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Fuckslut I like this word. I like the sound of it. I like the way it feels to say it. I do not so much like when I feel it is applicable to me, which I currently feel it is. I am such a fucking slut. The fact that I'm crushing on and probably falling very hard for SoccerBoi does not seem to have the weight to prevent me from behaving badly. Case in point: last night. One could probably successfully argue that I was settling a standing debt, fulfilling expectations made based on prior promises, but nonetheless, what I did made me feel even more wretched and trashy than I already felt. The early evening ritual was much the same as usual; go home, pour myself a drink (iced tea, in this case), take a short toke off the pipe. It made me useless, the effect magnified by the fact that I'd promised to meet someone later, and I wasn't feeling particularly social. I lounged in my chair and lay on the couch and watched TV and had a rather odd, I thought, call from SoccerBoi, who wants to see me but isn't sure when he'll have time, given his plans this weekend with other friends. Being so lazy, I napped a bit and reset the alarm clock several times; by the time I dragged my ass out of the apartment, it was 10.30 at least, and I was late to meet Carl. Many familiar and cute boyfaces in the bar, and a few pretty girlfaces, as well, were present. Apparently, women have started digging gay night, though I can't tell if it's because they like to hang out with cute gayboys, or because they like cheap beer and casual ambience. The hotboys from last week were there, as was Carl, whom I'd promised to meet, though he was deeply engaged in a conversation with a loud and intoxicated older gentleman, so I headed upstairs with Red and Preacher, who I later learned were not on a date at all, thus putting to rest my worry that I might be interrupting something. So Jason and Matt (whom I didn't remember meeting) and Erik were there, along with the other Erik, on whom I had a massive crush last year around this time (I still would, but I've given up on that one), as were Lindsay (whom I never got around to e-mailing) and her friend, whose name I'm sorry to admit I've forgotten. Olivier and Michael and Marcus showed up, along with lawboys Derek and Kevin, both of whom are rather yummy, I must admit. Much buzzy frivolity. Cheap beer ends at midnight, though, so shortly thereafter, Carl and I headed back to my place, as I'd promised to smoke him up. I also very much enjoy his company and conversation, as he's very smart and passionate, in addition to being arty and quite easy on the eyes. I kind-of knew he was interested in more than just hanging out smoking and drinking nice Scotch, but I avoided that situation for the most part, by sitting on the other side of the room (He did manage to get a rather nice kiss), and then, we ended up passing out in bed. When I woke up, though, he was all over me, making what he wanted very clear, indeed. In my damaged state, my judgment was impaired and my defenses were a bit down, and I felt I'd made a promise at some point on which I needed to deliver, so I grabbed a condom, put it on, lubed myself (and him) up, and fucked him. He was very tight, and I think once he got used to the surprise pain as a result of the size, he quite enjoyed himself. It wasn't my best work, but I kept going 'til he came all over himself, and then I pulled out, didn't bother to get myself off; it just didn't seem right. I have, you know, this crush on SoccerBoi that makes me feel bad for fooling around with anyone else, though there are certainly no property rights involved at this point, and in college, I used to know Carl's ex (a brief version of that story is included in the entry here) in college, and now that he's back in town, I'm quite interested in hooking up with him, but the whole situation strikes me as a little weird. It might have been easier if I'd had a threesome with them while they were together. Anyway, Carl left; we said we were sure we'd cross paths again before he left town (maybe), and I got dressed for work. I tried to repeat yesterday's smoking trick without avail; I'm not as spiffily dressed, and I'm way more tired. I gorged myself on Indian buffet food for lunch. I'm spending too much money, especially on eating out. This is not useful. I think I'll be back in the office again over the weekend. r
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