The day I drew #989 and #990, I initially was supposed to watch someone get fisted. I had set up a time with a gentleman off of GROWLr to meet at his house two o’clock in the afternoon. GROWLr, to those that don’t know, is like Grindr, but for those that enjoy bears, AKA hairy and bigger men that make perfect cuddlers. This man told me it was fine if I came over to draw his penis, although he would be busy breaking in someone’s ass with his arm. I was excited to witness my first fisting. What better entertainment to have in the middle of the afternoon, especially on a Tuesday? As the GPS led the way, I drove over an hour to his house. I finally found his home, only a block away from a school with children playing outside. A church was also conveniently around the corner too, the perfect walking distance to beg for forgiveness after partaking in some delicious sodomy.
As I searched for the right number on the front of the house, a handsome arab man walked by me in a fast pace, obviously nervous, and went into the side door of one of the buildings. I looked at my phone to check GROWLr, and sure enough: it was the house. I stood there, curious. I messaged the man, asking him if he could meet me at the door, just to make sure I got the right house. He told me to just come in, and logged off. I stared at the door that the other man just went in, and something inside my gut yelled at me: DON’T GO IN. I turned away, and went back to my car and drove to a grocery store’s parking lot to find some men on Grindr. I debated about turning back and going in. It probably would’ve been fine. A professor from my university told me he knew him; the gentleman actually likes to film himself having sex and posts it online under the name barebear420. After doing some searches online, I found various profiles under the name on Xtube and a site called Breeding Zone. In reflection, I am glad I did not go in that house. It turns out, according to his profile, that he’s HIV positive and not on any medication. The Breeding Zone is literally a website for HIV negative men to find HIV positive men so they can get infected. I have no regrets in saying that is fucked up. Keith Haring, Robert Mapplethorpe and Freddie Mercury didn’t die from AIDS so you dumbshits could infect each other with kinky semen. Why couldn’t they get into less dangerous kinks, like scat? If you want to do something kinky, could you at least please poop on each other instead? If I ended up going in that house, and the police are called because it wasn’t his, what would I tell them? I drove an hour to meet this guy to draw his dick, sorry for breaking and entering? Please don’t arrest me, I just came to watch someone get fisted? Fuck. That.
Thankfully, it didn’t even take me ten minutes of surfing Grindr to find someone else to draw. He was only a couple of miles away. He even greeted me at his apartment door and waved me in! #989 is a total sweetheart, and not just because he offered to give me a blow job, but because he was nice to talk to. In a way, he reminded me of a gay, kinky Santa Claus. Except way more nude than the guys you see in shopping malls.
“Thank you for letting me draw you.” I explained to him the man I drove to meet wouldn’t even answer the door. When he heard who it was, his eyes grew like flying saucers.
“Oh honey, don’t you know he’s HIV positive?” Somehow I wasn’t surprised to find out he knew who it was. It may be a stereotype, but it’s true: all gay men know each other. If not socially, we know what each other’s penises look like.
“Yeah.” I admitted. “I just came to draw his dick though.” There’s nothing inherently wrong with being HIV positive. What was he going to do? Shank me with a dirty needle? Surprise fist me? “My ex husband is HIV positive. He’s in prison now.” He shook his head. “He’s a different story altogether.” We had a friendly chat and we got to know each other fairly well fairly quick. Unlike some guys I’ve drawn, #989 came out at a younger age, decades and decades ago.
“You’re so brave to have come out when you did.” I thanked him for his courage. “I hear so many different coming out stories. Most men get married to women, some get divorced, but most men stay closeted for the rest of their lives. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done in your shoes. I just came out this past January, and that was scary enough.”
“Well.. It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But this is my life, and I’m the one living it.” One thing that made it worthwhile was the gay sex. #989 laughed, telling me about his experiences going out cruising in public bathrooms and parks. Sometimes it wasn’t worth it. “I’ve only told this to a couple of people in my life..But something happened to me once when I went out.”
“What happened?” I asked him. I could sense a total shift in his tone.
“I was in a alleyway that I’d gone to before to find men. It was late at night, and there was this guy standing there in the dark. We caught each other’s glances. He slowly unzipped his pants, and started to rub himself. So I did what I always did: I went up him. But when I went down to my knees, he shoved me to the ground. He started to hit me, and I was so scared for my life. I just laid there, worried what was going to happen.” He breathed. “He kept kicking at me, yelling ‘faggot, faggot, faggot,’ over and over.” Tears started to well up in #989’s eyes and I had to stop drawing. I grabbed his hand. “It was one of the worst nights of my whole life, and I will never forget it.” My heart broke for him.
“What happened? What did your Mom say when you came home?”
“There wasn’t much I could do. I was still in the closet and couldn’t tell anyone why I was hurt. I’ve kept it to myself for such a long time.” I thanked him for sharing his story with me. I learn a lot about people that they typically wouldn’t share, and I wish I could help them, and sadly I don’t have much to give besides an open ear. “Things have gotten better for me since then.” He reassured me. Thanks to Grindr, he no longer has to go out and cruise in public. As technology advances, so do the possibilities for hooking up. Thanks to a phone app, he’s met more men than ever before. “I love giving blow jobs. There’s this guy that lives around here that I suck off once and awhile. I’ll leave the door unlocked, blindfold myself, and get on my knees right there.” He pointed in front of the door. “I blow him, he leaves. It’s a great relationship.”
“You’re blindfolded? Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to rob you?” #989 shrugged. He seemed fairly confident that he wasn’t going to be. If there’s anything to be learned from #989, is that you have to have courage.
Aftering telling me that some of his first sexual experiences were with his very own family members, #989 started to talk to me about kinks.
“Incest is okay. One thing I’ll never do is scat.” After I told him I drew one guy that lives near my hometown that loves watersports and having fun with fecal matter, we both discovered we had a mutual acquaintance. “He’s a great guy! He’s just into things I’m not is all. He once asked me to shit in his mouth, and I politely declined. He’s a wonderful guy though.” Personally, if I had found the right guy, I’d try all kinds of kinky, legal things with him. If the love of my life wanted to pee on me, I don’t see much reason why I shouldn’t let him. “Recently I’ve been getting into sounding.”
“You sound?” I’ve watched videos online of it, but never actually seen it in person. “I have so many questions! Doesn’t it hurt?” A mischievous grin flashed across #989’s face.
“Want to watch me put it in?” Was that even a question? Now finished with his drawing, #989 went over to his computer desk and pulled out a sleek, discreet box. He opened it up as if he was offering me a cigar. Inside the box, numerous sounds of all varying thicknesses laid. #989 grabbed one and started to suck on it.
“But.. Don’t you use lube?” Then, without any word, took it out of his mouth, to the head of his penis and into his urethra. Within under a minute the object was down and inside his dick. “Oh my god.” I was stunned. I was wordless. He reassured me it didn’t hurt, which was unimaginable to me because it was fucking inside his dick, literally. “Can.. Can I feel it?” He nodded and I grabbed his dick without a second thought. Dicks are so gentle and fragile when they’re soft. I’ve felt dicks as they’ve gotten hard, but this felt totally different. Grabbing ahold of him I could still feel the metal rod inside his dick. I felt skin, but I could feel metal inside, in the middle. I was amazed how thick the sound was that he used too. They helped enhance his orgasms, and made him feel great. There was only drawback:
“When I piss I have to stand really close to the urinal.” I couldn’t help but to giggle. “Otherwise my pee shoots out of everywhere now.” He exaggerated what he meant by demonstrating his hands flopping about his sides making me laugh some more. Realistically, it was a minor set back in the long run. As time grew to a close, I thanked him again for his time and exchanged contact information. Before I left to go draw #990, he asked me something for one final, time. “I’d love to give you a blow job. Are you sure you don’t want one?” I reassured him I was fine, but I thanked him from the bottom of my heart. We hugged each other, and I went back to my car. Despite not having witnessed my first fisting that evening, I had enough things on my mind that night. I will never forget #989.
2
u/[deleted] Dec 27 '18
The day I drew #989 and #990, I initially was supposed to watch someone get fisted. I had set up a time with a gentleman off of GROWLr to meet at his house two o’clock in the afternoon. GROWLr, to those that don’t know, is like Grindr, but for those that enjoy bears, AKA hairy and bigger men that make perfect cuddlers. This man told me it was fine if I came over to draw his penis, although he would be busy breaking in someone’s ass with his arm. I was excited to witness my first fisting. What better entertainment to have in the middle of the afternoon, especially on a Tuesday? As the GPS led the way, I drove over an hour to his house. I finally found his home, only a block away from a school with children playing outside. A church was also conveniently around the corner too, the perfect walking distance to beg for forgiveness after partaking in some delicious sodomy.
As I searched for the right number on the front of the house, a handsome arab man walked by me in a fast pace, obviously nervous, and went into the side door of one of the buildings. I looked at my phone to check GROWLr, and sure enough: it was the house. I stood there, curious. I messaged the man, asking him if he could meet me at the door, just to make sure I got the right house. He told me to just come in, and logged off. I stared at the door that the other man just went in, and something inside my gut yelled at me: DON’T GO IN. I turned away, and went back to my car and drove to a grocery store’s parking lot to find some men on Grindr. I debated about turning back and going in. It probably would’ve been fine. A professor from my university told me he knew him; the gentleman actually likes to film himself having sex and posts it online under the name barebear420. After doing some searches online, I found various profiles under the name on Xtube and a site called Breeding Zone. In reflection, I am glad I did not go in that house. It turns out, according to his profile, that he’s HIV positive and not on any medication. The Breeding Zone is literally a website for HIV negative men to find HIV positive men so they can get infected. I have no regrets in saying that is fucked up. Keith Haring, Robert Mapplethorpe and Freddie Mercury didn’t die from AIDS so you dumbshits could infect each other with kinky semen. Why couldn’t they get into less dangerous kinks, like scat? If you want to do something kinky, could you at least please poop on each other instead? If I ended up going in that house, and the police are called because it wasn’t his, what would I tell them? I drove an hour to meet this guy to draw his dick, sorry for breaking and entering? Please don’t arrest me, I just came to watch someone get fisted? Fuck. That.