From my earliest moment of sexual awakening, I knew something was happening to me. My body was maturing and my mind was taking on thoughts of sex as well as assembling, processing, and storing what I saw in my family, relatives, and even in the public be it in person or via television. I continued to process and refine. I finally knew without a doubt that I was a homosexual--gay. My seeing certain if not most men stimulated my psyche and libido. I became aroused realizing that my pulse had increased, my breathing came in shallow draws, a light sweat appeared on my body, my balls rolled around in their home, my cock pressure intensified on my underwear, and my eyes transfixed on my latest man of desire for the moment.
At this same time, I had heard the catcalls and teasing given to perceived gay boys my age. I had heard the sneering remarks and ridicule given to my own kind. As tactfully as possible, I dissuaded most of the crowd with which I ran to turn to other matters at hand such as class assignments when at school, moving on to our intended destination (movie, swimming hole, ice cream, etc.), and athletic events when at competitions. I was a member of the cross country and swim team at my high school. Nothing of a super star--just an average runner and swimmer that allowed me to exercise and rid myself of some frustrating times.
I was still growing but at a slower pace hitting the six-foot mark with muscles from running and swimming but also from the work that I did on my family's farm. I kept 160 pounds permanently marked on our bath room scales. I'm sure that part of that was from the black hair I sported all over my arms, legs, and chest. (It was not for nothing that several classmates called me "hairy ape" and "Neanderthal".) The full mat of black hair that covered my pubic region looked like The Black Forest with a darkened cut eight-inch slab of meat containing huge veins running along the top of it. It all went well with my blue eyes, dark skin--no one seems to know how that happened--short cropped hair, and the seemingly ever-present stubble of black hair on my face which hid my dimples mostly. I tell you all of this not out of pride necessarily, though I am proud, but to give you an idea of who I am.
Of course, during the summer I wore very little as I worked around the family farm. This only enhanced my dark skin. The work also improved on my muscles and strength. One of the three ponds on our farm gave me the opportunity to swim to keep up my skill for competition but also was a problem in that they never contained clear water and didn't have the sides allowing me to push off to serve as my end of a lap. No complaints; just making an observation.
So, once I hit high school, I found that there was a rumour mill that gave information to anyone who was plugged into it. Naturally, everything reported was always the truth--even when it wasn't and could be proved to be less than factually accurate. There was always some new topic that would pop up and make the rounds though. One had to decide for one's self if such was true as there just wasn't any real proof one way or another. Which led to a topic that got started about mid-year.
The grapevine got all noisy late January. No one knows or admits to starting the information around the school. The topic was the local YMCA which was located downtown of course. No one could explain--nor did anyone ask--how the information was obtained but the word spread that the Y had a steam room where queers would hook up and suck cock. Now, that both excited me and made me skeptical as usual of the accuracy of the information. I just could not fathom that as a reality. The rumour kept up for about a month with it slowly fading out in importance to other more pressing high school factual rumours. However, I filed the information away for possible future reference and investigation if the opportunity arose.
So, here I was a relatively new admitted gay male who had finally found out a meeting place for other males like myself. I had no clue when I could act on such information but knew that the first opportunity that availed itself for such I would investigate.
This might be a silly question, but I'm really struggling with thoughts of quitting my job so I can enjoy being a full time cock slut. I don't have to work because the house I live in with my mom belongs to me and I have enough money from my dad's passing to be okay. I really dislike my job and one time I actually stormed out in tears because I was frustrated over how horny I was (I didn't say I was horny, just that I couldn't do it anymore). My boss called me and calmed me down and let me take the rest of that week off, then let me come back on Monday without any kind of write up or anything. So it's not that I have a bad job. I just have a job that I resent because I have to be there for 10 hours a day, 4 days a week when I'd rather be getting laid.
On the other hand, I'm worried that if I don't have anything to do with my time besides having sex, I won't enjoy sex as much because I won't have to be horny for any length of time. Also, my mom and my boyfriend are against this idea so I have external pressure from the two most important people in my life to keep my job and save my money. BF knows I like to slut it up and isn't against that part. He's just against me leaving my job because he thinks I'll regret it pretty quickly. Mom knows I like to slut it up too but doesn't know that's why I want to leave.
I guess my question for other sluts is, how do you separate fantasy from reality? I have this vision of a paradise where I prance around without pants on with my ass lubed up and tops lined up to fuck me all day. I know it's not realistic but there's a side of me that wants it so bad that I'm willing to quit my job just to try to make it happen. I just want to experience the feeling of being able to have my ass used nonstop for a whole week/month/year.
Sorry for the self absorbed post. I've been getting more and more emotional about wanting to take this chance for a while and want someone who's been through the same thing to tell me what they did or what they would do in my case. Even if the advice is to pull my head out of my ass, I'd appreciate hearing it.