Sexual fantasies, unrealized, unfulfilled
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I'm sure you have some sort of unfulfilled sexual fantasy don't you? Bet they fall into two main categories:
Sleep with Orlando-Bloom-Brad-Pitt-Tom-Welling TV Movie Hunk Hottie.
Sleep with man/boy you go to school with, saw at the club.
When I was eighteen I decided that one day I'd have sex with a hustler, callboy, rentboy, some sort of sex professional. It seemed an interesting project to discover what sex would be like as a commercial transaction. Says something about me that even as a freshly out young gay man I was conceiving of sexuality in terms of projects.
My cockeyed notion went to the back of my brain. No AIDS, I was young, tall and acceptably proportioned. Young
love lust was easily satisfied. Besides, hating the wearisome, messy business of working I was mostly on the streets living by my wits. Who had the money with which to pay? Though once when I was in control of a pound of pot a young hustler wanted I thought about using it bend him. He spent a long time telling me that he wasn't gay even though he'd gone down on a friend when he was drunk. Wholly anaphrodisiac (looking back it seems like it should've been an encouragement).
For the first eight or so years of being out I knew more male prostitutes than anyone but an addictive john normally meets. They were my neighbors, later my employees.
Over the next few years I'd whore myself three times. If anything that increased my respect of the guys who can do it hundreds of times. (This isn't to slight happy girl hookers: a male sex worker in most cases has to maintain an erection.)
In Atlanta, San Francisco and Los Angeles I vended young men to guys who were willing to pay. If you aren't an artist anything you do often becomes unexceptional. "Young, white, hairy and uncut" became what "I'll have two pounds of the provolone" is to he cheese merchant.
Having been on the callboy's and madam's side of the counter left male prostitution shorn of its glamour. The city of night was just another daytime job.
Still, foolish me, I at times regret that I never realized my project of being a john. Maybe I would've if the boys I saw selling themselves on the street wore a little eyeliner. Mostly they looked scruffy and rough.
You might ask why don't I do it now. Well, a guy named Charles probably wouldn't be amused. Not a particle.
In Durham, NC I wouldn't know where to look. If there's a place sex workers of either gender congregate I've never seen it. Of course if I were looking I'd go to the web. Back when I was on AOL I did have a guy who was always selling himself (or trying) tell me I could do him for free if I'd come over and slap him in the face right then. But it was about one a.m. and I was more interested in bedtime than asking a young stranger if he knew that he was my bitch.
And I'm older. What seemed amusing at eighteen looks a bit different years later. I'd hate to find myself on the bottom of sexual power (at least in this instance).
I'm sure you have some sort of unfulfilled sexual fantasies (or projects) maybe a couple of you will be brave enough to share them with me.