Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek between doors left slightly ajar. This week: The Media Start-up Guy With a Roving Eye Who Just Moved In With His Boyfriend: 27, male, Harlem, gay, in relationship.
DAY ONE
6:13 a.m.: Boyfriend wakes me up by fidgeting in bed. Not amused. Nor am I a morning person.
6:17 a.m.: He gets out of bed. Thank God.
6:24 a.m.: I’m irritated that I can’t get back to sleep.
6:35 a.m.: Boyfriend comes in as usual to kiss me good-bye before he leaves for work. We’ve just moved in together, so this remains novel. Not particularly interested this morning, however. Still fuming from his disapproval of my buzz cut. Which, admittedly, is not my best look.
6:36 a.m.: He rubs my head and tries to make amends by promising sexy things later, followed by a soft bite on my ass. He’s almost forgiven.
6:51 a.m.: Reply to e-mail from Craigslist ad we posted over the weekend seeking a threesome to celebrate boyfriend’s birthday.
6:54 a.m.: Send light sext message to an ex-boyfriend. I also ask if he wants to phone. Thinking about the sex we had turns me on.
8:27 a.m.: See massive David Beckham underwear ad downtown. Compelled to scale his inner thigh. Wonder if the New York Times building-climber guy has any pointers.
8:38 a.m.: Notice hot girl walking like she just got off a horse — literally swaying down the sidewalk. I’m confused because it turns me on. Realize that I’m aroused by the thought of her equally hot boyfriend railing her really loudly.
10:30 a.m.: Receive request to trade pics via text from a former Craigslist conquest. Acquiesce.
5:43 p.m.: Plant a smacker on boyfriend for surprising me with a new video game. The fastest way to earn my forgiveness? Material possessions.
6:33 p.m.: Shower with boyfriend before dinner party. Purely out of necessity.
8:35 p.m.: Our guests leave. Boyfriend asks if I’ll go down on him later. I agree. But only because he washed the dishes.
9:26 p.m.: Secretly sign on to Manhunt.net to view my messages. There are none. Tell myself that I’m a good person — even if I can’t relegate myself to fucking the same person week after week.
10:54 p.m.: Serve, as promised.
11 p.m.: Decide to switch up the order of the sex tonight and be the top — though I can’t top in the actual sense because won’t let me actually do it. Instead, I have to hump his thighs while he lies on his stomach and squeezes them tightly together. He’s gonna have to give in someday!
DAY TWO
7:26 a.m.: Boyfriend kisses me good-bye. I tell him I love him — and mean it today.
12:10 p.m.: Realize that I haven’t thought about sex all day until right now. Cutie on the street.
4:40 p.m.: Exchange suggestive texts with a new gym buddy. I suggest we sauna together.
4:41 p.m.: He replies: “It relaxes muscles.”
4:41 p.m.: I reply: “Feel free to relax mine anytime.”
4:50 p.m.: Send an ex-boyfriend a text demanding that he return the sex tape of my boyfriend and I. We had a deal to exchange each other’s new tapes, but he’s never been one to hold up his end of a bargain. Stupid faggot.
DAY THREE
7:23 a.m.: Get out of bed before boyfriend this morning. Jerk off on couch. No particular reason.
2:17 p.m.: Take unnecessary amount of time to change at the gym. It’s sort of a turn-on.
3:12 p.m.: Stare in direction of random shorty showering. How could I avoid it when the curtain is only half closed, failing to cover his supple, bubble butt?
4:03 p.m.: Boyfriend and I are driving out of town for the weekend to attend a straight friend’s birthday party. I start sending texts to see what kind of group fun we can get into together.
6:38 p.m.: I’ve been texting a guy — CryBaby, who I dated years ago — for a couple of hours now, and I’m close to sealing the deal for tonight. I hope the straight people don’t mind.
11:55 p.m.: CryBaby arrives to “play cards.” The straights are on to us — they know exactly why he’s here.
2:56 a.m.: Boyfriend retires for the night, says he’s tired. I know better than that. The real reason is that he’s not down with a threesome tonight because CryBaby is underendowed. Boyfriend will change his mind when he wakes up with CryBaby in his bed.
3:31 a.m.: CryBaby wakes up boyfriend by giving him head. I knew that’d do the trick.
4:16 a.m.: We all succumb to what’s commonly known as whiskey dick. What a waste of time.
DAY FOUR
10:30 a.m.: Hung-over. Let boyfriend do me anyway.
7:22 p.m.: Looks like a repeat of last night is in the works. Texted someone hotter than CryBaby — ClosetCase — to hook up with us.
7:29 p.m.: ClosetCase sends cock shots for boyfriend to see. Nowwww the size queen’s interested.
12:37 a.m.: Timing couldn’t be better for ClosetCase’s arrival. The party at the straight people’s place has just cleared out owing to a medical emergency. I usher ClosetCase upstairs without having to pretend he’s there for any other reason than to engage in oral activities.
12:44 a.m.: We’re all naked and hard. Everyone seems to be into each other tonight. Hooray!
12:46 a.m.: Return from taking a piss to find boyfriend and ClosetCase sixty-nine-ing. Very nice!
12:58 a.m.: We go down on each other in all possible combinations (I count six), then ClosetCase watches my boyfriend and I go at it. This is going well.
1:14 a.m.: We all jerk off next to each other. Afterward, I quietly contest the composition of my moral fiber: Is this healthy and normal? Eh. At least it felt good.
DAY FIVE
11: 29 a.m.: Send ClosetCase a text to extend our thanks. He replies similarly.
11:31 a.m.: Hold boyfriend’s naked body before we get out of bed. Neck. I love him.
3:04 p.m.: Peek at boyfriend’s penis while we’re both taking a piss at a rest stop on our way home. There’s just something about it that gets me goin’.
4:34 p.m.: Give boyfriend road head for a few seconds on the New Jersey Turnpike, followed by a half-assed hand job. Nothing happens. We’re both exhausted from our trip.
8:16 p.m.: We share a long, sweet hug before crawling into bed. I’m a lucky guy.
DAY SIX
7:05 a.m.: Check my Manhunt account. A few messages in the in-box, but nothing I’m interested in.
5:25 p.m.: Extremely horny after work.
5:40 p.m.: Decide to make video of myself — from the chest down, of course. I’m not stupid.
5:46 p.m.: Send video to a friend.
5:54 p.m.: He likes it.
DAY SEVEN
11:33 a.m.: Text boyfriend to ask if he wants to tonight. No go; he’s not feeling well.
2:37 p.m.: Back at the gym. The locker room is calling. Just the sight of tight flesh makes me quiver.
3:18 p.m.: I consider hitting the sauna with gym buddy to see what transpires. Decide against it. I’m too lazy to change.
4:53 p.m.: Receive requested naughty pics via e-mail from another ex — MarriedMan. Pics nice, but not enough to sufficiently lure me.
4:57 p.m.: Log on to YouPorn.com. I like the amateur stuff from hetero couples. If nothing else, they make me feel better about my own proclivities.
5:01 p.m.: Lay on the couch and jerk off.
8:22 p.m.: Boyfriend comes home from a happy hour. Quick kiss, extended hug. Exchange anecdotes about our day. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
TOTALS: Seven acts of texting men other than boyfriend; two Manhunt logins; two acts of masturbation; two acts of fellatio, one in a car; two threesomes, one ending non-climactically owing to alcohol, one long and successful; one act of humping boyfriend; one video-game gift from boyfriend to atone for previous negative comment about haircut.
