If all life’s experiences, I seem to have truly interesting ones, in regard to my sex life anyways. For those of you who are uncomfortable with gay sex, two guys being intimate, or the misadventures involving two men who will end up in bed with each other, please, save us all the trouble and turn the page. For the rest of you, enjoy.
A year or so back I went to a party one of my fellow employees had thrown. At the time I was only 18, and my colleagues were between 23 and 30 years old. Imagine spring break for people out of college who have kids… yeah. Fortunately, not only was another gay guy there, but he was closer to my age. His name was Max; a really cute guy with amazing green eyes, tan skin and short brown hair. As the night went on I could see him looking over at me every now and then. Neither one of us, however, made a move. Toward the end of the party, when everyone had either gone home or claimed a room for his or her own fun exploits, I was left sitting on the couch with Max.
Before long, he leaned in to kiss me while I leaned toward him into an embrace. Every second we kissed drew us closer and closer together. I could feel him tense up and then relax every time I would lightly bite his lower lip. It didn’t take too long for most of our clothes to be stripped, or maybe torn, off our bodies. I ran my fingers down his chest, the muscular chest followed by a toned stomach. I closed my eyes as he nibbled on my ear, making me melt. Taking away my sense of sight allowed me to focus more intently on my sense of touch, reveling in every tingle and lingering touch that I was experiencing. I could feel goose bumps as our clothes were strung across the floor and we grinded into each other, our hands exploring each other’s bodies, our kisses becoming more intense as the seconds continued to tick away to what seemed like hours. Our bodies became intertwined. Nothing else mattered, only the raw power of the human body and the force of two bodies lost in a tangle of power and carnal pleasure. When I could feel that tingling sensation, reaching what the French call “la petite mort”—this is where my life comes back to reality.
It just so happened that—and I note that this has only happened once in my life—my climax hit an unexpected target: my eye. For those of you who have never experienced this, it burns! It’s an intense sensation that’s similar to getting sunscreen all up in your eye (random fact: It hurts worse if you have contacts, since the protein dries out the contact almost instantly). Needless to say that it surprised me, and hurt, so I kind of screamed a bit.
I’m sure Max thought I screamed because he was some sort of sex god, but I screamed loud enough for the guy sleeping upstairs to rush out of his room and come running down the stairs to see what was wrong. The only thing that Max and I had time to do was put on boxers. So as the now-awake man ran in and asked what was wrong, I stood there in boxers and held my hand over my right eye because, let’s be honest, it’s awkward trying to explain why there is man-juice all in your eye and dripping down. The guy stood there for a second, half understanding that he had in fact walked in on an intimate experience. So after an awkward moment or two, the guy went back to sleep, and Max just started laughing.
Max and I ended up going to the roof of the house and we sat there as we watched the sunrise. That is, after I went to the bathroom to wash my face. It was my first time watching the sunrise—I seemed to have a couple firsts that night. I was, however, unaware of the after effects of having sperm in your eye until the next morning. Not only did I go home to my parents, grandparents and the rest of my family to spend quality time at my house, but also my eye was completely red and swollen. To make it worse, I had hickeys all over my neck, had barely slept, and was a little hung over. Now, personally, I’m what you would consider versatile (for those of you who are unaware of what that is, basically I can be the pitcher or the catcher depending on the guy), and in this case, this guy was a pitcher who was very well endowed. So I was not able to sit comfortably at all that day. Upon my arrival, I was asked a series of questions: “What’s wrong with your eye?” “Is that a rash on your neck?” or “Rough night?” to which I would gracefully reply, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Be forewarned:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Watch where you aim,
Cause it may just be you.
Trust me.
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Eric Shun is going to wear safety goggles next time.