I'll blog briefly, I hope, as I'm pretty tired and it's late. But a sort of interesting evening.

Y'see, I was supposed to get together with this guy that... um... I'm pretty much in awe of. Let's just say I'm very fond of the ground on which he walks. I remember hanging at the Lure one night when a glance at the porn video that was playing brought a shock of recognition: Hey! I know those guys! Awe Inspirer was one of the guys. But, alas, he declared himself too pooped to play, and asked for a raincheck. He was interested in doing a scene with me. He plays really, really heavy. I don't know that I'm up for all that he is capable of dishing out. But, it would be interesting to see.

So anyway, since I wasn't going to be meeting up with Inspirer, what to do? So I headed to the Eagle. It was an okay crowd. But not for nothing, I counted six white sneakers (!) and one angora sweater (!!!). So a friend of mine who never goes out was there. We hung for a bit. He was talking to a hot wiry redhead. The redhead was an English professor who taught at a Southern university, in town for the Modern Language Association meeting. After my friend left, the Professor and I started in on each other. He seemed really sweet. So, we decided to go back to his hotel. I guess my first clue that something was wrong was when he dispensed enough Astroglide to float a battleship. I really liked his body, and I was having fun with him, biiting his tits hard, and diddling him up the butt (made very easy by gallons of Astroglide.) And then, he fell asleep. Or passed out might be closer to the mark. He was like, "Oh yeah Man! Yeah! That's great! Damn! Oh yeah! Yeah, work that ass. You wanna--." Mid-thought, he was out like a light. I sort of tried to revive him, and briefly wondered if he had perhaps had some GHB and had overdosed (his regular, deep breathing assured me this was not the case). But he was completely unconscious.

I guess he is one of those people who hold their liquor amazingly well. I would never have picked him out as drunk. So what to do? I briefly considered going ahead with my plans and rubbering up and ploughing him. I was able to resist the allure of non-consensual sex. (I've chatted on the internet with guys who fantasize about knocking out a hot guy and having sex with him once he's unconscious. But, the knock-out is usually pre-arranged, and this wasn't.)

So, I sat down on his stomach and fantasized about ploughing him, and shot a sizeable load all over his chest. Then, I got dressed, cleaned up some, and left him my phone number along with my favorite excerpt from "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell:

"Now let us sport us while we may.
And now, like amorous birds of prey
Roll all our sweetness and all our strife
Through the iron gate of life.
For if we cannot make ourr sun
Stand still hen we will make him run."

Being an English professor, he should appreciate that.

Anyway. Off to bed.