Good Or Bad, I Was One Of The Ones

Dare I say this and go forward, or if I say anything like this at all, then let me say this with all I have.
Let me be clear and admit to the fear that you will turn away and laugh or reject me.
Or let me say this anyway.
Let me get this off my chest, despite the worry that you will turn away completely and never see me the same again.
And if this were true, then let me preface my entry by saying that I am someone with desires, no different from the fantasies that people rarely speak about.
Yes, I have done things that outrage the spectrum of intimate fantasy.
I have been part of the wild or more erotic things, which in my best assumption, this only makes me human.

Same as it is natural to want to feed, it is just as primal to want to breed.
we are all animals. Some of us, however —some of us are more housebroken and therefore, in the case that all men are animals; i agree to this truth and furtherly I submit that some animals just make better pets.
I am sure that you agree.
But if I dare, then let me dare and be clear that I have not always been a better pet and nor have I always been housebroken.
And while I expose this, I do believe in the normality of certain appetites. I do confess that fantasies are real and hence, they are normal, nonetheless.
 Or dare I say this because truth exposes desire and desires expose dirty secrets, then fine, perhaps my secrets expose more about me than most will disclose in their quiet or voiceless diaries.

I am a fan of the rhythm of two.
Or if I am being honest, I am a fan of the sport.
I am a fan of the hunt. I am a fan of the way people connect or that somehow, something unspoken triggers an animalistic truth, that confirms, yes!
We evolved from wild beasts, —but for the moment, all the pretense and all the games can rest, and all the bullshit lines and the needless rules of engagement can stop, and the beasts in our bodies can come out to play.

I am aware that thoughts are natural.
At least, to some degree; and yes, I do believe in the line between right and wrong.
I also believe that consenting adults are consenting adults.
I believe that sometimes, we need to “do something,” just to feel the earth of what it means to say that yes, “we did something” wild or perhaps, maybe we did something that surpasses the word, “inexcusable.”
Is that so wrong?
Yes, inexcusable. And I say this again, with no excuse.

I do not believe that anything should separate two people in love. I do not believe that any secret thought or dirty challenge is actually dirty, I believe this at my core. I believe that sharing our truths is both intimately and emotionally supportive to a longer and deeper relationship.
But this role belongs to one person and one person only.
No one can honestly pr properly serve two masters.
I believe that when people in love choose to celebrate this; I heartly solve the equation of what it means to meet that “one” person who proves the words “your soulmate is real!”

I believe this with all of my heart.
I am housebroke now—and this is late in the game. I agree.
But I am not done and I am not over with my quest; so, therefore, nothing will ever be over, even at the time when I take my last breath.

I have heard about the stat that says an average man thinks about sex 97% of their day.
In which case, I can say yes.
I do believe that I am above average.
And for this, I am gratfeul.

I admit to the careless nature of my youth and the misunderstanding and poor perceptions of my sexuality.
I admit to my small-mindedness and selfish, self-centeredness.
I admit this openly and regretfully.
Absolutely. 100%

I understand the needs I had and the insecurities that followed.
I understand the tragedies and the heartbreaks and the times when I swore that by any means necessary, I would never be hurt or be the fool again.
I’m sure that I or anyone else in the world can write a book on this.
I am sure that I am not the only one who an show how poorly that plan was made.
And no, that plan never worked for me.

I am not opposed to the truth of our sexual expression. I am well aware that yes, to each is their own right to live, breathe, think or feel as they choose, —I say this providing, of course, that no one is hurt by this; and if at all that anyone is hurt, my hope is that this was consensual because, I mean, hey. . .
Different strokes for different folks, if you know what I mean.
Some people dig pain. Some like to be spanked.
Some like to be choked.
Some like verbal ridicule and some like a separate entry to be entertained more than that appreciate “the front door” approach.

Again, what ever blows your hear back
Whatever floats your boat.
But sometimes, certain things just don’t light the rocket, if you catch my drift —
So, in moments like this, it’s best that we sail on before we sink our own ship.
This is the biggest lesson I have learned.
Dishonesties of any kind degrade and ruin relationships. And this is especially so in the bedroom.
Therefore, I pledge this now and I pledge this here (with you)
I will never live secretly or separately again or lie
because why?
Why bother?

In any case —

I have seen things and done things, and I have been to places, wilder than I ever dreamed of.
I have gone to forbidden clubs. I have been in places, such as a room with soft lighted ceilings that glowed with the color of a dim and electrified blue.
Meanwhile trance music played over the club-like speakers with a soothing beat that came from above. And down below was a scene
Down below was a bed-like platform that was white and glowed as if it were struck by moonlight from the effects overhead.
There was a misty smokiness to the room too. I assume this made the real life appear more like a fantasy.

The bed-like room was huge with an aisle, cut down the center, like a walkway of sorts to meander through the orgy-like scene.
I never thought that I would ever see anything like this.
This was literal and bodies were swaying and formulating their own chemistry together.

I have seen things like this on forbidden films. I have been told about venues and events like this at places called Plato’s Retreat. However, and at best, I never believed or thought that I would have four or more women on my body at one time without paying a lot of money for this experience.
Southern Florida is a real trip . . .
It did well for me to be the youngest man at the club.
All the other men were rich and old and wrinkly with a mediated erection.
And me? I was young and natural.


I was just a young man at the time.
I explored.
I endured and I enjoyed.
I did.

My first big experience was unexpected.
This happened when I went on a weekend cruise to nowhere.
I was not on this cruise for an event like this. I was single, yet this intended to be a family weekend.
So, hence, this was not a weekend intended to explore.

My Mother was far from well, but she was still functional to the point where her physical sickness did not take away all of her joys. And, so, we took a cruise nowhere out of Fort Lauderdale.
We went to dinner on the first night and Mom went back to the room to go to sleep.
It was early . . .
I decided to walk around the ship.
I played a few hands at blackjack and lost too much money too quickly.

Then I walked into some of the other places to see what the ship had to offer.

There were small groups of people in a bar-like scene. I was somewhat sad and alone but again, I always did my best to portray my look.
I always did my special lean. I posture as if nothing bothered me. Not a care in the world.
Or even if something did bother me and even if it were painful, I would not flinch or smirk.
No emotion, Just a nonchalant walk that defied the world, no matter what.

A young man was sitting at a nearby table with his wife and kids.
He offered a friendly hello, excited to be on an outgoing ship and eager to eat and drink and be free from the home-life worries of work and other nonsense.
He regarded my accent and asked if I was from New York.
He was from a town called Hicksville.
“I know it well,” I told him.

I offered a bit about myself and he did the same.
He was just a nice guy . .
At least, that’s what I thought.
I never assumed he was looking out for me.

I did not seem to notice this, but two young women were sitting at a table nearby.
They worked on the ship.
They were both very pretty and dressed in their dance outfits.
Both girls had the sweetest southern accent, and they both had exceptional figures, —of course, one was closer to my taste than the other.
But I was not assuming anything. And why would I?
This trip was not taken with an intention.
My new friend rom Hicksville asked the two girls, “Did you two meet my friend Benny?”

Somehow, the conversation between the showgirls and I took off.
And I don’t know how. And I didn’t know why.
My new friend from Hicksville left with his wife and family. And then he gave me a knowing wink and a nod.

It was down to three—the two girls who danced on the ship and me.
We walked up to the roof deck to see the full moon.
I knew I wanted a shot with one of them.
But which one?
I’d have been happy with either.
Hell, I’d have been fie to get a kiss and call this a score.
I assumed whichever one let me advance would be the one I went with.|
But which one was going to give me the greenlight?

The roof deck was nice. No one else was around.
I stood between them both.
My right arm was around the waist of the girl on my right.
She was a knockout!
My left arm was around the waist of the one to my left.
She was equally a knockout but thinner and less pronounced in her chest, hips and thighs—ad to be clear; I a a meat eater. I need more cushion to the body. But again, she was a knockout just the same.

I had an internal conversation with myself.
“How am I going to pull this off?”
“How far is any of this going to go?”

I said to myself:
“Self, I don’t know which one to go for, but I have to find out!”

I thought about a seen from a Matt Dillon movie. I thought about a piece of advice an older brother gave his younger brother, and I paraphrase, “How do you know how far a girl will let you go,” to which the older brother advised the younger, “just keep going. She’ll tell you when to stop.”

I figured this was a great idea.

I lowered my arms around both girls at the same time.
I assumed whichever one stops me would determine the girl that would be out of the equation.
And I was fine with that.

I bean to slowly drop my arms as we stood there as three.
We were all looking upwards at the largest moon I have ever seen.
Neither of them stopped me.
“What do I do?”
the inner voice replied, “Just keep going, one of them will ell you where to stop.”

I lowered my arms more and allowed my hands to mold around the far cheek of their asses.
I did this simultaneously, and again, whichever one stopped me would be the one who was out of the equation.
Neither of them stopped me.

“Maybe they don’t know what I’m doing,” I thought to myself.
Maybe I need to pull both of them in closer.
Maybe I should grab harder. And I did.
On both.
Neither of them stopped me.
I said to myself, “Self, this is really happening!”

“Don’t blow it!”

The girls explained that they cannot be seen like this with one of the guests.
I thought to myself, “holy shit, this is like something out of a movie!”
We went inside.
We had to go meet someone because they had to give a co-worker something.
They asked me to stand ack by the door to not seem so obvious.

And of course, I thought to myself, “okay, I guess it’s not going to happen.
But they came back.
“Holy shit! They came back”

We wet down to their so-called living quarters. And I say the words “living-quarters” loosely.
I say this loosely because for the record, I have been in jail cells at the county holding facility that were bigger than the rooms these girls lived in.
“They’re roommates!”
Something had to give.
No way this was about to happen.
until it did.

They slept in bunk beds that were hardly wide enough for one body, let alone two or three.
But we managed.
I remember thinking to myself, “You better hold on, kid!”
“Don’t lose it.”
I did every position I could think of.
I tried to enforce every fantasy I ever had—and they were obliging.
I did well for a while. But then the girl with a more desired figured spoke dirty to me.
And that was it.
She gave me a directive with her southern accent. She gave her directions softly and sweetly.
She spoke in such a way that her southern bedroom voice caused an eruption to happen earlier than I had wished for.
I was not in their room for much longer.
The girl who I desired more had a boyfriend who worked on the ship, —to which I said “oops,” but that was something else tat was frowned upon by their management as well.
I guess guys aren’t the only ones who like to break the rules.

The next morning came quicker than I expected.
I was at the breakfast buffet and saw the man rom Hicksville with his family.
He asked about my night.
I said it went well.
“I bet it did.”
He told me they were staring at me the entire time.
He said that’s why he made the jump to introduce me.
He asked, “So, which one did you get?”
“A gentleman never tells,” I said.
The man laughed and said, “I’ll remember that when I see one.”
The man from Hicksville said, “At least you gave it a shot,” assuming that I struck out.
“That I did,” I said.
Then, I thanked him for his help.

The more pronounced of the two roommates avoided me but the other came around. She met me the second night for an adventure which was nice.
She gave me a tape with soothing music because we both shared a relationship with insomnia.
She told me, “Here’s something for you to remember me.”
I told her, “thanks.”
Then I thought to myself, “Remember her?”
“Does she not think I’d remember her?”
I just had the fantasy of my life handed to me on a silver platter and she thought I needed something to remember her?

She smiled, “Maybe I’ll see you I New ork City one day.”
“Sure,” I said.
We both knew we would never talk or see each other again.
But this is funny to me now.

I say this is funny because all the fantasies have been run and done and I have done everything I ever dreamed of.
And still I was left empty.
My fantasies are different now.

I still consider myself above average when compared to the stat that says an average man thinks about sex 97% of his day.
However, I don’t need the big house or the finest car.
I don’t need attention from anyone
I don’t need the porn-like experiences.
And I don’t need the ego boost or feel the need to cultivate sideline distractions to solve my insecurity.

I do not and will not cultivate side relationships, in fear that I will be left alone, and thus, I can have someone tend to my wounds, if needed. Taking prisoners or emotional hostages is both cruel and evil. Looking for something “outside” for what you should be finding inside is largely painful and often heartbreaking in the end.
it took a lot of falls for me to learn this.

My biggest quest in life was to find out what it means to be a man.
And Lord knows, I was misguided and mistaken when it came to this quest.

It is far more manly that I do what I do now and share my most intimate truths with the one woman who owns my heart—and while the seat beside me is vacant at the moment, I refuse to lose sight of my truth.
I know . . .
I get it . . .
I can go and run and do whatever it takes to rid myself of my fears and feelings.
But in the end, truth is still true.
And nothing can change the fact that I love her more now than ever before.

I don’t want anyone else . . .
But a rooftop escapade with her beneath a full moon sounds like a good idea to me.

You know?