This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. The memoir began with the series C'est La Vie!, which covers the years 1970-1997. This series covers the year the narrator turns 40, 1998, and launches an ambitious project to have sex with 1000 men that year. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
In the first chapter, I related how I decided on the rules for my project, worked out to develop a killer body and rented and decorated a special fuck-pad in Philly's Gayborhood for my adventures.
1000 Men: 1998, NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY
Christmas with my family came and went uneventfully. It was enjoyable, but I was distracted, thinking about how my year of 1000 men would shape up. The week after Christmas slipped by quickly, and I moved my last stuff to my fuck-pad, and got my loft ready for my renter. Suddenly it was New Year's Eve, and I was off to the party at my old friend's place, a nice condo not far from my new apartment.
I got there around nine and there were about 30 other guests, mostly guys. The food was great, and of course there was plenty to drink. We were talking, laughing, reminiscing about the year past and talking about the year to come. I let some of my friends know my project for the coming year, and they were all eager to have me keep them posted on my progress. I said that I would set up an email list and let them know how I was doing. More than a few offered to help out, and I told them, no problem, they would have to wait until after midnight, which brought a few laughs.
The music took over and there was a crush of bodies dancing in the living room. Toward midnight, I started dancing with a young man who had just come to the party. He was slim, had dark features, and moved in a beautiful, sexy, graceful way. As we danced, we moved our hands over each other's bodies and I could feel his hard cock between his legs, and he smiled to me as I gave him a squeeze. We stood together as the guests counted down to midnight, and he turned and kissed me passionately.
"Let's go to the bedroom," he said, taking my hand. I smiled and followed. We went in and set the latch on the door, and then he was on his knees, pulling my cock out and wrapping his mouth around it. As he sucked, he unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it off, revealing a smooth, slim, lithe body.
He stood up and quickly shed his pants, and turned around, bending over the edge of the bed, begging me to fuck him. There were condoms on the bedside table and some lube, and pretty soon, I was suited up, and with my cock deep inside of him, doing my first man of the 1000. He was hot, and a lively bottom, pushing back on me, wiggling, and very vocal. But somehow, I didn't want to cum with him, only give him his pleasure, and try to hook up with someone else later for some nice slow, passionate love making to ring in the New Year.
A couple of minutes later, he started gasping desperately and I reached around to grab is cock and bring him to climax on my hand, not letting him cum on the nice bedspread. When he was done, I put my hand to his lips and he cleaned it off with his tongue, savoring the taste of his own cum. Then he turned and kissed me passionately, and we got dressed and headed back out to the party.
Seeing us emerge from the bedroom, a friend of mine winked and quipped "Only 999 left to go, huh?" I just winked and smiled.
I got a glass of wine and sat down on the sofa next to a friendly-looking guy who looked to be in his late 40s. He had a goatee, graying temples, and an appealing smile. He was about my height, but probably had about thirty more pounds on him. We started talking. His name was Adam, and he it turned out he was a designer for the movies. He spent a lot of time in LA and on location all over the world. He was home for a few weeks between productions. We talked a lot about art--he had been a painter before getting into his current profession--so we had a lot in common, and knew a few of the same people. I didn't tell him about my project for the New Year, but I did tell him about my upcoming museum shows.
As we talked, he would periodically reach over and touch my hand or my leg. He had a nice soft touch, and I liked the informal intimacy. I asked about his plans for the coming year, and described his next two projects, one of which would take him to Viet Nam, and the following one mostly in California.
"But," he said taking my hand between his, "what I would like to do is start the year spending the night with you."
I was a bit surprised by his candid forwardness, but I thought: I've had some terrific lovers who are bigger guys, so why not?
So I said "Adam, that would be really nice. My place or yours?"
"I have a little house about four blocks from here", he said, "and some really nice one-hitter if you like to indulge."
"Let's go," I said.
We said our thank-yous to our host, who stared, smiling, at Adam's prominent erection that tented out the front of his chinos. Adam's coat hid any possible embarrassment he might experience on the street, and we stepped out into the chilly Philly night, and walked briskly the few blocks to his place.