One Week Later

Last Wednesday, I had my tonsillectomy.  The surgery itself went well, and between the painkillers and all else, I felt pretty well.

So well, in fact, that Thursday night I snuck out of my house for a few hours to hook up with a guy at the nearby University.  This is the same university that I fucked Lucius at back in January. He was a cute guy, about three months older than me. An asian kid, 6'3", but really thin, like 150 lbs.

Long term readers of this blog should know at this point that I have a bit of an Asian fetish (they have smooth copper skin and straight hair... whatever turns me on, turns me on), so even though I was recovering from surgery, I gladly fucked him.

It wasn't anything spectacular. Some making out, he sucked my cock, I fucked him missionary style, then rolled over and he rode me cowboy for a little.  After that, we jacked off, and I finished by straddling him and dousing him with my cum. I've gotten into that habit recently, it's a rather fun way to finish.

Anyway, Friday, my good friend, who I realized I have never mentioned before on this blog (how odd... I need a name for him... I guess I'll call him Todd), came by to visit me.

You see, Todd is one of my best friends from high school.  He was the second one I came out to (after my girlfriend) and one of my core group of friends who I hang out with when I come back to town. Hell, Geoffrey, in Liam's Mistake, is a loose amalgamation of him and another friend.

Well, Todd, despite living out in the suburbs, has a research internship this summer at the university next to my house (the same one that I fucked Lucius at and the other boy just the other night. In the naming schema, this boy should be S, so I guess I'll call him Sam).  He came over for lunch, which my mother prepared for the two of us. My mother, being a very talented cook, presented us with an extraordinarily delicious and aesthetically pleasing lunch, despite its relatively simple fare.  I believe it was chicken with mushrooms, green beans, and rice, with a light salad with cheese, mandarin oranges, and poppy seed dressing.  It was quite good.  Afterward, Todd and I had a pleasant chat in the garden, and they he bid me farewell.

Saturday, another of my friends, who we will call Eric, was hosting a party. Yes, yes, this Eric was the template for Liam's Mistake Eric too. And like that Eric, he and I share the same birthday, June 18, 1991.  He decided to hold his party a week late, June 25, and conveniently, I could attend.  As I am not allowed to drive while under the influence of drugs (Roxicet - it's a combination of oxycodone and acetaminophen), Todd came by to pick me up.  We had dinner first, then drove out to his house, where we hung out in his garden and talked for awhile.  After that, we went to Eric's party.  It was pretty much as described before - absurdly loud music, heavy drinking, lots of shady friends of Eric's.

I couldn't drink because I was taking acetaminophen, and combining that with alcohol causes major liver damage. Todd drank a little, but knowing he had to drive, he limited himself. So, the two of us spent most of the time playing pool.  We left the party early, at around 12:30, and Todd drove me to the train station.  The trains weren't running so late, so instead I slept over at Todd's.

The next morning, he made me scrambled eggs, and we went to church with his dad and dad's girlfriend.  It was one of those mega-churches. I, as a staunch liberal Anglo-Catholic Episcopalian, who's own gothic inspired church construction was partially funded by my family's wealth over a 100 years, am not really a fan of such churches. But, maybe because I was heavily dosed on painkillers, I had a good time swaying with the music.

After church, Todd, his mother, his sister, and I, grabbed lunch at a small Italian restaurant where our waiter was one of Eric's lackeys. Like, the type of lackey where I've had that kid deliver weed to me in a park before, free of charge.  Todd was there, too. Of course, we couldn't say that in front of Todd's mother, or Todd's sister, so instead we were just like, "Oh! Casey! Good to see you...." yeah. Awkward.

I also had to watch my tongue around Todd's family, which was rather fun while on drugs. "Hey, Todd, I hear Justin Bieber blankety blankety but it belongs to Usher blankety blankety blankety."  And then Todd and I would share a good, hearty chuckle as his little sister, who loves the Biebs, would look on in confusion.

For those who don't get it, the uncensored version of that joke is: I hear Justin Bieber has a ten-inch cock, but it belongs to Usher and is shoved up his ass.

That night, I returned to Sam's bed, and fucked him again. However, for reasons I don't fully understand but believe are due to the painkillers, I could not cum. As I left, I casually asked Sam if he knew Lucius at all. He replied he did, that he actually lived in the same dorm as Sam, and that Sam didn't know him well, but had heard that he was clingy. Oh, gays and their gossip...

Monday, Todd came over for lunch again, and then I followed him to his lab, where I worked on math problems (never a good idea while high) and he worked on correctly the Langevin function to better described magnetic fields and account for interaction fields.  He's a math and physics nerd.

Tuesday, Todd and I grabbed lunch at a small crepe place near my house (and, by extension, near the university).  Now, if you ever get your tonsils removed, the doctors will tell you that days 5-8 are the worst. The doctors aren't lying.  I woke up Monday in so much pain, I would punch toddlers for my medication.  I woke up Tuesday in even worse pain.  I'm awake right now, in the middle of the night between Tuesday and Wednesday, because holy god, I can barely swallow saliva, I'm in pain. Thankfully, the Roxicet keeps it under some control, and I should be healthy again soon.

In other news, I've almost finished Part 9 of Liam's Mistake, and Part 10 is progressing nicely. I should post Part 9  in the next few days.

On Thursday, I have my follow up with the doctor, and I should return to upstate New York sometime this weekend. Which is good, because I have an internship starting July 5, and a math class that started Monday.

Whores and Sluts

Woot! Provocative title!  Here's the thing:  we often refer to people as "sluts" and "whores" 1) as if it's a bad thing, and 2) without a really clear definition of what we mean. I jokingly have referred to myself as one before, and more than once have called the boys I've slept with such titles.

It never really crossed my mind as something to worry about until a couple weeks ago.  I had gone to Chicago for the early part of spring break to visit my sister, and while I was there, I remembered that Lucius was originally from Chicago and that he was likely there for spring break as well.

On March 4th, as I was headed to the airport to catch my flight, I sent him a text confirming that he was in the Chicago area.

He replied in the affirmative, but noted that he didn't recognize my phone number.
I messaged him back my "Jack - Jan 10" hoping to jog his memory.
There was a pause.

Hooking Up Frustrations

The single most frustrating thing about random hooking up is that it relies on The Shotgun Theory to work.  Shotgunning is the art of hitting on as many people as possible until one of them hooks up with you.  The downside to this is the absurd amount of rejection you will encounter, or, since this blog is about me, that I encounter on a regular basis.

Take, for example, this past winter break. Darryl is a close friend of one my good friends.  He is also fabulously gay and I find him to be fantastically hot.

This is not Darryl, but he's similar enough for our purposes:

For more of this story and for more images of hot naked boys, please continue after the jump.