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K. and I broke up today. It doesn’t feel real, and I’m still so numb about it all, although I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. We’ve been on a break for a couple of days, and I’ve been thinking about breaking up too—not because of anything he did. No. He was always perfect. It’s because I’ve realized that I can’t make him happy simply by being me. I feel like I can be myself around him, but it seems like he’s always holding his breath, describing our relationship as stepping into a minefield or walking on eggshells. It’s a familiar sentence—I’ve heard it before from someone else, too. It hurts because I don’t want to make anyone feel that way, least of all K.. I know I can be difficult at times, but who isn’t? None of us are perfect, and in our own little ways, we can all be hard to love. The real question is whether we’re willing to look past those difficulties and accept someone fully for who they are. Whenever we faced issues, we’d take some time to think about them, talk them through, and find ways to fix them. Sometimes, we’d tackle things immediately; other times, it took longer. But we always seemed to pull through. I thought this would be the same. I thought we’d take a break, gather our thoughts, and come back to each other with clearer minds. I even looked at the weather for the weekend to plan our trip to Chef Hat to buy crockery. I wanted to tell him about my research on the Sun Princess. I thought we’d study together, move on, and keep going. But this time feels different, and I’m not sure why. When he asked me if I was happy, I told him the truth: I was. Despite the bumps in our relationship, I’ve always recovered, put things behind me, and moved forward. I never held grudges because life is too short for that. But halfway through our conversation, I realized that no matter what I said, it wouldn’t change how he felt—about me, about us. So, instead of trying to say the right words, I stayed in the moment. I felt his presence, looked around the room, and thought of all the times we’d sat there together, playing games, hugging, just being. I feared it might be one of the last times we’d share that space, and that thought broke me. There’s something else I need to say: I’ve had so much joy watching K. grow during our time together. When we first met, he was afraid of aging, afraid of what came with it. He was strict with his diet, always chasing a certain look. But over time, I saw those fears ease. It brings a smile to my face to see him embrace aging, to hear him acknowledge his limitations—it makes him feel more human to me. And I’ve loved watching him indulge in food without worrying about gaining weight because, no matter what he looked like, I loved him all the same. I never told him this, but whenever I caught the time 11:11, I made a wish for us to stay together forever. Sometimes, I’d think about him at work, driving, or at home, wondering what he was up to. I wish I’d sent more texts to check in—he must have liked that. It’s something I regret not doing more often. I realized during our talk that he’s been unhappy for a long time, and I care deeply about his happiness. I love him enough to let him go if that’s what he needs to find peace. But admitting that out loud was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Letting go isn’t just about him, though. It’s about me, too. Clinging to the past feels easier than stepping into the unknown. But deep down, I believe we could find happiness together again. We’ve done it before. Why should this time be any different? And yet, I can’t ignore the weight of his unhappiness, or how long he’s been carrying it. I want to respect his decision, even though I want to hold on. I want to handle this with grace and maturity, so I told him where I stand: I want to give us another chance. But I know he needs time to think, to decide for himself what he truly wants. I don’t know what this means for us. I hope he comes back to me, but if he doesn’t, I’ll learn to accept it. There will be nights of crying, waves of anger, and moments of denial. But eventually, I’ll smile back on the great times we shared, and I’ll look forward with my chin held high. We’ve been together for two years, and I know we’re still learning about each other. Relationships don’t have timelines; everyone grows at their own pace. Maybe he’s used to learning about his partner faster. I never thought about our pace at all. I believed we were building something solid, fixing and rebuilding the metaphorical house of our relationship as it changed and grew. Now, I can only hope. And I wait, and I trust in the process.

This year, my focus is on the mind, body, and spirit—three pillars that I believe make life whole. The body is physical strength. I go to the gym three times a week, maybe six if I’m motivated, for at least 30 minutes a session. I want to build muscle, look better, and feel more confident. The mind is intellect. I read, I write, I consume knowledge. With AI, I can turn books into audiobooks and listen anywhere, maximizing my time. I’ve also learned to let go of books that don’t interest me, no matter how praised they are. Life is too short to spend on things that don’t bring joy. The spirit is connection. Connecting with myself through yoga, meditation, solitude. Connecting with others by strengthening bonds with friends and family. And connecting with the universe, finding my place in it, no matter how small or insignificant I may be. Each day, I try to take a small step forward in one of these areas, knowing that over time, those steps will lead somewhere meaningful, somewhere better.

Near Home—January, 2024 I was ready for more by Thursday. I drove to the bookstore after lunch, not sure what or who I’d find… I am alone in the straight theatre. Soon, a timid old white man comes in and sits as far away from me as possible. I watch him watch the video. He seems riveted to the sex on the screen. Or the bouncing big tits. He never touches himself. Even through his pants. After about eight minutes he seems satisfied—and leaves, never to be seen again that afternoon. I stroke. The three men using her in the video are hot. And they don’t seem to mind if their dicks touch. The door opens. A young man enters, tentatively. He is, I guess, just past college age. He is tall, but under six feet. His black skin shines in the reflected light from the screen. His hair is cropped close to his head. He opens his coat and shrugs it off. He is wearing a tight tee with the local college’s name on it. He stands by the door for another moment, then sits in chair by the wall. Now he can really see me. He was aware I was in the room before, but he now can see the dick I’m stroking. He looks at it. At my face. And then at the porn. The men on the screen are a great mixed lot—an older white man, an incredibly built Black man and a wiry Latino. All with big dicks, of course. And all moving from hole to hole with ease. At the woman’s suggestion they try a DP in the same hole. This makes the young man, watching their every move, unzip. He pulls out a nice seven incher. He strokes, watching her take two in the ass while the third is in her mouth. When they reposition, he actually moans as she sucks the cocks right out of her ass. He suddenly looks at me, embarrassed that he was vocal. I grin. So does he… We watch them shift to one in each hole. They fuck—and then the Latino cock, barely missing a stroke, joins the white one, so she has two in her ass once more. My stroking companion looks over at me again—for confirmation of how hot that looks. He is stroking harder. I smile and nod. He is up out of his seat and coming towards me. He stands against the wall and offers me his cock to suck. I don’t hesitate. I take him deep into my mouth. I don’t mind at all that his focus shifts from watching his cock disappear into my mouth and checking out the action on the screen. He is dripping precum. My tongue keeps mopping it up. He stands stock still, letting me do whatever I want with my lips and tongue. It doesn’t take long. “I’m gonna cum…” He tries to pull out of my mouth to spray the floor. I grab his hairy balls and hold him in place. He gasps—and shoots big. The cum is thick and viscid. His focus is totally on me now, watching me swallow every drop of his load. I finally let him go—having made sure I lick up the final drop. He mutters a ‘thanks’ as he stuffs his softening dick into his underwear. He heads to the door and is almost hit in the face as it opens. He escapes—and it’s Braydon—my cubby cumdump bud—coming in. “I was going to text you—and then didn’t. But here you are.” I tell him what I just did—and how I would have saved the load in my mouth to reverse felch into his ass if I’d known he was here. The movie ends. We go next door to the gay theatre. I sit in the cocksucker’s chair and Braydon gets between my legs. He sucks my cock. Expertly. I am super hard and dripping myself, with the sex I just had. I tell Braydon I want to fuck. He grabs a chair and turns it so the back is toward the screen. He strips, stowing his clothes under the chair. He kneels, presenting his thick, hairy ass to me. “I wish you had that cum,” he moans, as my tongue drills into his pucker. I make some sort of affirmative sound, muffled by his hairy cheeks. The door opens. It is a guy I’ve know for the 20+ years I’ve been coming here. He nods to me and whips out his ebony cock. He strokes it hard as he watches me eat Braydon’s ass. Finally, I stand up. “He has a mouth, too. Let him suck you.” Braydon groans as he takes the dick into his mouth. I let him get started before I work my cock into his ass. Soon he is being thrust into at both ends. I pull out and lick his hole once more. I stand back up and fuck. The guy in his mouth groans. I can’t tell if he is shooting or not. He pulls out and takes off. “Did he shoot?” I ask as I slow the fuck. “I don’t know. A lot of precum, though.” I move around to his mouth. “Spit it on my dick.” He does and I walk back to his upturned ass and fuck it into him… * We are on the straight side. No one is here. Or in the gay theatre. Braydon is sucking my cock. And my balls. And under my balls. And so well, I unbuckle my pants and let them fall around my ankles, so his tongue can work my balls with ease. He moans and begins traveling down my perineum. I slump in the chair for easier access. He is a millimeter away from my asshole. He stops and works his way back up. He is snuffling my scent constantly. All the dampness from our first fuck. Now licked clean. “I want to plow you.” It seems a pretty safe bet that we aren’t going to get any other men today. He drops his pants and bends over the back of the seat in front of us. I eat out his fucked hole. “Fuck me hard.” I stand up. I enter him. A little roughly in my eagerness to get in. “You have me so close to shooting,” I mumble. “Do it. Fill me up.” I fuck him harder. I really want someone to walk in, unzip and give him a cock in his mouth. But not today. I fuck Braydon with long, deep strokes. My mind flashes back to the two straight cocks in one hole in the earlier video. I would love that with Braydon. Especially with that young man I sucked off… I have a vision of us DP-ing and I am over the edge. I give Braydon as big a load as the one I got in my mouth earlier. I stay in place. Shaking with the aftermath of orgasm. I wait until my heart rate is closer to normal before I pull out and bring my wet cock to his open mouth… The original is here: From My Side of the Sling: "He Has a Mouth, Too!" January 26, 2024