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I would have to say I take full responsibility for any sex I had while I was 15 to 17. I pursued it, I was never forced, no one twisted my arm. I was never afraid as to "what might happen", and I suppose that's wrong because I had little concern for the men who were "adults" at the time. As a younger child, around the age of 10 or 11, I had guys expose themselves to me, but never touch. I have vague recollections of police being at my house and an officer talking to my parents. My mother witnessed a man pulling up next to me while I was riding my bike, she was looking out a bedroom window and screamed at him to get away from me. Was I traumatized? No. I was told I did nothing wrong, I wasn't in trouble with my parents, and that was the end of that. But I was different from other boys, and by the time I was old enough to ride public transportation alone, in a large city in a blue state, I was seeking out men for sex. Now all these laws about consent today, well, I am sure many of my sex partners would be jailed had they been caught. But what about me, I initiated or put myself in an area where they had access to me. The only thing that has changed, in my mind, is that in today's world my behavior could have consequences. I stay away from twinks, or "just barely legal" types. I am a man who prefers men, not boys. But getting back to my "early experiences", with the exception of the "exposure" incidents, I was the initiator. By the time I was in undergraduate school I was "experienced" to say the least. In today's world, in a red state like Florida, my behavior as a 15 year old might have landed me before a juvenile judge. I suppose I am lucky that never happened in my case. I have absolutely no regrets.

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This morning I woke up to breakfast. My ex had stayed over. When I came out of the bedroom, he was naked, sitting on the sofa talking to another naked guy. The other guy was a 30ish Ecuadorian with a big banana like dick, uncut and curved. He was on the shorter side and slim with a helmet of long black hair. Sexy .I go to the bathroom and they both call me to join them. Next thing I know, I'm on my knees ferociously sucking that Ecuadorian dick. It had a wicked curve so was hard to deep throat. Anyway, it gets hard as granite and he gets up and gestures for me to get on the sofa. He lubes up and slams his dick all the way in. He starts with deep slow strokes and after a while, he starts gushing pre-cum. He pulls out and it keep spewing and he feeds it to me. I suck his dick some more and then he gestures again. I assume the position and he enters and puts he whole body on top of me and starts pounding the fuck out of me,. Soon, he starts moaning long loud moans as he noisily unloads in me. He stays in and rests for a second. In Spanish he says he hasn't busted in five days. Hr pulls out and I clean him off but he's very sensitive. I get up and go wash my hands. With his 5 day load still in me, I then made a big pot of oatmeal. Served it with honey and cinnamon and fresh blueberries. We all had a bowl and then he walked out with me as I walked the dog. Still have his warm seed in me. It was a very very good way to wake up.

"Nextdoor" is popular where I live as well, and I took one look at it when I first moved here and in a second realized I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. A bunch of individuals who have nothing better to do than look out their windows and comment on the behavior of their neighbors, or even the streets leading into the complex. "Did you see the tall black man walking down 31st St. S.?" was one story. Well, this is Saint Petersburg, we do have African Americans living here. "Have you been approached by the black man trying to see his CDs of reggae music in the parking lot of Publix's? screamed another. No, but I have been accosted by a group of pushy Girl Scouts who had their mothers named Karen harassing me to buy cookies. "Nextdoor" is filled with outrageous racism. Because my community has been dubbed "Heaven's Waiting Room", l live near the spot all the EMT's park and are the first to respond to a 911 call. So that is the limit of sound I hear. I yearn for the days of partying gays who play dance music a bit too loud, it's not likely to happen in the streets leading up to where I live. The gays are up on 54th Ave S., now with the Flamingo Resort sadly in our memories, we only have the ABS so there is very little the homophobes can jeer at. I drove by the other day and they had a flag out saying "Theater now open", meaning the booths in the back were available to play in. The first time since COVID. From my understanding, they have new owners, opened a new water account (Don't ask me how I know that information, but I know). So there is some sleaze available, in very limited quantities. If "Nextdoor" members only knew! One thing of note, apparently there was some kind of call from Trump to lower the flags in memory of Charlie Kirk. For the record, and I know this is sad, I had no idea who the hell Charlie Kirk was before he was shot. But my complex, which I would estimate is at least 50 percent Republican, declined to lower the flag. My 93 year old neighbor was upset she made the few steps over to the "guard shack" to ask why they were not observing the Trump "order". She called me to tell me the guard told her this was private property, owned by an out of state corporation, and they were not obligated to follow any "order". I like my 93 year old neighbor very much, but I had to chuckle when she called me, outraged, that there was no sympathy shown for Mr. Kirk. "Nextdoor" is garbage, or at least it was the one and only time I looked at it.

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So you're the boyish Walter White, huh? If you're where I think you are, I can see the beach house not being much of a draw, but a pool will always do that. I hate wearing clothes in the water; it seems pointless to me. Yeah, Chris Hansen isn't someone I'd want to accidentally meet on a hook-up, followed by a press conference featuring my picture and the sheriff's little story time. That just wouldn't be my ideal weekend plans. The mentoring aspect is a weird role to be in, especially if your ideal relationship is one of mutual life experiences. My past adventures were mostly positive because of the people I met and those I chose to refuse association with. I find that you really are the company you keep.

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