25 November 2010

Turkey Daze

Happy Thanksgiving.

I love this holiday. The food, the family, the friends, and the Craigslist ad titles:

"Stuff my Turkey" or the alternative "I'll Stuff your Turkey"
"Baste Me Now"
"I've Got Something for you to Gobble, Gobble on"

C'mon, give me some credit; it's so hard for me to come up with a new one every year.

This time of the year always reminds me of one-time lust interest, Chris. Back in the day, when I had just left undergrad and AOL Chat Rooms were the spot of choice for Roman eyes, I started talking to Chris under his screen name,  MUSCLEDAD4U (no longer there, fellas, sorry). Chris was seeking something very specific: a younger for his older. PERFECT! I had just turned 23 - within his age range - and I was ready to explore my attraction toward older men: this 43 year-old was my guinnea pig. Pun intended.

After stats were exchanged and addresses were given, I found myself driving into the suburbs of New Jersey for the guy for one reason only: the hot scenario that was about to ensue. Chris was very graphic about his animalistic urge to one day breed me. Breed . . . wait, breed? Come again? What the hell does that mean? Well, either way, it sounded hot and as a young gay, I thought his fervor and zeal to get my plump, bubble butt [and it is, thank you] over to his place was most exciting, so I played along: "Oh, yeah, uh huh. Definitely, mhmm." He said to me: "I want you to come to my job, boy. You will sit in the waiting room and let the receptionist know you are here to see me. She will let me know. Wait there - patiently." Pun intended.

Online, I didn't understand it, but I soon did. His certifications and diplomas adorned the lobby area: he was a psychologist. We were going to play in his healing space. Through the thin walls came a soothing, monotone voice interspersed with muffled sobbing, then a strumming of a guitar - kumbaya-style. Moments later, a middle-aged man appeared next to the receptionist who was sitting behind a bank-teller window of the inner office area. He walked through the door and passed me while wiping his eyes with his startched shirt cuff. "Good day," he nodded. Pause.

Chris: "Hey, DeeCue! Great seeing you! Come on back! Glad you could make it!"

Off-put by his car-salesman charm, I took a beat and then walked into the inner office and immediately to his room. Mid-sentence, as he closed the door, his smile disappeared and his voice dropped: "Strip and kneel." He dimmed the lights and spread an afghan onto the Freudian-couch. He pushed my head down slowly as I knelt there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take an elastic from a desk and use it as a make-shift cock-ring which i found humorous, but gravity settled in when he whispered into my ear: "You are mine for one hour."

This went on once every week for about 6 months.

At what ended up being our final session, I proceeded to do the same thing I had done at every meeting prior: stripped; knelt; bowed-down; and awaited orders. His massively muscular and furry body picked me up from behind and threw me on the couch where I landed on all fours. He rolled on a rubber, shoved lube inside me, and slid in. He reached around and lifted my neck back with his palm and hissed into my ear as he steadily thrusted as if to a metronome clicking at 76:

Chris: You like this? How about I take you to my lake house and do this all weekend - just me and my boy? You'd like that, huh? You are mine, boy. I am going to own you now - I am going to take off the bag and breed you because I own you.
DeeCue: [squirming] WHAT? (THAT'S BREEDING?!)
Chris: [surprised] Stay still. Don't you trust me?

I gracefully wiggled away and saw shock on his face. He paused and then laid back on the couch and pulled me close to lay next to him. I played with the tuft of hair in between his pecs in silence as he remained motionless. He cocked his head to the side to look at me and then pulled my face towards him so my eyes met his.

Chris: I am done with you. Get out.
DeeCue: [mortification] Exit
* * *
Years later, I was convinced by one of my close friends to go to therapy. Naturally, I contacted Chris - it's not like there were hundreds of other therapists in the NYC area. To my delight, he was more than happy to see me. But when I did, it was all business. 

Chris: I am a changed man; I was hurting my wife and my children; and I was not contributing positively to the many, many, many men I had in this office over the years.
DeeCue: Wow.
Chris: I know, right? I'm in a better place now, though and I'm thankful for that.
DeeCue: No, I mean . . . we aren't going to fuck?

Point of the conversation: Do what you want today even if it contradicts yesterday.

- DeeCue

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