GHB

People look prettier when you’re high, even more so at orgies, where everybody is high, where you look prettier too.

Guy #196 was one of the sweetest, caring and also oldest people I ever ran into at an orgy. His home was designed to facilitate gay sex in large quantities, but more importantly, it was a place where gay people of all ages could feel safe, protected and horny at the same time. To dismiss Guy #196 for being too old would be cruel, even for me.

Or so my brain told me the night we met. Needless to say, my brain was under the influence of drugs, most notably GHB.

GHB lowers each and every one of our boundaries and while it doesn’t necessarily attract you to people you don’t find attractive, it does make you empathize with them more than you would during weekdays. You still see their imperfections, but value the art of compromise at the same rate.

I appreciated Guy #196 for what he meant to others, and I projected that sentiment onto myself, even though in all fairness this man never meant anything to me, nor would I ever dream of pursuing a connection with him in the absence of drugs and our proximity to each other.

Added to that, I had conquered Guy #195, a cute twink in his early twenties, minutes earlier, in full view of Guy #196. As I went down on this twink, I could see the duality in the eyes of Guy #196: aroused by the site of two younger people doing it in his living room, frustrated by the fact he wasn’t one of those younger people. I sensed Guy #196 felt excluded.

In fact, Guy #196 embodied one of my biggest worries, that someday, in the distant but not exceptionally distant future, I too would live my life clinging to orgies with young people who just wanted a place to have sex, that my life would continue revolving around sexfests with ever decreasing meaningfulness, where instead of living the remainder of my days surrounded by people I’d have valuable connections with, my only cure for loneliness would be the occasional orgy.

The more orgies you have, the more mundane they become. In retrospect, my first orgy was pure magic, the second one lived up to my expectations, the rest were just increasingly formulaic sequels and to me meeting Guy #196 was like running into Vin Diesel driving a pimped up wheelchair at the cast party of Fast & Furious 21.

But when you’re high on GHB, Vin Diesel in a wheelchair is not all that unsexy.

Guy #196 came on to me pretty strongly, and I let him. It was an exercise in empathy more than sexuality and I can’t say I very much enjoyed the experience. At the same time I wanted Guy #196 to get the impression what we were doing was somehow mutually rewarding. I managed to keep this up until we hit fifth base.
“I’m not really a good bottom,” I said, something that’s true for all people I don’t find all that attractive.

I suggested Guy #196 and I take a little break, knowing all too well this break would extend well beyond the sun’s estimated life span, no matter how high I’d fly.

GHB had lowered my defenses. It had given Guy #196 his way for a short time. It made me feel comfortable enough to have sex with other Guys in his house, limiting the rest of my relationship with Guy #196 to just talking instead.

As it turned out, Guy #196 enjoyed talking to me. He would hit me up online a number of times afterward. I halfheartedly responded the first couple of times, only to more or less end up ghosting him. I actually really liked Guy #196 for the person that he was, but I simply wasn’t interested in the connection.

Having sex with almost 200 Guys will do that to you.

I ran into Guy #196 a number of times afterward, each and every time at an occasion where we found ourselves surrounded by people having sex. The last time I saw him we actually spoke a little. He told me he still hosts the occasional sexfest at his place.
I asked if it was a rewarding experience for him, to go through life aging from orgy to orgy.
He told me about a group of friends he regularly has sex with, in addition to doing ‘normal’ stuff with them. To my surprise it sounded less shallow than most of what I encountered in our collective scene.

While I don’t see myself doing orgies when my body’s too old to pass for youthlike, I did find it hopeful to learn there was at least someone who managed to forge meaningful connections with people there.

When I first met Guy #196, I judged him on a wave of GHB: I had sex with him because I tried very hard to find him attractive, which meant I had to think of something to make him attractive, which meant I took the tried and tested empathy route, which meant I needed a reason to pity him: so I presumed Guy #196 to be lonely, all the way to fifth base, where the GHB levelled out.

When it later turned out Guy #196 wasn’t lonely, it meant I had pitied him for the wrong reasons, that I had found him attractive enough to have sex with based on a false assumption.

GHB makes sex so much easier and so much more complicated at the same time.

Apart from knowing two people who died doing GHB and having one of my best friends almost die from it, my experiences with this drug are generally top notch.

GHB is essentially a cleaning agent mixed with distilled water and as such ideal for rinsing your sink or getting high, the latter being the preferred option for most people.

Getting high from GHB in the company of other Guys means getting horny to the point that people become attractive no matter how clean their sink is. Its effect resembles that of alcohol, except that your high has a very distinct sexual component and you’re not hung over the next day, although you may feel regret when seeing the Guy you had sex with sober.

When the GHB high kicks in, you let go of common boundaries and initiate sexual contact far more smoothly than you would sober, ever more so when you’re at an orgy.

– How much?
– 3.5.

This is a perfectly understandable dialogue to anyone who’s ever attended a gay orgy. 3.5 refers to the amount of milliliters. If the orgy in question is an all-you-can-take buffet, GHB is generally placed in the kitchen, next to a selection of sodas with which to wash the stuff away: like all drugs, GHB tastes horrible, almost as if evolution is telling us it’s poison.
But mix 3.5 millilitres of GHB with a few sips of diet coke, don’t think, drink, then wait about 15 minutes or so and suddenly you feel like you could seduce Zac Efron if you’d put half your mind to it.

The first time you experience a good high from GHB that is.

The more you use it, the more your body gets used to it, the more you need to believe you and Zac Efron have a chance.

Dosage however is key. 1 milliliter can mean the difference between having a great night because everybody in the room looks like Zac Efron and passing out to wake up hours later, clearly awake yet equally weary with the irresistible urge to puke.

I first met Guy #195 at this orgy in someone’s living room, where he was by far the cutest. When I arrived at the scene, I was the only sober Guy there. I awkwardly greeted my fellow gays whom I could tell were busy rating my looks, then went to the kitchen, took 3.5 and proceeded doing a smalltalk exercise with the nakedness I had landed in. As the minutes passed, I managed to position myself ever so smoothly next to Guy #195, to start smalltalking with him.

He was still in college or something, lived in a city I had no real connection to, I was a telemarketer who didn’t really have a career because I spent most of my free time either doing orgies or taking care of my slowly dying stepdad, but mostly I was just a telemarketer with no real career and I also had this blog about all the Guys I ever had sex with which seemed of some interest to Guy #195 and then through some cosmic energy my hand drew ever closer to his left or right foot, which he reciprocated by caressing my hand with his toe, which at that moment did not seem silly at all and a few seconds later all the smalltalk was in the past and we were kissing.

I felt lucky, to have caught the cutest Guy in the room within minutes of arriving there. Plus the foreplay with Guy #195 was nice. The chemistry flowed like tap water giving in to gravity. It was delightfully refreshing.

Until Guy #195 fell asleep, just as I was giving him a blowjob. It’s not that the sex was so boring Guy #195 couldn’t keep his eyes open. It’s just that the GHB in his system reached the point of system shutdown. Guy #195 fought falling asleep as best as he could, but fighting that kind of fatigue is like having three jetlags wash over you while listening to Enya…

The moment Guy #195 fell asleep I stopped my blowjob for the sake of it not being stupid, while the other Guys checked to see if Guy #195 was merely passing out or in serious trouble.

Take too much GHB and the body can relax to the point of not breathing. Take just a bit too much, and you can count on your fellow orgy crew to lay you on your stomach, make sure the breathing continues and you’ll wake up from a vidid Zac Efron dream a few hours later.

Although I enjoyed being able to hit up the cutest Guy at the party, the overall experience left me feeling frustrated, as the action stopped barely into the opening act.

When Guy #195 woke up a few hours later he was still fairly weary. When I told him he’d fallen asleep during sex he barely seemed to remember it. We cuddled around some more, but actual sex didn’t materialize, not this orgy, not on any of the subsequent orgies I ran into him.

I liked Guy #195 and I got the impression it was mutual, but at the same time he fell asleep during my blowjob. In other words, he was so high when he was into me it made me doubt if he was really into me at all.

Which, incidentally, ties into the story of Guy #196, which is about how GHB makes people I have sex with look far more attractive than they are in ‘real’ life.

Sweet dreams for now.