Great Pleasures

How many asses can I fuck before I pass the threshold of sexual acceptability and destroy my chances for being a contender in the sweepstakes of romance?

It's very difficult to look completely sober even when you are completely sober.

Surprisingly, Robert's bare, lubed, thin cock didn't slide into his lover's hole easily. It stopped an inch in, jammed like Pooh in Rabbit's front door.

We get buzzed and smile at each other, talk talk talk, then a lull, then talk talk talk talk and he announces he's drunk. "Should I take advantage of you?" I ask. "Yes," he replies, serious and smiling, but slightly ashamed of his desire. "I'm so easy.

Man, Pfizer isn't kidding when they say that Viagra gives you the physical ability to get a boner, but that you still need to feel attraction for a hard on to appear or maintain. Jason really helped me test the limits of the power of Viagra.

The essential oddity of human communication does not prevent its effectiveness, if retarded in efficiency.

It strikes me as ironic that tonight I refused to get into the car of a drunk driver, but I let a near-stranger fuck me unprotected.

Finally, by the end of the date-in a cafè further uptown-I said,"So, when are we going to get the chance to make out?" Jeremy blushes and ducked his head. "This is where you thought we were going?" he asked."I hadn't really thought of you that way. I thought we were just friends." Who has Saturday evening meetings with guys they meet online(on Manhunt, no less) and just thinks of them as friendly encounters? I was insulted. And hurt.

I wish I could get drunk and do useful things without remembering -like finishing a book, or cleaning the tub.

Whoever coined the phrase "honesty is the best policy" was a liar. Me and my big mouth.

What he wants-actual friendship, over a sustained period, as a kind of audition of romantic possibility-is a long and windingly manipulative road that I have not intention to travelling.

My body looks like my father's in the mirror.

My stomach and ass are loose, like they've been unsprung. See, kids...don't quit smoking. This is what you'll have to deal with. An unsprung ass.

Natural body. I suppose I can live with that. That's the best euphemism for fat, lazy slob I've ever heard and no matter how I scan it, it still doesn't sound insulting.

Sometimes I think my entire life is a search for that exact line where the heart ceases to compensate for the failures of the flesh.

There is only one way I stop being a slut, and that's by falling in love. If we're all lucky, that will happen, and I'll shut the box marked "CRAZY SEX HOOKUP ISSUES" and open the one labeled (in neon orange letters) "CRAZY RELATIONSHIP ISSUES". I'm insanely faithful when I'm in love. Emphasis on "insanely".

Didn't your mother teach you anything? That the best way to find true love is to fuck around with any guy who will say yes and screw men in relationships? Think of your reputation! Who will love you now, whore? Fuck you. It was fun and I felt better afterwards.

Can I tell you a secret? I am a virgin. It can grow back.

...there was this moment-a moment affected by exhaustion, Zyban, nicotine withdrawal, alcohol, marijuana, dreamy sensual music, and testosterone-when I lost track of whose ass was whose, whose cock was where.

I wondered if I still had cum on my face, dried and obvious. Awful: sitting, waiting, in that burger joint, feeling drunk and high and alone and self-consciously ugly.

It's crazy difficult to get lost in passion without the ignition of a kiss.

The rest of his body is unmemorable, and he's also a turtle-he lies on his back and gets stuck there, immobile.

I'm really too buzzed now to care that I'm going to die alone.

In the last few years, I would even gag brushing my teeth. But here I am just two and a half months after quitting smoking with a dick all the way down my throat. This is the kind of thing they don't tell you in the smoking PSAs, but probably should.

Part of surviving as a boy is doing stupid and dangerous things occasionally in the pursuit of ecstasy.