Blog we must

I just got out of the GMSMA novices group. I have about forty-five minutes before Archangel the Bad Kisser shows up for our date. I'm a little short circuited today.

Here's why. I made it to the Lure last night. Despite the thin crowd due to the crappy weather, at one point I had two boys working my boots, and I met a way hot boy who likes it "rough and nasty." (I gave him my card.) And then I met this guy with six gauge piercings in his tits I went home with. I wanted my kitten punched, and I got it. Beautifully.

But here's the thing. When things were moving in that direction, he said 'let me get some grease.' And I chimed in, 'and get a rubber, too.' And he got a condom and some lube. He opened up the condom and had me sit on his chest. He greased up my hole, and put a condom on. I worked around for a while, got in a good position, and took him into me. It felt great. So good. I played around with thrusting my pelvis in different ways while he worked my dick. I came pretty quickly. Convulsively, I rolled off and got next to him, working his tits until he shot. I thought about staying over, but it was 5 am, and I was parked at a meter that started running at 8:30, so I got dressed and headed out.
When I hit the sidewalk, I thought, "He didn't take off a condom when I got off of him." Huh. That would mean he did me raw. Now, while I was riding him, a thought flashed through my head, something along the lines of: Did he put a condom on it doesn't feel like it it feels soooo good damn that's good.

Oh hell. That pisses me off. I mean, I doubt that I've been exposed to HIV. He was probably HIV negative and employed the same strategy as I do about Topping raw (I ask, though). Even if he's positive, he was actually in me for not too long and I didn't see any precum. And even if there way precum, his viral load is probably in the basement if not undetectable. So I'm not checking my lymph nodes for swelling and imaging 'flu-like' symptoms or signing up for Post Exposure Prophyllaxis. It just means that round about President's Day I'll have to undergo the indignity of getting tested again.

Here's what's got me nervy: I can't banish the thought of the consolation prize. Namely, if I did seroconvert, I'd get to have hot sex and not have to worry about condoms. If I didn't view HIV prevention counselors with such contempt, I'd think about signing up for a group at GMHC or something. And I think this issue is kind of an Issue for my therapist.

When I got tested before, the counselor asked me how I would feel if I tested positive. Definitely I wouldn't be jumping off a bridge. But I would be embarrassed. "He should know better" people would think. And they'd be right. I could make up some cover story. (I was talking to someone who seroconverted three years ago who had a completely implausible cover story.

Oh, and Six Gauge? I have no idea what his name is. If and when I see him I'll be sure to ask him.

Okay. Bring on Archangel the Bad Kisser. Time for our date.