Menen Masterbates

After hours of refining and restructuring a single paragraph, Menen now bug-eyed and delirious, extends his right hand to the Mountain Dew bottle on the coffee table. He appears mortified to find it covered with a slippery substance. With such weighty topics, he obviously cannot be bothered with mysteries now. He knows only one thing in this moment -create.

He quickly consumes the ambrosia, and returns to his masterpiece. Unfortunately the elixir of life has an agenda all its own. It works with incomprehensible grace, its radiant glowing fluid seducing him again.

Although the movement of his fingers on the buttons has increased, his eyes are glossy now and he is making mistakes that could take hours to correct. Deductive reasoning apparently at full throttle, he says aloud, "Ah, I took a drink from the bottle when we were having sex. There must have been lubricant on my hand."

Devoid of resistance, imagery of the sexual depravity between the two warm-blooded bodies washes over him. The waves of memories engulf him as if he were a small stone in the sand. The decadence, the yearning, utterly and effortlessly consumes him.

His fingers leave me now. It has won. Awaiting his return, I mark where we parted and blink silently.

At the precise moment his hand slips beneath his belt, a subtle yet unmistakable moan of ecstasy escapes from his throat.

Was that a smile on his face?

Who Can Say?

I am not one of those people who know what they want to do when they grow up. For years now, I have admired others as they proclaim things like "I'm going to be a botanist." Or I'm going start a non-profit organization." They all seem so task and goal oriented. They even know where they are going and exactly when they will get there. Sometimes they even know why they are going.

I am proud to report that I know what I am doing for lunch today, and I can hardly wait to get there. Right now sharing a loaf of bread, salami, cheese, peanut M&M’s and a Mountain Dew with a good friend is direction enough in life for me.

Menen Has A Sex Dream On The Beach

I attempted to go surfing this morning. My performance on the waves did not measure up to my riding standards set last night. In fact, I could not even get it up. Frankly, I am not sure I could have caught a tsunami if it formed right underneath me. Ordinarily, I am an excellent surfer, and this is something that seldom happens to me. Defeated, I paddled to shore, laid my board on the sand, climbed on top of it, and took a nap of shame.

I awoke to the sound of my three surf buddies laughing hysterically at me. With sand imbedded in the side of my face, and holding my board as if it were someone resting their head on my chest, I was sporting a raging hard on. Much to my horror, it formed an undeniably solid tent in my surf shorts and was equipped with a distinctive pre-cum spot.

As we walked to the showers, I tried to will my cock limp with thoughts of dead kittens and starving children. It absolutely refused to cooperate so by the time we got to the showers the ridiculing had done nothing but escalate. Of the four us, I am the only gay man in the clan. They made numerous jokes about me secretly wanting to have sex with all of them. This is an old ongoing tease between us. Today it played out differently than usual.

Since my shorts were soaking wet from the showers, and now clearly outlining my erection, I replied, "No chance of us ever hooking up though, because I am only attracted to men with dicks bigger than mine."

The silence in the air was positively exquisite.

Menen Needs Sleep

I spent the night having sex with The Man Who Makes Me Laugh. My sex drive had gone crazy and I rode his back side hard for most of the evening. We got very little sleep and I am sure I will pay for it today. Periodically though we took breaks to eat yummy food, and rinse off. Between the orgasms, I found myself laughing and having a wonderful time, and learning more about him. I thought he summed himself up cleverly by saying;

“I am fickle, compulsive, irresponsible, and as you can see (pointing to the beer in his hand) have addictive tendencies.”

What Do You Want To Rub On My Stick?

Gay Sex by Appointment

I awoke from a power nap feeling, um . . . particularly powerful. I readjusted myself and checked my messages to see if the handsome man I have been having sex with wrote me another funny message. He did, and managed to make me laugh aloud with this line:

"[While on the phone with you I] Got some good visuals on better uses for the tables in the conference room than what they are currently used for but then I also had some visuals of me job hunting."

We are getting together tomorrow evening. This is great because the sex with him is amazing, but I do not want to wait until then because just thinking about him has made me even more, um . . . strong.

I have to go now - so I can entice him here with a cleverly composed text message.

Menen Finds a Dog

It was not as if I woke up in the morning and planed to have a dog by the end of the day, but that is what happened. When I found him under a picnic table, wearing a broken piece of twine for a collar/leash, he seemed tired. I sat by him for hours waiting for his owner to come back. No one ever did.

Later that night, with full bellies, we fell asleep on my bed. He smelled stinky, left me covered in hair, and kept me awake by hogging the bed and snoring. In the morning we put up posters and registered with the Humane Society. We knocked and knocked on doors, yet no one knew him.

Ultimately, I grew to care for him as much as any other being. He followed me wherever I went and never required a leash. He waited on the sand while I surfed, filling his time with his favorite game: "Bury the Ball, Unbury the Ball". Sometimes he scared me when he tried swimming out to me. I liked seeing his wagging tail when I came into shore.

His nose took us places I would have never found on my own: abandoned buildings and sea creatures washed up on shore. Everyday was an adventure. I learnt it was perfectly acceptable to get dirty, walking in straight lines is insipid, and power naps rule. Mostly though, I learned how to love.

For months an old man watched our ritual of playing and picnicking and napping in the park. One day he approached us and thanked us profusely, "for renewing his hope in humanity. "He said, I have not seen a relationship like yours since I was a young man, and I thought those times were gone . . . ." Frankly, I am not sure I understand everything he said that day, but I am glad we made him smile.

It has been eight months since I saw my dog alive. I miss his wonderful smell and do not sleep so well anymore: the bed is too big and it is so quiet in here.