Date Night with My Boyfriend

We were in a saltwater town on the peninsula, holding hands and kissing every chance we got.  Sitting in one of the many pizza joints with a lot of other Seahawks fans watching the game, I looked across the table at my boyfriend, Mal.  I reached out for his hand and had an interesting realization.

I leaned over the table and whispered, “Do you think the folks here see us as two gay guys?”

He said, “Probably not, my voice is a little high.”

I wasn’t so sure, with his sharp new hair cut and the compression top and packy I loaned him, he was looking like a handsome gay boy to me.  And I don’t think that’s all just rose-colored glasses either.

Either way, it gave me some brain food to chew on.  I am used to being seen as a butch dyke with my girlfriend, I am getting accustomed to being seen as a straight dude with his girlfriend.  What I have is zero experience being seen as a gay man with his boyfriend.

I liked it.  I liked it a lot. It gave me giddy happy bubbles in my belly, as a matter of fact.

It also flashed through my mind, as we walked out of the pizza joint and down the sidewalk, that gay men experience a lot of homophobic harassment and violence. Being in a small out-of-the-way town in a largely conservative area meant I *should* be mindful of that danger.  I gave it a thought or two, but it didn’t stop me from slipping my hand onto his arm and letting him lead me down the sidewalk.  And that particular act was meaningful for both of us.  I felt the way his shoulders went back and I felt myself blush.  I had been the ‘arm’ for so many of my dates over the years but had never been on the arm of someone else before.  I felt really cared for and special.  That’s how we make each other feel, cared for and cherished and lusted after and special.

This courtliness lasted a few blocks until I saw a dark alley that needed to be exploited. I pushed him against the wall and we kissed hard.  Our hands were all over each other, my hand between his legs, right where I’d wanted it for a couple of hours already.  I squeezed and stroked his packy and pressed it against his clit, making him gasp.  Then I reached under, to where his jeans were wet with desire.  We paused for a moment as some innocent bystanders went by on the sidewalk.  Giggling we moved further into the alley to where it opened up in a small courtyard.

An empty and fully lighted parking garage beckoned from under the building ahead of us.  Mal led the way and we peeked out at the sidewalk through the iron bars separating us from the street.  I pressed up against his sweet ass, letting him feel my bulge.  He groaned and my hips started working.  I was imagining my cock inside him, and and rubbed out a quick orgasm, muffling my cries against his shoulder.  Damn, he’s hot.  All that kissing and groping had me pretty worked up.

From there we continued our tour of “dark places to have public sex in Port Townsend’, giggling and slapping ass.  Next stop was a dark alcove just off a sidewalk near a Thai restaurant.  I pushed him back against the wall, and reached between his legs again.  That wet spot beckoned.  I pressed my fingers against his front hole, kissing and biting his lips, neck and shoulder. Sliding my hand inside his pants, finding his little cock, my sexy Mal came for me, crying out as quietly as he could, eyes wild, breathing hard.  I kissed him softly and he flipped me around, slamming me against the wall with a thud.  That’s when I realized the restaurant was open and we were easily visible if anyone had bothered to look.

He smiled the wicked smile I’ve grown to love, “Pretty hot, huh?”

I watched over his shoulder as one couple exited the restaurant and went the opposite way down the sidewalk.  His fingers found my hot spot and I came watching the waiter walk through the place, walking in our direction but not looking up to see him grinding against me.

Pretty hot?  Yes, lover, very hot.  Hot that you will stand me up against a wall and make me come, more than once.  Hot that you love being sexy and dangerous as much as I do.  Hot that you are just as willing to fuck me as you are to be fucked.  Seriously, incandescently hot.  Hot in a way that has seared the experience with you into my mind and heart.

Eventually, we continued on our way, holding hands, kissing when we felt the urge, goofing around down by the water.  Being with him brings out a whole different side of me, a boyish side, a playful, excitable, physical side.  I feel in turns aggressive and shy, sometimes within moments.  He is handsome, funny, sexyhot, smart and … well.. he knows just how to turn my crank.  I’ve been interested in being in a relationship with another guy for quite a while, but it just hasn’t worked out until now.  This guy, this handsome sweet, sexy guy, he’s got the stuff I’ve been looking for.  He is the combination of masculine and feminine that fits into the other side of my equation.  His kinks fit my kinks really well.  With him I feel safe to let my faggot side come out to play.  No, not just safe – I feel wanted, desired, craved.  I know I am the man he wants, and he’s the man for me.

It was an amazing weekend.  I am so lucky.  The luckiest.  I have a lot more to say about Mal and that weekend, and more… but that’s another post.

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3 Responses to Date Night with My Boyfriend

  1. Mal Reynolds says:

    I didn’t even think about the possibility of harassment…I was too distracted…

    well, yes, it wasn’t on my mind for very long, that’s for sure. I was too distracted by your sexiness to be concerned with much other than how to get you alone – K

  2. TJU says:

    I’m sorry if this sounds naive, but how is he a man? You mentioned that he has a clit. I’m guessing that he’s a male-identified dyke, but I’m still kinda confused. I hope that this wasn’t offensive. I’d appreciate clarification, thanks.

    I am a huge proponent of self-identification. Some of us contain more than one identity, some of us move through multiple identities as we seek our center. Body parts have very little to do with gender identification, which is why some of us seek methods of changing our bodies to better align them with our genders. Being born with a clit or a penis does not automatically mean that person identifies as male or female. My boyfriend is a man when and if he feels aligned with that identity… is that more clear? If not, email me and I can point out some great reading you can do to further clarify the differences between gender and physical bodies – K

  3. TJU says:

    I appreciate the clarification, thanks. What you said makes a lot of sense.
    I’m a bit older than you. So when we were younger, our cultural classifications of gender was more “black and white.” I’m not defending this sociological stance, just explaining my lack of comprehension. I might message you soon for more information.

    Not sure how much younger I actually am, I’m 51. My understanding of gender has changed a lot since I was younger. Like you, I was raised with a very black and white, binary concept of gender and it was always connected to biological sex. I am thankful to have had a chance to learn more since then, especially since that knowledge has allowed me to grow and fully embrace myself as a not-binary-at-all person… thanks for your comments. K

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