I would later learn was due to this drug called ketamine.
Compassionately, I pretended to be into the whole affair. Guy #166 came across as nervous and I didn’t want to leave him feeling incapable, even though I knew that’s exactly what I’d be doing eventually and soon: leaving him. I was at an orgy, celebrating what I would later consider a peak in my sexuality. I wasn’t planning on upgrading an appetizer to a course. In fact, Guy #167 was already starting to feel me up a few minutes into my relationship with Guy #166, and Guy #167 looked like one of the tastiest and exotic entrées I had ever seen.
It didn’t take me long to shift my attention from Guy #166 to #167. I allowed Guy #166 to have his way with me for a few minutes, even though his ‘way’ was mostly paved by the drugs he had taken. He seemed happy I hadn’t rejected him, which made me all the more comfortable to move on and basically reject him.

Guy #166 went his own way as soon as the ketamine allowed him to. To my relief I saw him having fun with plenty of other Guys that night.

Although the two of us would politely greet each other at various occasions over the year that followed, we never exchanged any words, probably because I had already given him everything he wanted by saying Yes. We were just strangers who so happened to have had what can best be described as a vague echo of sex at an occasion where sex was the only real means of communication. I had been his appetizer as much as he had been mine.

That’s the thing with orgies: They’re like all-you-can-eat buffets where you can spit on your food and then watch someone else eat it.

They’re both the best and the worst place to make friends.


Guy #2 – A much needed shower…

 


 

If there’s one thing that sets humans apart from animals, it’s post-orgasmic guilt.

It’s that moment one sobers up in the time span of literally no more than a few heartbeats, when you realize Kleenex can wipe anything but the shame off your body.

You see, when you anonymously meet a guy through a paid phone service and subsequently have sex with a complete stranger once, it’s easy to do it twice.

The act of sex was still mostly a mystery to me, but the act of meeting up a total stranger for the explicit purpose of having sex already felt strangely habitual. It had been about a week since I lost a decent chunk of my virginity. I was proud of having some sexual experience to speak of. That pride must have inspired me to hook up with yet another guy, another unknown whose voice I had heard on a phone box.

I reckon it must sound like a sad concept: Back in 2006 and perhaps still today, thousands of guys look for sex over the phone. It’s the perfect medium to hide yourself. I was hiding too. My first steps into active homosexuality were not something I would tell my mother about. I had confided my one sexual escapade in a few close friends, but to the rest of the world I was still a heterosexual virgin in search of a girl friend.
Phone lines were the perfect tool for closet cases such as myself, and Guy #2.

Guy #2 claimed to be a straight guy who simply wanted to experiment. I advertized myself like that as well. As if to make a point of his heterosexuality, Guy #2 had put up straight porn on his television, no doubt in an attempt to throw a little eroticism into the equation. The porn somehow added to the overall feeling of sadness I was having.

Things started getting a bit weird when I found out that, between Guy #2 and me, I had the most experience. I had kissed a naked guy the week before. Guy #2 claimed to have no sexual experience whatsoever, which I suppose made me the ranking officer on deck.

Needless to say, sex between two people who know so little of each other, so little of themselves and even less of sex itself is pitiful. It was about as coherent as Ashley Simpson lip syncing her way through Saturday Night Live, that’s how inept we both were. It didn’t help I wasn’t at all attracted to Guy #2. The only reason I was doing this awkward routine called sex was the fact I hadn’t had any sex for the first 24 years of my life. I figured I had to start somewhere.

The guy’s name was the same as my dad’s, by the way. It made not thinking of my father difficult. That little hint of incest distracted me more than the straight porn in the background.

It wasn’t long before I just wanted to go home again, to take a shower. My previous sexual encounter had already taught me there’s an easy way to end a gay date quickly: Coming.

Coming can come at a price, though, and that price is post-orgasmic guilt.
Me and Guy #2 both felt it.
‘I think I will like girls better,’ was the first thing Guy #2 said after reaching for his Kleenex. I couldn’t care enough about his thoughts to be offended.

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I imagine most people know what it’s like to have sex that’s regrettable. I reckon it happens because it’s deceptively easy to lose your sense of worth sometimes. My sense of worth wasn’t in great shape, in large part on account of my near everlasting virginity.

Everything has to start somewhere, or so I figured, foregoing the fact that Guy #2 and I had nothing in common, except for our loneliness and confusion perhaps.

However, I had noticed how Guy #2 had complimented my looks, just like Guy #1 the week before. Sure, it’s the easiest compliment to give on a sex date, but I got the impression they both meant it. Even though the shower was long and cathartic when I got home, I did feel more attractive than usual.
Feeling attractive proved good for my sense of worthiness.

Guy #2 and I did not stay in touch. I guess we both reminded each other too much of our post-orgasmic guilt. It happens on sex dates. If you try something intimate with someone you have absolutely no connection with on any meaningful level, it’s impossible to not feel awkward about it afterward.

Yet somehow, after that much needed shower, I felt more attractive than I had in a long, long time.

I have Guy #2 to thank for that.

 


 

Relationship summary

Length: 20 minutes
Format: Introduction to sex
Sex score (0 being groped by a Muppet and 10 being the best sex ever): 1 

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