When I posted last Friday, I had no intention to go in depth into the story of BLACKMAN. But I got a lot of responses wanting to know how the Cheesy Romance turned out, so I decided to tell a little more of the story.
When I last left you
, I had just met BLACKMAN
and had experienced the best first date of my life. Before the end of our first date, he insisted that he take me out Saturday night—in order to repay me for treating him to dinner (he lost his wallet, remember?).
I was excited. And who wouldn’t be? I had just met an attractive in-shape black man, who was employed (he often called me from his job), a good kisser with fresh breath, wasn’t a bad dancer, and who he looked at me like a fat woman stares at a Krispy Kreme
donut she knows she shouldn’t have; with a certain longing rawness and craving desire.
After countless dates with uglies, smellies, assholes, fakes, and attitudes I was finally meeting someone I vibed with. I was beginning to think to myself, “Hey, I am an attractive intelligent brother who has some good stuff to offer. Maybe I am a catch after all. I am not an awful person after all. I don’t suck.” “That’s right,” I repeated in my head, “I DON’T SUCK!” I had no clue that BLACKMAN
would soon help me realize the true meaning of those three words.
Between that first Wednesday date to our next Saturday date, BLACKMAN
and I must have called each other a thousand times—chatting and leaving messages for one another. But most of the time when I called him, he wasn’t at home. I would often leave a message with his VICTOR
, his effeminate voiced Puerto Rican roommate, who didn’t like me calling. He never gave my messages to BLACKMAN
Our second date was fun. We met and went to CIRCUIT
—the Chicago club where white men go to pick up on the Latino boys. In 2001, CIRCUIT
was the closest thing that Chicago had to a place where go-go boys hung out. It was a crowded Saturday night. The boys packed the space like sardines, which gave me and BLACKMAN
an excuse to squeeze up against one another on the dance floor. It’s like we couldn’t keep our hands or lips off of one another. He had even removed his tongue ring. And we both seemed to have PERPETUAL ERECTIONS
from the moment we met on the street and hugged. Erections I was all too aware off as we pressed our bodies against one another on the floor.
told me he needed to get a drink and asked if I wanted anything. I told him I was cool, but that I needed to go to the bathroom. We agreed to meet at the video bar at the front of the club where it was a lot quieter and where we could sit down. While I was in the bathroom I was thinking:
Man I cannot believe my luck. This shit feels so good.
During our time together, he and I never really talked about sex—though there was a lot of sexual banter. I wasn’t preoccupied with getting him to take his clothes off and having sex with him. I was really enjoying his company, the talk, the groping, the laughs, the grinding. It was just intense.
I went to meet him at the front of the club at the video bar and we sat down next to each other in some chairs. He leaned in to kiss me and as he sucked on my bottom lip my senses started to react. My stomach was turning. My brain was saying, “YUCK”.
I pulled away from him.
“Have you been smoking?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
I replied, “Yeah, not to be an asshole, but I don’t really like the taste.”
It put a damper on the mood. He insisted that he only smoked once in a while, and usually only when he was in a club or some other social setting. It didn’t bother me that much, but I knew I couldn’t kiss someone and taste cigarettes. It was my first warning sign. But it wouldn’t be the last one. Other than the fact that he was Smokey the Bear
, the evening went off without a hitch.
The next day I told one of my close friends ANGEL
(see who’s who
) about my dates with BLACKMAN
. I discussed everything from his cute mustache to his bitchy roommate VICTOR
. “Did you say he has a roommate named VICTOR? Is your friend’s name BLACKMAN?” ANGEL
asked. Don’t let anyone tell you that the gay world isn’t small. You can’t swing a dick without hitting someone you know, or someone your friend knows. ANGEL
(who was an associate of VICTOR
) went on to tell me that VICTOR
were lovers. I brought this up to BLACKMAN
, and hesitantly, he admitted it was true. He said that they were no longer together, but they were stuck in a lease together. This didn’t sit too well with me. That meant I was never going over BLACK’s
house to hang with him.
Our next few dates went well. They were sex light (clothes never came off), heavy on the intimacy, and filled with fun conversation. I started to feel like we were dating. We returned to JOY’S NOODLE & RICE SHOP
for dinner one night, and the sexual banter got charged. It had been about 3 weeks, and neither of us had engaged in any sexual activity. My testicles weresore from the build-up.
Why hadn’t we had sex?
He said that he didn’t want to do sex right away because he was “really feeling me”. I voiced my agreement. I told him that I thought it was time for us to stop talking about sex and to at least get naked with one another. He agreed.
“Why don’t we do it now?”
“But you have to go to work tomorrow, and I live over an hour away, and we can’t go to your place.”
We sat silent for a minute until he suggested, “Let’s go to the bathhouse.”
It seemed an odd suggestion. Not the place I thought he and I would have our first sexual encounter. But it was different, and I was horny. So the game was afoot.
We walked over to the nearby STEAMWORKS
(3246 N. Halsted). We checked in and took our clothes off and wrapped our towels around our bodies. We had to be two of the only three black people at the establishment, and BLACKMAN
stuck to be like brown on brown rice.
“That guy over there is looking at you.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “I came here with you. I don’t want any of these guy in here even touching me.”
And with those sappy words of romance so began my PERPETUAL ERECTION
He and I walked around with our towels sticking out in front of us. I told him to go to one of the glory holes
and to put his dick through it and I would go on the other side and go to work. It had always been a fantasy of mine to do that. But I could never bring myself to suck some stranger’s dick hanging out of a hole (and you should be careful, see this post by Cement Brunette
). I was excited because I rarely engaged in performing oral sex on a guy, and this was finally my opportunity to do it safely.
When I got to the other side, there was this huge massively long rock hard brown dick sticking out. I got on my knees and smiled. This shit was kicking me in the ass. The site, the size of his dick, the fact that I knew he liked me—was making me feel hot as hell. I opened my mouth as wide as possible, and went to town.
That entire evening we were like animals in heat. There was no penetration, but lots of kissing, sucking, bumping & grinding and dirty talk. He kept telling me, “I cannot wait to fuck you.” And we kept getting closer and closer, and then that’s when we had the manna from the sky—
THE SIMULTANEOUS ORGASM
When we exploded, it was nothing nice. It was like a yogurt bomb went off. Three weeks of mutually pent up frustration found its way on foreheads, nipples, cheeks, arms, sheets, and shoulders. Cum was everywhere. We had soaked each other. I couldn’t stop thinking that this was some of the hottest sex I had experienced and we hadn’t even got to the fucking.
We made plans to get together later in the week— to have dinner at my house and to spend the night. The day of the date I had to cancel. I wasn’t feeling well. I had a terrible headache, my neck was killing me, and my throat was hurting. I felt really uncomfortable. I went to my doctor who tested me for rapid strep (negative), and then ran all of these other tests and eventually took a throat culture. She told me to rest and relax and that I had nothing to worry about.
I was feeling much better the next day. And BLACKMAN
agreed to come over that evening for our sleepover. The dinner menu was set. The food shopping was done. My house was clean and straightened up. All I had to do was prepare the food. That’s when I got a telephone call from my doctor:
"Hi Bernard! This is Carol, how you doing?”
“Actually doc, I am feeling well."
I answered, "Thanks for checking up on me.”
She sounded pleased. “I am happy to hear that you are feeling better. We got the results from your throat culture back, and I you tested positive for gonorrhea.”
She said it real matter-of-factly.
“Gonorrhea? Are you fucking serious?”
To say that I was embarrassed would be an understatement. Not only did I have an STD, but I had it in my mouth.
She responded, “Yeah kiddo, I am afraid so. You mentioned that you had just started dating someone, so I went ahead and ran STD tests on that throat culture. You need to have a talk with your guy, because it’s likely he has it too. The good news is that this is 100% curable. I put in a prescription for you at your local pharmacy, so you just have to go and pick it up. It’s one pill of a strong antibiotic. You need to come back in next week and give us another throat culture to make sure that it’s all gone.”
I felt demoralized and a little angry. I had never had a sexually transmitted infection before. What pissed me off the most was that I got gonorrhea from someone that I hadn’t fucked on the first date—but from someone that I was “going out with” and getting to know better.
I told BLACKMAN
what happened, and he went into a rage,
“Thanks a lot BERNARD!”
, I asked.
“For exposing me to an STD! I have never had an one before, and now you probably gave me gonorrhea.”
I was upset. I told him, “Are you crazy? I haven’t sucked anyone in 8 months. I suck your dick and three days later my throat hurts. And you think I gave you gonorrhea? Get real.”
This was turning ugly. I decided to stop before someone’s feelings got hurt.
I lowered my tone, "Look, I am not blaming you. I am not even trying to be angry about this. The point is this. Now, I have gonorrhea. You need to go get yourself checked out, because if you have it for a long time it can lead to some serious complications.”
shot back, “Yeah well I haven’t had it for a long time. I didn’t give you gonorrhea, because I know I didn’t have it.”
It was like he was pouting. I could see that he was stuck on blaming me—and obviously in denial. So I told him to forget about dinner since he couldn’t be an adult about the matter.
Thanks to BLACKMAN
, I will never think of the phrase, "I don't suck." as my motivational mantra. It kinda has a new signifance, since now, I really
don’t suck--at least not anymore. Today, if I meet a guy, sex only occurs with some barrier--a condom—and, yes, that includes oral sex. Otherwise, it don't happen.
Oral sex is usually thought of as safe—but there are some reports (though partially problematic) that provide evidence that HIV may be transmitted orally
. Plus, there’s a lot of stuff out there other than HIV--like gonorrhea, syphilis, and herpes. None of which is cute. It's not just ho's and promiscuous people that catch STDs.
So fellas and ladies, be careful what you put in your mouth.