Brooklyn Jack: Off The Market?

It could be. After several years of bachelorhood, I've met a guy who is gung-ho determined to sweep me off my feet. Since we are both marriage-minded, I am just as determined to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground until I know for sure, but I'm impressed so far. Jesse is eight years older than me, boyishly handsome, a veteran of a Long Term Relationship, looks great in a suit, and adores dogs. He's also a grown-up fratboy, about which more later, because it relates to how we met.

What clinched the deal, for me, is that he's into frot. The first time we spent the night together, at his place, he emptied half a bottle of root-beer flavored lube over our rigid dicks before pulling me down to lock lips while we played Slip-n-Slide Sausages. Damn, it pisses me off that I had to discover the telepathic connectivity of C2C after years of trial and error, because gay porn doesn't model this miraculous form of sex.

Jesse and I had nearly simultaneous orgasms that night, and again the next morning after a breakfast of bacon and eggs [He's Atkinsing -- I told him, "My mom won't care that you put your dick in my mouth, but if she ever finds out you cook with bacon grease, she's gonna think you're the Devil." --Jack]. How can you not start spurting when you feel that fresh, warm, slippery jizz from another man's balls splash all over your genitals and thighs and belly, soaking into your pubes and churning to foamy lather as your erect penis slides through the puddle of his sperm? The semen that he joyously shot for you, his buddy, his fellow man, his lover.

Whew. In any case, we're going steady now and I've got the fraternity sweatshirt to prove it. I'm still available for parties and bar mitzvahs, however, and we've already talked about co-hosting a Circle Jerk together.