Tourist of Novelties By Robert S. Costic
Robert Costic has written a collection of fairy tales, "Flamethrower Fairy Tales," a novella, "Kepler's Revenge," and a collection of aphorisms, "Lightning Words," and has translated fairy tales by Theodor Storm and Friedrich Hebbel from German. All are available as ebooks everywhere.
I don't like to sit still for too long. I look around and I see how much there is in the world, and I want all of it, and if I dwell in one place I feel like I'm wasting time I could be using to experience something new.
The other day a guy fucked me at the Hay-Adams Hotel during my lunch break. I could see the White House and the Washington Monument from the window as he took me from behind doggy-style. He must've been visiting on business. He remarked that he came from Houston, Texas. He had a beautiful, totally hairless body. Even his head was bald. All muscle, no fat. He had wanted to fuck at my office, which was a couple blocks away, but I can't allow strangers into my office. Security is tight. And at any rate, I had fucked a co-worker there once before, and I was over it.
Work is usually slow. I often surf the Internet. Given my sexual appetite you might be surprised to know that I don't look at porn there. I have the sense to know that my activity online is monitored. But I was okay fucking guy on my desk once. No one could watch us do that. He was a handsome guy who had been making eyes with me for some weeks. Finally an opportunity arose. I walked right up to him and asked if he wanted it. He did. We went to my office and fucked on the desk. It was fun. I had a good time. But after we did that I was done. He wanted to do it again. I was reluctant, since we had fucked before, but we did it one other time in one of the bathroom stalls. There the floors are black marble and so smooth you could see our reflection as I fucked him in the ass.
Some people say it's difficult finding guys, but I think they find it difficult because they aren't really looking. I just look, and I find guys. The trick is not just to find guys who are hot, but to find guys who find you hot. You can tell because they look at you the same way you look at them. Granted, many guys will not look at me like I look at them even if they do find me hot, because some of them are afraid to show it. I don't know why.
One time I was waiting for a Metro at the Anacostia station, and there was a hot guy checking me. Really well put together. Nice haircut. Cute mustache. Seemed like an outdoors type. The train came. We got on. We kept checking each other out. Finally I scribbled my telephone number on a piece of paper and handed it to him before I got off to my destination. He texted me later. A few days later we got together for drinks and then went to a bath house, where I fucked him. As soon as he came he swung around and peed all over my face. I hadn't asked for that and wasn't sure how I felt about this unsolicited golden shower. I did appreciate the novelty, however.
That guy at work wanted to go on a date, by the way. I went on one. We went to a German restaurant I had never been to before, in Capitol Hill. I drank a Warsteiner dunkel beer. It was good, but it reminded me a lot of other dunkel beers I've had before. It can be frustrating sometimes. You could go about, trying new things all the time, but sometimes you find that although the thing you're trying is new it's a lot like other things that you've already done.
Sex can be like that, too, and I blame that on having only so many body parts to work with. Only so many holes. Only one dick. You can try shaking it up with toys, but at the end of the day it's still you and your same old body. It would be neat if we could try out different bodies from time to time. My only consolation is that my body changes over time, but that is only so much of a consolation, because I know that eventually it'll change in ways I'd rather not have it change.
I remember at the date he told me, "your thoughts are as scattered as your men." I hadn't realized we had talked enough for him to say something like that. I had a delicious platter of various sausages, including two types of blutwurst and a weisswurst, even though I heard that traditionally Germans don't eat weisswurst in the evening because it goes bad so quickly (it's made early in the morning and eaten for breakfast or lunch). I also had to suck the meat out of its skin, which is not something I'm used to doing with sausages. Usually you just eat the thing whole. Weisswurst is work, albeit delicious work.
One time I had sex with a German visiting on business. I met him at the sauna of the Willard Hotel and we gave each other hand jobs. I had fooled around with guys at saunas before but hadn't done anything at the Willard before. Its sauna is unsurprisingly luxurious, tiled with mosaics like we were aristocratic Roman senators at a sumptuous bath. The German was stereotypically efficient, very effectively jacking me so that I came within maybe a couple of minutes. Very little chit-chat or other contact.
Some guys masturbate a lot. I once met a guy who said he masturbated every day. It's hard for me to imagine. At that point it becomes a ritual. Wouldn't he rather do something else eventually? There are so many guys one can meet on gay sex apps, or out about town, who could jazz things up. I guess that's what I did for him. We met on Grindr. He lived three houses away from mine. One thing I can tell you, he really knew how to blow me. Also a good kisser. But didn't like venturing outside of that. I think he may have been a little afraid to catch a VD. He had a really sweet dog who watched us.
One time I had sex at my house with a tiny guy from Costa Rica who once spent much of his time organizing anti-Hugo Chavez politicos in Venezuela, which is ironic considering that one of my friends has a father who worked for Chavez. Very submissive. Let me do whatever I wanted to him. Hot sex. Tight little body but a hole that gave easily. Rimming him was a joy. Could stick my tongue right in. But then I must've done something to him that he didn't like. He suddenly turned cold, and when we finished he left abruptly. That was different.
Around that time I had been learning German, and I thought to myself that it would be good to learn Spanish, not so much to help finding guys but for more basic things. After all, I don't go around having long chats with the guys I meet. I could use Spanish at work, though, or pick up workers by the Home Depot for projects around my house. Or I could have just learned to do the projects by myself, although I don't have much inclination to stay at home banging away at things. I bought Spanish-learning software and dabbled with it for a couple weeks.
Once during a threesome with a Norwegian couple I thought to myself that I should learn Norwegian. They would talk to each other, presumably about me and what they wanted to do with me, and I felt momentarily left out of these plans. But then it occurred to me that I couldn't possibly learn all the languages I'd need to learn to always be in the know. What if I found myself in a situation with a Japanese couple? And/or Russians? I just don't have the time. And at any rate, it turned out that I didn't really need to know. I had fun all the same. And sometimes it's just better if you don't talk too much.
Incidentally, that same night I hooked up with two other guys in another threesome at the same hotel. In that case one guy was Czech and the other was a Quebecois. We all had met Jack'd. That was the first time that I was sandwiched between two guys. The Quebecois fucked me while I fucked the Czech. Hot guys. I think there must have been some sort of conference in town and that's why there were so many guys hanging around that hotel. The Czech in particular had big, beautiful nipples. It was tricky, though. I didn't have much room to do my own thrusting since the Quebecois had his way with me; his pounding, aggressive, didn't allow me to develop my own rhythm pounding the Czech. It basically just had me pressing as deep as I could go into him, and with the Quebecois' dick stimulating me as much as I did, my own just got harder and harder.
By the time I got home and went to bed I stopped for a moment and thought about the week, and it occurred to me that I had forgotten what I had done earlier that morning, let alone what I had done that previous Monday. I keep so busy all the time. Work is a blur. There are so many men. And I go and visit so many places, eat so many different things, learn so many new things. If I ever stop moving too long I wonder for a moment who I am.