I don't know why I said I never took anyone home before. That was a lie, or at the very least an untruth. No, a lie; let's call it what it is. I grew up telling lies, not calling them that, but just making things up, elaborate answers to simple questions, just, I suppose, to see if I could.What I should have said was that I never took anyone home without planning on having sex with him. He was the first. It was, I believe, my first act of charity -- or compassion is a better word for it. We eventually did have sex, but it was something different, it was something we got around to, an unavoidable thing for gay men (or for me at any rate) if I spend a certain amount of time, "sleeping time," in the same room as another man. It doesn't really matter what he looks like; it matters almost as little what his dick looks like, just that he has one is all that's important, that he have one at least long enough to stimulate my prostate, I've come to realize.
August had a nice cock. A nice enough dick to be called a cock. In my view, they're all dicks, regardless of size, but the ones that are useful for sticking up my ass, those I call cocks. They don't have to be all that big to qualify. My own dick, slightly less than average, could be a cock on another body, on a "top," if you prefer to call it that (I do not because I am opposed to the term "bottom" for myself), but on me it is just a dick. And really, August's was hardly more than a dick as well.
What a shame, a shame that we thought we could ever be compatible. I'm not sure, but I would venture to guess that on that first night we actually decided to go through with it, when we discovered that both our dicks were unsheathed in our pajamas, that we lay there four legs in the air, two puckering assholes waiting to be plunged, before we repositioned ourselves and tried for something different, something a little more natural for the both of us. And it was a shame that August's beautiful cock was wasted, relegated to the position of snug against his belly instead of inside me. But I couldn't stay hard inside him and he couldn't stay hard inside me, and eventually we reverted to the less spectacular but much "safer" 69. When I say it lacked spectacle, I mean on August's part mostly because I am a champion cocksucker and he was not.
Maybe I'm completely wrong about August. Maybe it wasn't my ass in particular, maybe for him it was ass in general. The fact that he wound up with a woman was my first clue, no matter that her name was Roberta and that she was fairly butch.
