Night School for Daydreamers (or, “That’s what your ass is, boy – the shape of my dick!”)

Skill Seekers and Fantasy Finders (an Uncompleted Second Segment) (Part one starts here.) Men often ask how an escort service differs from sex coaching, and I inevitably waver in the answering (especially in last week’s note-to-self-strewn segment). The reality is that escorts tend to cater to the performance of fantasies and sex coaches focus more read more..

 

Skill Seekers and Fantasy Finders (an Uncompleted Second Segment)

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(Part one starts here.)

Men often ask how an escort service differs from sex coaching, and I inevitably waver in the answering (especially in last week’s note-to-self-strewn segment). The reality is that escorts tend to cater to the performance of fantasies and sex coaches focus more on developing confidence and competence. However, skills are employed to achieve a yearned-for something, and fascinations and role-plays are frequently not freely realized unless one learns how to use the tools to successfully do so.

I simply play my little part in collapsing the seeming separation of the two to provide the likelihood of exceptional sexual forays for you, Men Alive – in the present and the soon-to-be.

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Gentlemen enroll themselves again and again to enhance specific skills and/or to enact suppressed or failsafe fantasies. Be they unabashed in the asking or embarrassed in the pursuit, these guys are unfailingly passionate as they may be overcoming anal retentiveness to conquer anal receptiveness, or figuring out how to plunge in while keeping it up – or keeping that hungry thing from coming too quickly! As well, rarely followed through with completely, and routinely appearing in startled fits, you arrive and a host of desires arise. From Dad visiting his son in his dorm room to Mr. Martin disciplining his insubordinate student in the teacher’s lounge or that dependable connect that keeps dreams alive, “The Boyfriend Experience,” I have come to the conclusion that a session should take its own course as clients don’t demand a forced (re)enactment as much as offer an appeal to really delve into an unfixed instant. As a skill requires practice and responsiveness, a fantasy gets fuddled in over-compensating for time felt to have been lost. Both are found fulfilling by our belying expectations in an intention of feeling each muscle as it maneuvers to make skin contact. Sometimes semen squirts on bellies and behinds but – every time – you are handed over to what is required of the moment over what you request from me.

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You may not seek a lay at all, and solely wish to surpass inhibitions of the lasting inclination to move from motive to mastery of the world’s oldest pastime as one in its oldest profession masturbates (with) you, instructing you in delight-inducing strokes in stretched de…lay.

In the second in hand, man in man, we actualize our respective visions with a leg up in the world of homoerotic wonderment and the other wrapped around so your heel can dig into my gluteal dimple as I give that booty a go. In intuitive kisses and skilled licks, simple grazes and intricate gropes, a man may tackle tricks in order to consume my tool in spontaneous ways in an exploration of options and an expansion of possibilities. In role-playing we are granted a fresh perspective, and in recognizing ourselves as more novice than know-it-all we marry tried-and-true techniques with instinct as we instill method while activating an oft-heretofore hidden second nature. Even if it’s your first time, you’ll effortlessly team finesse with intuition as you clear the path for countless new experiences that welcome us to who we are as men who love men.

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And I can’t deliver to you – or deliver you to – what you don’t already wield. Rather, I deftly allow you to yield to the readiness for deliverance within yourself.

And whether he comes to me after the sun has set on a day in the rat race to find himself face to face with what he’s only dreamed of, or you come at the crack of dawn to confront the nightmare of your impotence in light of long-deferred preference and prowess, the skill seeker crafts a fantasy with me and the fantasy finder incorporates skills on me as we co-create experienced realness.

And maybe you’ve schooled me in domination, Sir, or I’ve scolded you into fully felt submission as I belt out “That’s what your ass is, boy – the shape of my dick!” Either way, and every way between, beyond, and before, you own the sensation of liberation – a freedom from fear in a ceding to the uncertain that warrants fortuitous spanks and gratuitous wanks!

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In thrusted lust you shove love down a throat that models optimism and prospect. And far from lustfaking, we cave into lovemaking – not reaching for every feature of each other’s hunger – yet teaching one another how to hope as, balls to your taint as you tremblingly take me to the base, I whisper in your ear, “Now you know you can do it… like that.”

And man after man comes time and again – and it could be that he’s broken down after a break up or in the heart of a personal breakthrough – and you exclaim an exultant ”OH MY GOD!” to convey to me how I am best when not primed and professional and, instead, am sublimely aspirational in this shared impassionedness! Both of us proud to be ballsy enough to confront any shame at freely being our queer, sensual selves, we are whole in our lonesomeness – and more than boners and buttholes are cleansed and reclaimed as our tongues taste and titillate the isolated bits we were once taught were contaminated.

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And in the anonymity of Manhattan, you locate the personal space of my openings in a start at redemption – and I consecrate yours with my probing parts. We sanctify your coming into your own as a man-loving man and salivate on one another’s knobs as you fix to tie the knot honed and no longer so hesitant to let loose on your future husband. And you validate my way of life while giving me hands, heart, etc.-on boyfriend experience for the penetrating promise of the forthcoming.

And – ”AHA!” – you own up to the reality that you are as alone when you leave as when you came, but you are now known by one man who passionately pleasured you and continues to treasure you. So perhaps we’re not so alone after all as re-forming our fantasies and sorting through skills leads us from the self-abasement of contemporary social norms to the self-betterment of two men to many men in loving service to one another.

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HOMEWORK

My first erotic fantasy found me as an extraordinarily obedient eight year old lying on my mattress in the attic bedroom I split with my stepbrother, mother, and stepfather picturing myself as having committed some naughty act, and the punishment was my stepdad actually spanking me (which I don’t recall him ever having had a good enough reason to have done so, though, on the other hand, my role-model of a stepbro…). I’d look up at the cheap wood paneling in the moonlit dark and imagine myself clinging to him while bent across his knees, the palm of his hand stinging my bare bottom. You see, I didn’t trust him – didn’t even like him much – and I longed to surrender to paternal tenderness.

Your “homework” is to get in touch with your own lingering longings and find someone you trust and help yourself to a healthy spanking. If no one is at hand, submit to yourself. In a cautious world, give yourself the gift of capitulation. I do this all the time amid tasks and companions accompanied by a bedroom filled with full-length-and-width mirrors and these escaped cries of ecstasy and self-satisfaction.

And if Daddy wants to give me a good lickin’ – or if my boy’s bum needs a smack and a stickin’ – I’m here. ☺

(Click here to feed on part three.)

Add a Response 18 thoughts on “Night School for Daydreamers (or, “That’s what your ass is, boy – the shape of my dick!”)

  1. Adam
    Another beautifully written piece…erotic, tender and insightful all at once…touching so many emotions. But the ultimate realization that you will remain a connection long after the last drop of semen is spilled.

    • Yes, Bill. We bring all that we are to it… share with one another within it… and then take what was made away… Adam

  2. Adam,

    So wonderfulI as always and I love that you say “You are now known by one man” So happy to be known by you and know that you are known by me, bless you!

    Dennis

  3. Hi Adam,

    Another great blog! Really such an awesome writer! My Friday morning have become full of anticipation as to what you will write this week. The glimpse into your personality so so vivid and strong in your writing. Your creativity with your mind and your pen is in no doubt connected to your generosity of spirit and creative movements and touches of your body and hands. I only hope to enjoy this some day soon. Keep writing…… Anticipating completely…..

  4. Adam, I feel like you “top” yourself every week. Ha! Thanks for sharing that H.O.T piece of literature! Loved reading it.

    • It’s not the same as topping you, dear man! *smacks the left side* I love your love… *spanks that right cheek* Adam

  5. Homework? Well, I’ll try my best, Sir.

    Your fantasy about your stepfather makes me think of Freud’s reframe of the Oedipus tale; though, frankly, anyone with any common sense would note that it isn’t about lust and the family romance as much as it is about parental neglect! Or maybe it’s just both, and one begets the other. I think in your case you were making a really sexy preemptive strike, and turning fear into pleasure. Isn’t there some Buddhist aphorism about “smiling when you see fear coming?” Well, you did, and then some. And I think that’s something you are asking me to do, too.

    I just read that Canada’s Stratford Theater Festival has offended many of its audience members with its “full frontal nudity” production of Oedipus Rex. How wonderfully apropos for the King who killed his father, then fucked his mother, and whose blind rage still lives on in all of us.

    I feel that whatever effect the director is going for, he might reconsider, and insist that it be the audience, instead, who perform their role full frontal, and let poor Oedipus cover his one last shred of humanity. His shame.

    Shame. We all have it. Gay, straight, and every which way. At best we can transform it into something useful, like guilt. But it seems to me it’s at the core of our very selves. Maybe even our souls And that, Adam, is where you come in. (I mean ‘you,’ but I guess I could mean the guy in the Garden, too, the first shamester. Talk about getting spanked. Or do I mean “pranked?” ).

    You ask us to look at it—our shame. In our mirror. Your mirror. Our eyes wide open (unlike Oedipus who gouged his out). Or in your eyes. Eyes that are always, fearlessly, open, and which are, by the way, sometimes blue and sometimes green (but you knew that, right?).

    Transforming the hesitancy, the fakery, into the real, into the moment:

    “In thrusted lust you shove love down a throat that models optimism and prospect. And far from lustfaking, we cave into lovemaking – not reaching for every feature of each other’s hunger – yet teaching one another how to hope as, balls to your taint as you tremblingly take me to the base, I whisper in your ear, ‘Now you know you can do it… like that.'”

    You mean do it like that? Like that?

    I suppose getting a good spanking might be called for, and thanks to you, it would be having one’s cake, and eating you, too.

    “. . .you are as alone when you leave as when you came, but you are now known by one man who passionately pleasured you and continues to treasure you.”

    I see myself leaving your high-rise, hitting Forty-Second street, and then walking home, alone, through the crowd, and I say to myself, just loud enough for anyone walking next to me to hear, “I’m shameless.”

    • Yes, homework. Very serious homework, boy! Rage, shame, and a trembling sort of fearless shamelessness (and, yes, I did know that about my eyes). Like that, Chris. Just… like… that. Turn it on its head, slap you on your ass, and come right back to who we are again and again. Adam

  6. Oh, Adam. What a beautiful piece of erotic literature. Having returned not that long ago from a magnificent night between wine sheets and missing stars, I feel like rushing out to repeat old tricks and to experiment with new ones in an uninhibited man to man experience. To experiment, to experiment; what a wonderful thing to avoid routine and boredom and after all, the essence of progress. Life is magnificent in all its aspects but traveling with you makes it more exciting…………. In a rocket, in a plane…….? No, on top a turtle to enjoy it better.

  7. Well! That was hot. If I hadn’t already been eagerly anticipating our next meeting, I certainly would be now. I can’t wait to explore with you again. In anticipation of a fulfilling (and filling full) time, in just one month…

    • But before I fill you Mike, I’ll want you to say something salacious about your asshole’s response to my throbbing cock before lust melds into love… Adam

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